Normal

 

As a child growing up and moving frequently, the thing I wanted most was to belong and be normal. At that age normal was some vague idea of a girl who wore Capezio flats, matching sweater and skirt sets, or maybe a shirtwaist and was in regular classes.

Depending on the school, I was always in band or orchestra and took French or German classes, but there regular classes stopped for me. It was supposed to be an honor, but it made me feel singled out. For example, one year my history class was three students who sat by themselves in the hall discussing some assigned topic while the class had a regular lecture inside the room. One history test that year was to orally give the history of the United States from 1800 to the present to my teacher before school one morning. Later on I had to give a fifty minute lecture on the economic aspects of Northeast Africa. The only really great thing about it all, to me, was that my English classes always involved lots of writing. 

I like to write. Math classes were different. It seemed if I was good enough to excel in them they would move me to a more difficult class until I had trouble. I hated math. 

This was during a period in time when women were supposed to be beautiful, needy and dumb. I was failing on all counts. Not to mention money was so tight in our family that even the basics were a luxury, so I cultivated a persona I believed would make me more normal, which meant not being who I was.

And that turned me into who I am. My normal is a jack of all trades and master of none. I am a dabbler, usually a bit more than passable, but less than great. I suppose everyone has a sort of secret desire to be great, but it's what is behind that that makes it happen. Behind me are fifty years of being the eternal optimist. 

That is the one thing I excel at! I am reconciled to enjoying life and leaving the rest up to fate. Who knows? Perhaps I will still stumble into greatness! And there is always the chance that I will be recognized after my death like Van Gogh, or some other very late bloomer!

In the meantime I have learned to be content and while that may, or may not be normal, it is me.