You Ain't Right Club

[LivGolden]

Dear Mr. Popeye,





While I'd liked to have joined the YARC Club by simply agreeing with others, it's not right. I won't even attempt to claim that constitutes becoming a member of the YARC (though it might...)


I don't usually tell this Story as my mother asked me to stop telling it, 47 years ago. 

My older sister was every teacher's dream. Nancy was smart, pretty and athletic. She could also sing like an angel. Each year the choir director would send a message to our mother that she could not wait until I graduated from Jr. High to High School so I could join her choir and also a Club she sponsored for nice young ladies.

To give you an idea of how different my sister and I were - while Nancy was taking piano lessons, I was taking the money my parents had given me to pay Mrs. Pluess and I was paying some old guy to let me ride his horse across the parade field in front of Mrs. Pluess's house. Mrs. Pluess and I had a deal - neither of us would tell...?

Anyway, the day came when I graduated to High School. I showed up at the choir teacher's door and she met me there. She embraced me and told me how happy she was to finally have Nancy's sister in her choir. She asked me to sing for her. To audition. 

I was puzzled at why Mrs. Seale was tearing-up during my audition.  I thought I was pulling off a great rendition of "Oh, What A Beautiful Doll". But Mrs. Seale looked awfully sad. And that's a happy song!

My sister couldn't keep her emotions in tact, either. Nancy had a bit of an attitude, at times. 

After the school nurse released Mrs. Seale to come back to class, I asked her if she thought I was an 'alto' or a 'soprano'. Mrs. Seale looked puzzled. My sister tried to intervene by telling Mrs. Seale that we had both been taking piano lessons from Mrs. Pluess and that I would probably be happier playing the piano for the choir.

Oh, dear...

Anyway, make a long story short -

Mrs. Seale asked if I was sure I did not want to take an art class or a jewelry making class instead of choir. I told her I would but that I most definitely could not because, more than anything, I wanted to be a member of her Nice Young Ladies Club!

Mrs. Seale seemed excited or exasperated. One of the two...

"Liv, I will make an exception just for you. You may become a Nice Young Lady without having to be in my Choir."

"Oh, yes, please! What do I have to do?"


"Simply relay an incident where you had to rely on being a nice young lady."


Well, I thought about it and then I remembered when -

"One day our New Orleans-born Creole grandmother discovered photographs of young women whom our grandfather had known while serving in Brussels during the Great War. When the US Army found out that Grandpapa spoke a peculiar type of French, he was reassigned from submarine duty to be a War Correspondent for our Government. I knew this because Grandpapa spent his twilight years drinking brandy and reminiscing to we grandchildren about the perks of his duties. 

"Well, after Grandpapa died, Grandmama found about 100 photographs Grandpapa kept safe in a box under their bed. They were all of naked women - in various poses."


"Liv, how does this prove you were or are a Nice Young Lady?"

"Well, I don't want to tattle but when our mother heard about her papa's photo collection, Mother said mean things. Nancy didn't handle it any better, telling Grandmama she should write a letter to Grandpapa even through he was likely in you-know-where and wouldn't know the difference or care. Well, I took a more lady-like approach." 

"What pray-tell do you mean?"

"Well, I'll tell you. I spread out each of those photographs and to make our dear grandmother feel better, I noted the posture of each one of those women, accordingly."



That, Mr. Popeye, was the very first I'd ever I heard of the YARC.


Let me know how my application goes, soon as you know.


If this doesn't get me in, I'd like to agree someone in a previous post, please.


Thank you for your time and consideration.


Sincerely,
Liv