A Broken Strand of Pearls

When I was 11 years old, I was cast as the star of my school's play "Really Rosie."  Me, a 5th grader in a K-8 school! I was "Rosie!"  I was the star!  Everyone would be looking at me and I would get to boss around the other characters!

If you're not familiar with the play (and cartoon), it was written by Maurice Sendak and Carole King and features the adventures of an imaginative girl living "in a simple, humble, neighborhood."  I think I got the part because I was the only girl who tried out who sang loudly and without shame.  To be honest, I've also always been a bit on the dramatic side.

Anyway, Rosie is obviously dressed in her mother's clothes with an oversized red satin dress, boa, large hat and really big shoes.  As part of my costume, my grandmother loaned me her opera length strand of pearls to wear... as long as I was "really careful, because they were VERY OLD!"

I remember being so excited the night of the performance. I was wearing a gorgeously slinky red satin dress, I had my grandmother's pearls, a great big hat, and I WAS THE STAR! The performance went so well, that two people...TWO... brought me flowers after the show was over. Forget the fact that one was my dad, and the other was the principal of the school.  I had on fabulous make up, everyone applauded me, and I didn't make any mistakes!  I even got a standing ovation! (I am painfully ignoring the fact that the Kindergarten group that sang the "ABC" song got a longer standing ovation, but that doesn't matter.)

After the ovations, and bows and signing programs for my grandmother and family, (Gosh, I was as good as a movie star, everyone wanted my autograph!) I went back to the music classroom to change out of my costume in my own private Star's Dressing Room! (Again, ignore the fact that it was a tiny bathroom in the music room so the Kindergarten kids wouldn't have to walk the halls on their own.) High on the adrenaline that comes off a stellar performance, I started changing quickly because my parents had promised to take me out for ice-cream in celebration.

Imagine my absolute horror when my grandmother's VERY OLD opera length strand of pearls disintegrated in my hands! The tiny pearls sounded like rain drops as they hit the floor, rolling everywhere, and some even landed IN THE TOILET! I burst into tears and wouldn't come out of the bathroom.  I had broken my grandmother's very old, very special strand of pearls that she had loaned me to wear in the play. My night had just gone from fantastic to the absolute-worst-day-in-my-life!!!



Photo by Sugar Rush Creations on Flickr Used under Creative Commons License

My mother came to find me because I had taken so very long changing, and found me curled up on the floor of the bathroom in tears, half dressed and with my stage make-up smeared on my face.  She didn't yell like I had expected she would. She helped me find as many of the pearls that had scattered as we could, and the Music teacher (a.k.a. the Director of the Play) found a little baggie we could put the pitiful remains in. Neither one of us was willing to reach into the toilet to find the pearls that had landed there. Mom also made me wash my face and helped me to get dressed again.

As we walked back out to the parking lot where my father, brothers and grandmother were waiting, I started to feel that heavy despair hit me again.  I stammered out, between sobs, what had happened to my grandmother's VERY OLD and very important strand of pearls.  She gave me a hug and told me that they had broken before, and she had replaced the string with Dental Floss, so she had been expecting them to break again in the future so I shouldn't worry!

Dental Floss!

Looking back, I'd bet you dollar to donuts that those "pearls" were plastic, but my poor 11 year old brain was absolutely certain that I'd been wearing a fortune around my neck.

What about you? Have you ever had a traumatic experience such as mine?