When I was a young girl, I used to do flips and cartwheels on a blanket in our front yard. The blanket was supposed to protect my hands from getting pricked by stickers, but it failed miserably, as was evidenced by my bloody palms.
I dreamt of becoming a cheerleader, but I had neither the talent nor the financial backing to bring the dream to fruition. So, I improvised. I bought two purple pom-poms with my allowance money, and I choreographed my own routines at home. I practiced religiously and once I had enough confidence, I put on a show for my mom. I could always count on her to dish out overexaggerated compliments. I was never as good as she made me out to be, but her praise was genuine and loving.
Little did I know, watching me tumble, dance, and cheer in our yard brought back memories of her own childhood. Unlike me, however, my mom fulfilled her dream. Long before my sister and I were a glint in her eye, our mother marched in parades to the Broadway hit Oklahoma! and performed halftime shows at local sporting events. Our mom was a pom-pom girl!
It all started in the late 1950s at a high school basketball game. She was there with her family, watching her brother, Dennis, play. My mom idolized her older brother and loved cheering for him at games, but that night, her attention was drawn to something other than the game. That night, she was drawn to the girls with the colorful pom-poms.
Their performance only lasted a few minutes, but that was just enough time to hook my mom. Although it took some convincing, she eventually talked my grandma into letting her try out for the team, and within a few weeks, she became the newest member of the squad.
My grandma went right to work making a pair of pom-poms out of maroon and white strips of crate paper, and sewing my mom’s uniform, which consisted of a white blouse, short skirt, and a pillbox hat with a strap that came around the chin.
The night of her debut, my mom was filled with nervous energy. She marched out with the other girls and stood in her designated spot. Then it happened. She failed to wait for the cue. She was a half-step ahead of everyone else. While the squad danced in perfect unison, my mom heedlessly performed against the grain. It wasn’t until she looked up to the bleachers and saw the horror on my grandma’s face that she realized she was out of step. But it was too late; she had completed the routine. There was nothing left to do but stand there and politely wait for the other girls to catch up.
I am proud of my mom for the resiliency she displayed at such a young age. She did not let embarrassment hinder her. Instead, she paid better attention, practiced harder, and performed with her squad the remainder of her 8th grade year.
I love that she and I share a similar childhood memory. What fun memories do you have in common with someone you love? Tell us about them in the MemoryBlogger Forum!
6 thoughts on “Pom-pom Mom”
Great story! I shared similar memories with my dad. He raced stock cars in the late 1960’s and I always enjoyed hearing his crazy stories.
Cool! Did you race stock cars too?
No, I raced motorcycles rather than cars, but the racing and competition related to each sport is similar. I could relate to his stories, and he understood what I was experiencing.
How fun! Thank you for sharing! Hope to hear some motorcycle racing stories one day!
Viv, I love your pom pom story! It’s fun to think of the many ways that we’ve been influenced by our parents. I think often of how my parents’ love of travel inspired my desire for travel. Among many other family adventures, we made two cross-country trips in a VW bug from Miami to Oregon. (Can you imagine, LOL??) We camped all along the way, visiting national parks and having grand adventures. So grateful for good parents!
Thanks, Laurel! I have a VW bug now and my husband and I have done some road trips, but I can only imagine the ‘coziness’ you all must have felt traveling as a family! How fun and what a great memory! Thank you for sharing!