Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Two Sisters

A Brevity prompted, 750 words or less, childhood memory


Two Sisters 
1899 - oil on canvas 
Bessie Macnicol


Clarabell was everyone's favorite. She was coined, early on, as the pretty one - the one with golden, carefree curls, apple green eyes, and a pleasant disposition. I, her nemesis, had unruly hair, too many freckles, and a weak chin.

"If you wrap a towel around their heads you can't tell them apart," Mom would say.
"Is that so," said most everyone else.

Clarabell was fifteen months older and in her own words, she was the boss of me. She got to stay up 30 minutes later, she was the first to ride the big yellow school bus, and the one who got everything new.

And she got Davy, she always got Davy. And I got Micky. They were the best part of the Monkees. The Monkees were bigger than Elvis and better than Lassie. And we were just sisters. And I was little and she was big. They were the reason we raced each other every Saturday morning, down the slippery staircase, through the pantry, to the trophy piece of our living-room - an Admiral, wood console, black and white TV.

I was convinced that, if it weren’t for her, I’d have everything I ever wanted. I’d have the sunny side of our bedroom. Davy’s picture would hang right above MY bed. Davy’s face would be the first thing I’d see every morning and the last thing I’d see before I turned out the lights.

And why does the yellow brick road have to dangle from MY side of the ceiling? A limp, long, caution strip of double-sided sticky tape, weighted in misguided flies. I can no longer lie on my bed, stretch my legs up high and point my toes or I’ll touch it. And I never sleep without my bedspread pulled way up, over my head, because I know, someday, one of those flies will come unstuck, and land right between my eyes.

If it weren’t for Clarabell I’d have her cool, baby blue sheets. I’d have the bigger pillow, the better blanket. And I’d have “Bummy,” her best friend, “Bummy.” Her NOT REAL, Easter basket, bunny rabbit that she refused to outgrow. But I wouldn’t have sucked his ears stiff grey. She hugged and tugged the pretty pink stuffing out of him, plucked the snowball tip from his tickly tail.

Everyone knew she loved Bummy more than me.


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15 comments:

  1. Oh, those friggin' Monkees. Davy Jones was the Justin Bieber of his day though, it's true.

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    1. YES... and who was the other one.... oh, David Cassidy. I love this quote Micky...

      "it's a TV show about an imaginary band [...] that wanted to be The Beatles, [but] that was never successful", the actor-musicians soon became a real band. Micky later describe it, "The Monkees really becoming a band was like the equivalent of Leonard Nimoy really becoming a Vulcan."

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  2. Hmm. I was the older sister, by three years. I was probably guilty of getting everything first, and grabbing the best for myself. I didn't always see it that way, of course.

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    1. it does all balance out in the end. and now I have the joy of referring to her as "my older sister."

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  3. Clarabell was a clown too....on the Howdy Doody Show...perfect...


    xoxoxo

    MG

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    1. I actually did research on the name - Clarabell was the clown, as you know, but Clarabelle was the cow. It was a tough choice ... do I name her after a clown or a cow, clown or cow, cow or clown.... decisions, decisions, decisions... xoxox

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    2. Hahaahahahaah!! Oh my !!!!!

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  4. My sister is 19 months older. We had everything the same but different colors. Record players, mohair sweaters, Chatty Baby dolls.
    I have a chicken named Clarabelle:-)

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    1. what a cute name for a chicken! Mohair sweaters... boy, those bring back memories :)

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  5. Aw. This is tender. It's filled with real emotion and melancholy. Hope your sister appreciates it. I enjoyed reading this. Your writing is captivating. I was hooked into the story from the very first line.

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    1. Thanks Myrna. I received a "DECLINE" yesterday and it stings....

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  6. I'm the baby of 4 kids and I was jealous of my older sister who seemed to get to do more and was more popular then me.

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    1. but now they're all OLDER and we're YOUNGER!!! being older is only better for a 21 years tops. after that younger is better (or thats how I see it)

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  7. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

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  8. Love that painting! How very well done!
    I just have an elder brother, no sister for me!
    Have a lovely weekend :)

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Thank you for encouraging my JOY of writing. By reading and commenting you are feeding my soul, stroking my heart, and in the end...making me a better writer.

Thank You For Encouraging My Joy of Writing

Thank You For Encouraging My Joy of Writing
greenmonkeytales@live.com

Shannon E. Kennedy

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Photo by Joan Harrison