Friday, October 21, 2011
"Role Models" (poem by Doothy)
Role Models , or How I Became a Lesbian
Every day in the summer I was ten
I ran the four blocks
to the library of the teachers’ college
where they had a magic corner
called “the children’s collection” and let
you check out books.
Two was the limit at one time
So as soon as I got my quota I rushed
Back home to read as fast as I could,
Then dashed back for two more.
That way I got to read almost
All the books in the children’s collection
That summer,
And also found my role models
For life:
Jo in a window seat,
bent over her book as she
munched an apple,
Her mane of chestnut hair
Cascading down her back.
And then there was Heidi,
Always sledding down
The mountain,
Or toasting cheese
over her open fire.
I had never seen an “open” fire
But faithfully held my Velveeta slice
Over the blue orange flame
Of the front burner
Of our gas stove
Each day
And prayed it didn’t melt
off the fork,
But usually it did.
I also had never seen a mountain,
For I lived on a prairie,
which was flat,
but planned to visit Switzerland
as soon as possible
when I grew up,
and there I would dance
among the wild flowers
in spring
and ride a sled down to
the valley during winter
and then go home
and get warm
in front of the great open fire
and eat more cheese.
In fifth grade,
I met a real life role model—
Miss Johnson, our teacher, whose hair
was quite short and who later served
in the WAACS during the war.
She had a booming voice
And sparkly brown eyes and
lived with her female partner--
something about her
seemed familiar,
as if Jo and Heidi
had gotten melted
into a single person
and I knew I wanted
to be just like her
when I grew up,
cut my hair short
and have another girl
for my roommate
and indeed,
that is pretty much
what happened.
I still read books
and eat cheese
and think of Miss Johnson
often
and wonder
where she is now,
whether she ever
reads in a window seat somewhere,
while nibbling
on pieces of apple
and toasted cheese.
Dorothy Walters
Oct. 14, 2011
