Kids & Art Creating Opportunity

Addie Enters the Fair

2011-05-07T01:20:00.004-04:00

By Giggles Anderson

Addie sat wistfully in her backyard waiting for an idea to appear.
To fall from the tree to the top of her head.

Newton style.

Still a relative unknown to anyone outside of her Honors Math class, Addie really needed to win the Science Fair. Winning meant an A in the class, a trophy, her picture in the local paper and a trip to Bowling Green for the National Science Fair.

Hopeful enough to practice shoddily researched amateur visualization techniques, Addie packed five months in advance for her yet-to-be-won trip to Nationals using the green bowling bag her Dad had passed down to her.

An awkward gift given as he stuffed the last of his worldly belongings into the trunk of his car.

"The marriage is over," he explained as he stooped down to face her eye to eye, "but I am still your Dad and I will always be there for you."

Addie's eye watered as her Dad filled with what adults call regret.

He held her tightly and she knew that everything was going to change. Stubbornly, her tiny hands gripped the bag's handle as it hung from his forearm.

Unwilling to break her grip and her heart on the same day, he took the shiny marbled bowling ball and left her with its green bag.

Addie screamed, "No Daddy! The ball and bag go together!" and flung the bag spitefully towards his car.

Taken aback, but accustomed to his daughter's inherited flair for histrionics, he put the bowling ball in the car, then formally presented the bag over to Addie.

"My ball and this bag do not go together anymore. It happens. My ball will get a different bag and this bag, now your bag, will stay with you, for as long as you want. You know, this was my favorite bag. When I carried it, it reminded me that there was always something that I could do to change my luck. It would mean the world if you took care of it for me."

Dad gently draped the bowling bag about Addie's neck like a lei.

It was quite a sight.

Addie's hair was tousled. Her eyes were raw. Her pink nose bubbled yellow and popped, every now and again.

Her body heaved.

She looked like a lady leprechaun carrying a bag of gold under her chin.

Not to be left out, Mom announced, "Great. Now she looks to be eating from a horse's feed bag."

On cue, Addie waved goodbye to her father and wandered off to do whatever it is that children do as their parents mix it up on the front lawn.

Her parents were such an interesting pair. Mom hovered. Dad was good with the heavy lifting.
And on the first of many occasions to follow, Addie was left holding the bag.

Hoping, wishing and waiting for a chance to change her luck.

"At this rate, it might never happen," she speculated as she ate another handful of gummy bait.

"Orange worms soothe the soul," she wrote in the space where the purpose of her project belonged.

"Maybe extracting iron from cereal boxes is the way to go," she thought as she envisioned a Lego crane hoisting a giant magnet over blended cereal bits.

She wrote in block letters, "How DOES the Iron into the box?"

She stared for a few then marked a horrible line of angry blue waves through the middle of each word.

Addie had access to her brother's Lego blocks, but in truth, she knew she was a million miles from any cereal company listed on a credible stock exchange.

Reality always seemed to stand just outside her reach. Taunting her like a lost candied apple seeking a new owner.

Besides, what rep would show up to a presentation that might scare an entire school of their largest consumers?

Not a one.

Addie needed a better idea.

She needed to build a better mousetrap if she were ever to put an effective end to those baby projects while giving her Dad a valid excuse to leave work early. There would be no more of those childish monstrosities created from used paper towels, egg dye, and newspapers strips. There would be no more kiddie-sci made with paper clips, construction paper, unforgiving globs of crackled paste, and 6V lantern batteries.

With invitation-styled precision, she wrote near the top edge of the page: A better mousetrap: The green way to trap rodents.

The title was perfect. Absolutely perfect. She had no clue what the trap would look like or if it even worked. But that didn't matter. She would figure something out.

This year, the baking soda volcano would bear someone else's name.

Addie Learns to Begg

2010-08-05T19:05:00.008-04:00

By Giggles Anderson

Beggar's Delight was a the most perfect gift anyone could get.
The size of a pink bowling ball when he slept
with his head resting on his tail.

The best friend a girl could have.

Like a doll, but better.
Alive.
After school, he would run straight into her arms,
heart beating like afternoon rain on a zinc roof.
Begg liked to breathe in her face and lick her ears.

Begg treated Addie's head like it was a giant ice cream cone.
Addie treated Begg as if he were a giant cloud:
soft and fluffy.

