eXcessica Author Dakota Trace

Ladies First

That’s what started it all. I remember sitting in my third grade classroom bored out of my mind but vaguely listening to my teacher, Mr. Hoyt. In his hands he held a thick book. Its white cover was a bit battered and the sketch of a little boy’s head with a house as a hat was barely visible between his large fingers. Under them in italic lettering were the words Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstien. As he held the book in his hands, he calmly explained to us that his daughter had begged him to buy this book for her a couple of years ago when she was our age. He thought we’d enjoy it as much as she had. He opened the book in the middle and began to read. From the fact that he barely glanced at the page, it was obvious this was a well read poem.

“Pamela Purse yelled, "Ladies first,"

Pushing in front of the ice cream line.

Pamela Purse yelled, "Ladies first,"

Grabbing the ketchup at dinnertime.

Climbing on the morning bus

She'd shove right by all of us

And there'd be a tiff or a fight or a fuss

When Pamela Purse yelled, "Ladies first."

Pamela Purse screamed, "Ladies first,"

When we went off on our jungle trip.

Pamela Purse said her thirst was worse

And guzzled our water, every sip.

And when we got grabbed by that wild savage band,

Who tied us together and made us all stand

In a long line in front of the King of the land-

A cannibal known as Fry-'Em-Up Dan,

Who sat on his throne in a bib so grand

With a lick of his lips and a fork in his hand,

As he tried to decide who'd be first in the pan-

From back of the line, in that shrill voice of hers,

Pamela Purse yelled, "Ladies first." *

It was 1983, and I was only eight years old. It is the first time I became aware of the written word as a source of pleasure and could be used to express how a person felt. Up until then I normally stared off into space when my teacher read in class. And heaven forbid if I had to actually write a paper. You know that girl in Remember the Titians, the assistant coach’s daughter, Shyrl Yoast? The little girl who loved football, hanging out with her dad and had absolutely no manners to speak of? That was me. I was a tomboy who wanted to be out climbing trees, riding my bike and helping my dad in the garage. I most definitely did not want to read nor did I ever consider myself a “lady” much to my grandmother’s chagrin. I wasn’t like my older cousin, Marie who was every inch a young lady. She never burped or farted in public. Nor did she ever come in with her clothing torn up, dirty and her hair a mess. She had impeccable table manners and a poise I knew I’d never be able to emulate. I’d even heard my grandmother, scolding me and allowing my cousin to have the first piece of dessert because she had acted like a young lady.

So when I heard the opening lines of Ladies First it caught my bored eight year old mind. I listened to Mr Hoyt read the poem and for the first time connected to a story. I knew exactly the frustration the narrator felt. The class would giggle when he did the falsetto for “ladies first” line and there would be laughter when he read the fate of Pamela Purse.

Thinking back now, that was when my love affair with the written word started. With the help of an exceptional teacher and a thick volume of poetry, for the first time I wanted to read. At the time I had little better than a first grade level reading skills. It took me almost the entire year to read all 176 pages but I persevered. In fact I begged and pleaded with my dad to get me a copy of Light in the Attic and Where the Sidewalk Ends. I was so disappointed when Christmas came and there were no books under the tree for me that year. But low and behold, before the school year ended and I finished the last poem in that book, reading it to the class in fact, Mr. Hoyt gave me the battered up copy that he’d bought for his daughter. Inside the cover, his daughter had written a note. Scrawled in a childish hand, it said, “Daddy says you love Ladies First just like me. I want you to have it.- Abigail”

As a writer, I’m frequently asked what first got me interested in writing and how old I was. Well, now you know the answer. It was all because of an extraordinary teacher and his ten year old daughter who gave a battered up copy of Light in the Attic to a poor second grader whose father couldn’t afford to buy her books. I think each author has their influences and people that have molded and encouraged them to hone their writing skills. In my case, not only was it a book of poetry, an teacher and his daughter but also an understanding father who did manage to pinch together enough pennies to buy me Where the Sidewalk Ends for her ninth birthday. So tell me what book influenced you?

Dakota

*Ladies First is a poem from the book, Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstien, copyright Oct 9, 2001. Published by HarperCollins.

Don't forget to check out Dakota's free read, MAKING UP
 

****CONTEST****

This week there will be two winners. In your comment to Dakota please let me know whether you would rather win Meet the Baumgartners by Selena Kitt or Slave to Shadows by Gavin Atlas

at the end of the week I will draw two names, one for each title, from everyone who leaves comments :)

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