I was never a Scout, but I’ve always been prepared. My Mom told me I was born with a purse in my hand. I recently found out how true that is. My grandson and I were looking through a box of old photos and I found the one in the picture below. I’m the one on the left with glasses and the only one in the photo with a purse. I was four. I wasn’t dating anyone in particular at the time, but occasionally went out with a young man named Danny. He was lots of fun and full of unexpected excitement. And his best friend owned a T-top Corvette. We loved to pile in the car, four of us at a time and cruise around Pensacola.

On one particular trip about town, we were cruising east on Cervantes street. I was decked out in large hoop earrings and the ‘shag’ wig. I was under the belief that it made me look much older than my sixteen years. And Danny seemed to like the change. Tom, Danny’s friend was at the wheel. We were all laughing, listening to music and having a grand time. The T-top was open and the cool air felt wonderful on our sun-drenched

skin.

About the time we crossed the Bayou Texar bridge, the laughter became much louder, though I wasn’t sure what was so funny. At the same time I felt much cooler than I should. I reached my hand up to secure the wig. To my shock and surprise, all I felt was the stocking cap. I lifted myself enough to peer out of the T-top backwards and saw my beautiful wig lying in the middle of Cervantes Street. My beautiful wig that I had worked so hard to purchase. I wanted to cry but at this point there wasn’t much to do but laugh.

Tom turned around. Danny jumped out and grabbed the week. I stuffed it in my purse, and we continued our adventure. We stopped at Jerry’s Restaurant, grabbed a cool drink and all had a great laugh.

I haven’t owned a wig since. I didn’t see Danny after that day–my choice, not his. With time, I learned to laugh about it and have shared the story often. What was a moment of embarrassment became a moment of laughter and a wonderful memory.