The cur wiggled like an earthworm,
and after a heavy rain,
both were equally as muddy.

As a pup, Begg would race Addie to the kitchen.
Begg beat her every time.

Eventually Addie named Begg after
the most beautiful horse in her world--
a cocoa-toned thoroughbred swaddled
in a regal purple and green outfit.

Notwithstanding the filly's fifth-place standing
at the Kentucky Derby, Addie thought the horse
a champion.

Mother did not see it that way.

As far as She was concerned, thoroughbred was a term
reserved for winners.

A well-bred loser indicated a problem in the care.
The feeding. The grooming.

Perhaps a mutation in the parentage.

Such problems were to be appropriately addressed.
Not admired.

And if at all possible, any problem associated with parentage
was to be promptly and unceremoniously buried.

Forever forgotten.

"That dog will fare better if you name him after a winner,"
Mother announced to Her daughter, who appeared not
to be paying Her any mind.

Those twelve ominous words hung in the air
like mistletoe at a Christmas party.
Everyone expects to see it.
Smart folk walk to avoid it.

Begg and Addie went everywhere together.
But not really.

Together they traveled to the park, the zoo,
last summer's trip to Kalamazoo,
the grocery store, the Post Office.

To heaven and back again.

Addie went to school for hours without her little lamb.
And Begg, out of pure spite, of course,
wandered over to the neighbor's house.

With increasing regularity.

And every morning,
first thing,
before any hair brushing
or face washing,
Addie would walk to the middle of the street
carrying a Beggless leash, and
Gina would walk to the middle of the street
carrying a handful of Begg.

Their trade agreement would have made Nixon proud.

The morning custody exchange both embarrassed
and annoyed Mother, who ordinarily reveled
in the pomp and circumstance of tradition.

"What a thing! Here I am trying to raise
a young woman who can survive, in the world."

On Her own.

And Her rambunctious daughter seemed happy to share her dog
with the mongrel next door...

"There will be no more of this routine Begging on my watch,"
Mother muttered to the lint on Her blouse as she brushed it away.

Addie Gets A Nickname

2005-10-07T09:37:00.005-04:00

By Giggles Anderson

Addie, now 13 years old, remembers how sweet life used to be. Father would come to her bedroom, armed with various chocolate candy bars. The two would chat about school, homework, and current events.

Addie loved that Father cared what she thought about the world. He would ask her hard questions just like Stone Phillips.

She suggested America send all the poor people to Wyoming. Father called her a Republican. Addie proposed a tax increase to fund free medical care for everyone. Father called her a Socialist.

Politics would never again be so much fun.

Sometimes he would ask about The Boys and threaten to strangle any derelict that tried to look under Addie’s dress. “Just say the word, Biscuit, and I will squeeze his neck until his head pops,” was one of the many threats Father hurled at potential beaus.

As if she could be so lucky. Father clearly hadn’t gotten the memo.

The Boys ignored her for the entire 7th Grade, noticed her on the fifth day of the 8th Grade, and instantly turned on her. The Boys at Middle School, the same ones of whom Georgina and Addie once dreamed, teased her mercilessly.

Addie could thank Mr. Porter’s Science class for that one.

The teacher asked “What is the specialized connective tissue that functions as the major storage site for fat in the form of triglycerides?”

Addie sensing a chance to put her best foot forward raised her hand confidently.

Mr. Porter glanced down at his seating chart and said, “Adelaide, you have the answer?”

Addie’s authoritative voice broke the still of the quiet classroom.

“Adipose.”

Mr. Porter smiled, nodded and marked a participation point on the seating chart.

And in the dead air between the notation of her grade and the next question one of The Boys muttered, “She should know.”

Addie felt as large as a house and as small as a mouse as a humiliating snicker thundered across the entire class.

A month would pass before Addie would volunteer another answer in class.

From that day forward, Addie was known all over Cordova Heights Middle as Addipose.

“This was certainly not popularity I was hoping for,” Addie wrote in her new brown suede Lindsay Lohan journal.

Middle school, full of never before experienced trials and tribulations, filled a new journal each month. Addie had eleven journals for the 7th Grade, one for each month of the 10-month school year and one for the two summer months.

Addie longed for the earlier years of her schooling when she could fit the events of her school year into three journals with more than a few blank pages to spare.

