My dreams spilled over into my daily reality. Dressing-up, had become an important aspect in my life. Some days I'd play "Movie Star" wearing, full makeup, long dresses, high heels, and old jewelry, all given to me by the neighborhood ladies. On other days, I'd dress like a nun with sheets draped all over me and rosary beads hanging by a belt, as I sternly taught an entire classroom of imaginary students. There was no way around it, I eventually decided to step out into the public with my nun habit and share my new occupation. My neighbors would pass me on the street with amused smiles.
"Why, good afternoon, Sister Paula! Lovely day isn't it?"
"Yes, yes it is a beautiful day. Bless you." I would say, bowing my head as they passed.
These little costume charades, and my endeavors of maintaining as much perfection and order brought a sense of security to my life. I made endless lists of chores for myself, such as:
1. Fold sweaters, neatly
2. Clean closet and put shoes in order
3. Wipe perfume bottles and arrange like Annette's
(bottles contributed by the neighborhood ladies)
4. Put stuffed animals on bed like Annette's
5. Fold back bedspread after dinner, with pajamas on pillow
6. Group Jesus statues to the right of the saints
My father, meanwhile, had landed a job as a record distributor and since he was an ardent lover of music, it seemed that the job might last. Our den held at least two thousand 45's, 78's, and LP's. The sounds of Hank Williams Sr., Les Paul and Mary Ford, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Gene Autry, and many more artists, filled the house. Dad had his personal favorite songs that were constants, such as, "Shrimp Boats" and "Old Soldiers Never Die." Because of his new job, Dad knew which artists the record companies were plugging long before the public. As we grew older, we started thinking that Dad was a very hip guy . . . much to his amusement. Throughout the years, he predicted all the new heart throbs, like Bobby Rydell, Paul Anka, Frankie Avalon and Bobby Darin, even The Beatles. How did he do it?
Thanks to my father, there were phonographs in almost every room of our home and there was rarely a moment when music was not playing. Music assuaged our troubled household. I took pride in my vast knowledge of recording artists, especially for my age. I will admit though, that I screwed up on the "King." Of course, I knew of Elvis' hits, but I just hadn't seen him yet. That was going to change because he was about to make his debut on The Ed Sullivan Show.
On that unforgettable night, my older sister Geri, who was then, in her early teens, gave an over-night party for her girlfriends, to celebrate the occasion. I, not having been invited to the party, decided to set up spy headquarters behind a corner chair in the living room. Actually, I wasn't even supposed to be up, but I was willing to risk any punishment, so as not to miss a thing. There, they were, seven giddy, giggly girls, sitting in their pajamas, eating popcorn and hovering around the T.V. in taunt anticipation. The countdown began. The tension mounted. Somewhere between the screams and swoons, I heard Ed Sullivan announce that Elvis was going to be on, "Rrrrright after the commercial!" I figured it was a good time to sneak away unnoticed and grab some party chips and dip, in the breakfast room.
Hearing the commercial ending, I quickly slipped back to my spy headquarters. However, unbeknownst to me, the comedian Joe E. Lewis, was to appear before Elvis. As the girls were still in hysterics, shaking their heads, and hugging each other; I assumed that this wide-mouthed, apparition was the infamous, Elvis. "Yuk." I said aloud. My mouth dropped in disbelief. They're soooo stupid. I'm going to bed!
 | scott  Kenneth s cornwall |
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| | Paula  Paula Servetti |
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| | The Guard  |
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| | Paula Paula Servetti |
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