Memories of Childhood, always good blog fodder.
Principal Lord, what a man. He was great guy and a gorgeous one at that. He had presence and charisma that even the youngest children at our school would take notice of it. And his name, can you believe it? Just saying it makes me think of him with a dreamy smile and real affection. Principal Lord.
The parking blocks in the teacher’s lot lined up nicely and the kids would walk and hop on them on our way into the building. I was doing just that when I slipped on a wet block and put a gash in my knee that would not stop bleeding. Being the wimp that I was, I cried uncontrollably.
Principal Lord drove me home. How cool! We found Sister After Me and soon we were in front of our house. He carried me to the door (Sweet!) and when the door opened, I think we both gasped. Mami was wearing a tattered housecoat, had plastic gloves on and her hair was covered with goop. What was that stuff!
She grabbed her head in horror when she saw Principal Lord and frantically looked around desperate for something to cover up. Her expression quickly changed from extreme embarrassment to concern and she forgot her head. Soon the red dye was running down her face and dripping on the floor. Who knows what Principal Lord was thinking?
The following year someone pushed me down. My face hit the gravel and a gash opened up over my eye that later required nine stitches. Blood poured down my face getting into my eyes and although I was the biggest wuss ever, I felt perfectly justified in screaming my head off. Again the gallant Principal Lord came to my rescue and drove me home. With blood dripping down my face, he swooped me up and carried me to the door. My mother seeing a man carrying one of her children swung open the door wearing once again, big plastic gloves and black goop in her hair. What are the odds!
A year later, Sister After Me broke her ankle and you guessed it, Principal Lord took her home and carried her to the door. Yes you can guess the rest. Mami opens the door with plastic gloves and was coloring her hair. My poor embarrassed mother. Everyone said she was a beautiful woman, looking a bit like Elizabeth Taylor, but Mr. Lord would never know it.
The three times Principal Lord came to our home. Three times he comes carrying injured children. Three times he finds a woman that is apparently obsessed with her hair color. Did we have radar and know just when and how to embarrass our mother in front of the most gorgeous man on the planet?
Is there a cosmic connection that whenever Mami colors her hair, one of her children incurs an injury? A twist on the old chant that children sing when walking along, “Don’t step on a crack or you’ll break your mother’s back.”
“Color your hair red and a child will break his head.” Really what are the odds?