Addie ended the sixteen pages of feverish introspection about Addipose and her inability to dribble, pass or shoot from the free throw line by writing, “Father would be all over The Boys if He knew about it. If I tell Him, He will rush to the school and scream at them.”

Father continued to visit Addie in her bedroom.

He would usually arrive with a prepackaged bag of Hershey miniatures, a mishmash of Brach’s candies, or a Walmart bag half full of chocolate candy bars produced by the M&M Mars Company.

Sometimes Father would eat one by Himself. Sometimes they would share one. Sometimes He’d put one in his shirt pocket, for later.

But Father, bless His ever giving heart, would leave the remaining candies for Addie to enjoy at her leisure.

Father would always whisper with a wink, “Don’t tell Mother, don’t tell John.”

He had a Cool side to him and Addie, comforted by Father’s presence and unwilling to mar her father’s image of her by introducing Addipose into her life at home, never mentioned the daily taunts she endured at school.

This was her secret.

Sugar Sauce

2005-10-03T19:43:00.005-04:00

By Giggles Anderson

Addie walks into her Mother’s kitchen and hears either John or her cousin, Will, say, “Take it. She won’t even miss it.”

The two boys were standing near the kitchen counter. John was holding a large plastic container filled with white sugar. Will was triumphantly gloating over a large cup of the glistening white granules.

“Where didja find the sugar?” she asked.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” John told her. “The less you know, the better off we are. Just get outta here, Ad.”

Addie sauntered off to her bedroom without any information regarding the sugar’s fate. She was feeling dumber than a cup. At least a cup could be trusted to hold all kinds of stuff.

Addie couldn’t hold a secret to save her life. Or her parent’s marriage.

Addie reached under her mattress and produced five chocolate candy bars from her secret stash. Candy always made her feel better and Addie kept bags of them hidden in different parts of the house.

Mother found this sort of candy hoarding appalling and like a crazed Gestapo, rid their home of any foods she thought were contributing to Addie’s burgeoning body.

The Battle of the Bulge had turned into a “take-no-prisoners” War. It was Addie and John against Mother. John’s sugar discovery would be a tasty victory.

She couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into whatever sugary concoction her brother would present to her at their midnight planning session.

Addie marked a large red X on her Britney Spears calendar. It was the day of Father’s wedding, August 27, 2005, just one year after he left home and three days before Addie’s birthday.

Addie, who is two years younger than John, didn’t find out about the wedding from her Mother, her Father or her brother, John.

No one ever told her anything.

Well, except for that one time.

“We used to play together,” wrote Addie in her hot pink faux leather Paris Hilton journal. “Gina was the best. She had all the latest toys and the best imagination. It was great to play CareerCenter with a girl for a change. Me and Georgina take turns playing Mommy, Nurse, Dr. Laura, Hostess or Princess --all during peace time. When I blew out the candles on the cake presented for my 12th birthday, I wished that I could trade John and have Georgina as my sister.”

Addie liked playing with Georgina mostly because they looked so much alike.

They had the same button nose and a wide gap between their front teeth. They had the same Hazel eyes on faces lightly tanned without the sun. Two oval heads crowned by a curly field of easily tangled orangish-red hair. The two same-aged girls dreamed of bras, braces, breasts and boys.

And not those fake boys at Crescent Elementary School. Real boys. The kind that show up right before a Spelling quiz, whisk them away to a well-furnished apartment, and buy them anything from the Mall.

There was one dream and one thing, inextricably connected, that the soul sisters did not share.

Addie alone dreamed of being thin. Then, she could borrow Georgina’s clothes, with or without permission.

Addie loved her Brother and liked playing with him. But, he was no Georgina.

No matter what role he was assigned, John would always form an army of rebels and attack the CareerCenter. John was a natural fighter who dragged Addie into this war with Mother just as he routinely dragged her dolls into war.

Addie didn’t want to fight; she preferred eating.

When Mother severely slashed her access to sodas and fast food items, Addie didn’t complain. When Mother banned potato chips and other fast food items from the house, Addie cringed.

The straw that finally broke Addie’s back was Mother’s outright ban of all sugars and chocolate candies. Addie, feeling annoyed and unfairly persecuted, reluctantly joined forces with John, who had declared war months before.

She already lost Father; she would not give up Chocolate without a fight.