Shirley, I Jest!: A Storied Life Read Free Page B

same way, and this is why instead of taking over the tickets to the Girls’ vice principal’s office, we deep-sixed them in a trash can behind the auditorium. But the thought did cross my mind about getting caught or called into the vice principal’s office to be asked why she hadn’t received any tickets.
    Lorie even said, “Cin, what if we get caught?”
    I told her, “If that time ever comes, we’ll think of something.”
    We didn’t have to wait long. That time came swiftly one day, marching down the hall behind us.
    “Miss Gorenbien! Miss Williams!” It was the dreaded Girls’ vice principal.
    “I need to speak with both of you!”
    Lorie and I could not slow down. We could not allow her to catch up with us until we rearranged our skirts to fall below our knees. We did this by unrolling them at the waistband. We made it by the skin of our teeth before she swept in.
    Putting an arm around each of our shoulders and squeezing tight, she said, “Girls! I’ve been meaning to call you into the office.” Even with the Girls’ vice principal between us, I could practically hear Lorie’s heart pounding. “I have to let you both know how proud I am of the work the Girls’ League has been doing this semester. Our dress code campaign has paid off! I haven’t received one violation ticket. Good work!”
    We sputtered out our thank-yous as she traveled on down the hall. That night we went to McDonald’s and Orange Julius celebrate. (June Ellen’s Donuts was closed.)
    Along with Girls’ League, I tried out for many school activities. The swim team—didn’t make it. The cheerleading squad—didn’t make it. But then one illustrious day, auditions were held for the school talent show, so I tried out by performing a Bob Newhart routine, “The Driving Instructor.” Not only did I make it into the talent show, but the drama teacher, Mr. Kulp, asked me to take Play Production. He said if I had an elective open, he would skip me past Drama I and put me into Drama II and Play Production. (Thank you, Bob Newhart!) The Play Production class was filled with people who were different from the rest of the student body. There was a kind of electric camaraderie. We performed Our Town , The Man Who Came to Dinner , The Bald Soprano , The Madwoman of Chaillot , and The Diary of Anne Frank . Mr. Kulp was a formidable director who expected discipline and excellence.
    In the class was a girl named Sally Field. I was in awe of her. Even at fifteen she was a great actress. When we would perform plays, she would be in the “A” cast. I would be in the “B” cast. She was head cheerleader. I had sprained my ankle on the down-beat of my routine. I did, however, make it to the drill team. She soon left school to play Gidget and then The Flying Nun. Sally was going to be on television. How exciting! For as much as I loved acting, I didn’t dare consider it as a potential career. So I started thinking about becoming a registered nurse. More specifically, an ER nurse. I loved the idea of helping people in crisis, tending to them, comforting and reassuring them. Not to mention the drama of the PA system calling “Nurse Williams, you’re wanted in Emergency.” There were two small problems. One, I could only manage to get a C in Mrs. Katzman’s physiology class and that was after repeating it in summer school. Who would want to be tended to by a nurse with a C in physiology? And the second problem was blood! When I saw it, I passed out! My nursing career became a fading dream.
    My grandmother had been suffering from heart problems, and one day took a turn for the worse and was rushed to the hospital where she passed away. When my mother came home early the next morning and broke the news to us, I asked her if Grandma had suffered. She said, “It was the strangest thing. I woke up in the night and found her awake, praying. I could tell she was weak. I asked her ‘Mama, are you afraid?’ She had a big smile on her face, her eyes