A GLOVED & GIRDLED MEMOIR

 Confessions of a Blue Tomato

Writing this memoir

Confessions of a Blue Tomato

has been such an ordeal,

 I've not even wanted to post to this blog.
At least I can give you a preview.

Here's a draft of the book cover.

I've used my maiden name as author.

This took some tweaking to get this photo here.
I wanted it small because that's how it will show up online.
 The title isn't bold enough. 

Here's the book description:

Confessions of a Blue Tomato is a compelling portrait of growing up as a gloved and girdled girl of the ’50s with unfulfilled hopes and dreams. This hauntingly unforgettable mother-daughter story is told with psychological insight, through the narrator’s poignant and sensitive Southern voice.

First Grade - Spring 1942

(me in saddle shoes)

It's a memoir about an only child growing up in Atlanta during a time of streetcars and blackouts, remembering the dusty playground of Joel Chandler Harris grammar school where soldiers from Fort McPherson gave bouncy jeep rides to school children during World War II. It’s a story about listening to the radio and collecting movie star photos, and riding a bicycle to the Saturday movie serials. It’s about opening a door and smelling popcorn, and walking on sticky floors and hearing childish screams, as the Mummy raised up out of his tomb in the darkened Cascade Theater.

I decided to make the first chapter . . .

 V is for Victory

 . . . because, it's the story about us earning

our Victory Badges during World War II.

Everything was rationed

and we were encouraged to

 collect paper, tinfoil and grease

to turn in for the war effort.

I'm on the third row 

grinning, wearing my badge.

 The plaid dress was made by our

neighbor out of feed sack material

and trimmed with rick rack.

~ ~ ~

Here’s the opening paragraph.

T H E   B E S T   T H I N G   A B O U T   S E C O N D  G R A D E was World War II. The main reason being that Miss Ruby Price was the meanest teacher I’d ever had, except for one special morning when she yanked us into place, two by two, marching us down the wide marbled hallway for an important announcement about the war effort.

~ ~ ~

Then I go back to the beginning. 

 Chapter 2.

IN THE BEGINNING . . .

MY CHILDHOOD WAS LONELY. I was an only child with no daddy, so I'll just start by saying that my story is more about being born with a broken heart than anything else. I know it's hard to think that a baby can come out of a womb so sad and all, but I did. It was like being born with a port wine stain on my heart, because no one could see it, especially me, not until later, and then, I could only feel it.

~ ~ ~

Chapter 3

FAMILY SECRETS AND MYSTERIES

The memoir is also about Mother

who grew up in the Roaring Twenties!

Mother (r.) (c. 1928) on a double-date with her

friend, Grace in the North Georgia Mountains.

 They wore matching striped

pajama-like dresses.

And, look, they're acting so "jazz age" risque

rolling up their pants' leg.

~~~

In sixth grade we put on a play

 The Queen of Hearts

Every child had a costume.

Robert was the King of Hearts

I was the Queen.

Later he dumped me for a new

girl in town. 

~ ~ ~

The gloved and girdled 1950s began.

Mother posed us,

 (l-r) me, Sandra, Frances & Kay

wearing our first pair

of stockings and heels at Easter.

~~~

Another preface excerpt:

. . . it's about a deep south world of fresh peaches, mimosa fronds, kudzu, baptism, Stone Mountain, Peachtree Street, the U.D.C (United Daughters of the Confederacy), failed auditions, and being miscast in the role of Betty Crocker. 

~~~

Yes, Mother loved to pose me for photos,

 so I wanted to be a movie star

 to make Mother smile.

I call this shadowbox collage,

 "Living Mother's Dreams"

I put all my medals at Mother's feet

and a pair of rhinestone earrings.

~ ~ ~

Okay, that's enough distraction.

Finish proof reading & editing the memoir.

~~~

"Wait a minute . . .!"

Here's one more photo ~ The New Horizon Band

I play a drum in.

This group keeps me sane.

I thank my lucky stars for this group!

We play at Retirement Centers

and Assisted Living Homes.

stay tuned . . .

and,

scroll down to read:

clams casino at the oak room

confessions of a blue tomato

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