Playing dress-up never truly ends.
Jim and I lived in Pennsylvania in a cute little cottage south of town. Our heart’s desire was to move back to the Rocky Mountains, where we had met and married. We had close friends in this small community in western Colorado, so we loaded up the U-Haul and headed west, embarking on a grand adventure.
Both of us were children of the 60s, a bit rebellious in our coming of age. It was an exciting time to be young. We were Hippies! The community we joined was kind and loving, always supportive, always welcoming.
We bought a small two-bedroom house on the edge of town. We heated our cozy little home with a wood-burning potbelly stove in the front room and a beautiful Monarch wood-burning cook stove in the kitchen. I loved learning to cook and bake, especially bread, on that magnificent stove.
Evenings usually found me sewing, crocheting, or embroidering while sitting around the potbelly listening to the local public radio, KVNF, while Jim hung out on the couch drinking a beer and reading.
I crafted a wildly creative handbag for myself out of old, worn-out jeans. I embroidered the words ‘Peace’ and ‘Love’ in rainbow-colored threads and added small silver and amethyst beads and a couple of crystals. It was a work of art!
A woman I knew in town who made hand-sewn children’s clothing complimented me on my gorgeous bag, which made me love her clothing line all the more impressive. She mostly made girls’ dresses with smocking, full skirts, and matching blouses with pink, white, and lavender flowers. I bought a few of these adorable outfits for my sweet daughter, Aerial.
Aerial was a bright and stubbornly opinionated young fashion aficionado. Our little blue-eyed blond was sweetly impish and full of life, filling every moment of every day with laughter, silliness, and doing things her way.
Ever since she could walk, talk, and dress herself, our little fashion aficionado was mighty picky about her clothes. She always favored a few special outfits. Her favorites would shift from time to time, but while that outfit was the one, it wasn’t unusual for her to wear the same one every day for several days in a row.
Naturally, this frustrated me as a mom, but I did my best to be patient and supportive. Often, to her frustration, I encouraged Aerial to think for herself. When she had a dilemma, I loved reminding her to take a few minutes and follow her heart. When it came to what to wear, she always did exactly what she wanted, and there was simply no way to change her mind.
Gotta love a Being who knows what they want.
Playing dress-up begins at age five and never truly ends.
~Kate Spade
Many a night, I’d sneak into her room after she fell asleep, wash her dress out by hand, and hang it near the stove so it would dry by morning. She insisted on wearing the same dress day after day, so I insisted on making sure it was clean.
The Dreaded Note
One sunny, bright October day, Aerial got off the school bus and presented me with a note from her teacher, Miss Finch. “Ugh!” I muttered under my breath while ripping open the envelope and reading the handwritten note.
Mr. and Mrs. Starr,
I would like to meet with you on Wednesday morning to discuss your daughter’s progress. I have scheduled this meeting for 10 am in Aerial’s classroom.
Thank you,
Miss Althea Finch
“E gads,” I swallowed hard, boohooing on Jim’s shoulder when he came in for dinner that evening. I read him the note and then handed it to him. He sat it aside, not bothering to look at it.
“What shall we do?” I cried as I paced back and forth from the living room to the dining room.
“Nothing to do,” Jim replied. “Go to the meeting, hear what she has to say.” And with that, he turned and finished his meal.
“Please, Jim, make time to go with me. I don’t want to do this alone!” I pleaded. He worked hard to provide for our little family, but his work came first more often than not. He loved his daughter, that was clear, but when it came to raising her, that was on me.
“No can do, my love. Important work awaits and cannot be postponed,” he muttered his usual response.
Meeting Miss Althea Finch
Wednesday finally came. I woke early and dressed in my best secondhand pair of bellbottom jeans and a cute sparkly teal blue T-shirt I scored at the Baptist women’s auxiliary thrift sale. I finished my morning coffee, slipped on my L.L. Bean hiking boots, and set out walking to the school.
I was perplexed, wondering why this meeting, why now. Has my spunky blue-eyed gal done something? Have I? Oh, my!
When I saw the children were outside at recess, I slipped around back of the building and into the office. I was escorted to Aerial’s classroom and asked to wait. Miss Finch would be in shortly. I admit I was more than slightly nervous sitting there sweating bullets and wishing I’d worn another tee or, at least my James Gang denim jacket with sparkles and embroidered stars across the back. I smiled, thinking of the fun Jim, Aerial, and I had at the concert in Denver last summer, and I felt a bit better.
Finally, Miss Finch arrived. She was much younger than I imagined, with short, mousey brown hair and dark brooding eyes. She wore a buttoned-up collared blouse, plain A-line skirt, and no frills or jewelry. Her face contorted with tension as she spoke. “Thank you for coming, Mrs. Starr,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Please call me Celeste,” I replied, smiling warmly.
Ignoring my request to call me by my first name, she sat down and continued.“Your daughter, Aerial, is one of the brightest children I have this year. It is delightful to have her in my class.”
I tried to relax, but something about this made me flinch. Miss Finch’s words seemed artificial as if she was forcing herself to speak them, as if she was hiding something.
I took a deep breath and waited for the other shoe to drop. By now my tummy and throat were tight, a sure sign something was coming. I braced myself.
Audibly clearing her throat, she finally spoke. “Mrs. Starr,” she started, “Aerial is doing well in school. She’s bright and charming. She gets along well with her fellow students.”
I was delighted to hear this and smiled inwardly, proud of my baby girl. Still, I couldn’t help wondering why her teacher had asked me to come in for this one-on-one conference.
Our highest endeavor must be to develop free human beings who are able of themselves to impart purpose and direction to their lives. The need for imagination, a sense of truth, and a feeling of responsibility—these three forces are the very nerve of education.
~Rudolf Steiner
“Are you aware that Aerial has worn the same dress to school every day this week? Did you know she does that often, wearing the same dress for several days in a row?” She spoke slowly, noticeably grimacing. Her tone was accusatory.
Where was this teacher going with this accusation? What was she getting at? I sat in front of her, paralyzed by the weirdness of the situation.
I looked up and spotted her giving me a tiny sneer as if she’d caught me doing something wrong. Did she think I was neglecting Aerial? Maybe too stoned to care? Taking another slow, deep breath, I regained my composure and suddenly found it all hilarious.
I’d been here before. Many folks here in this peaceful valley have lived here for generations. I found that most were not just uncomfortable with non-conformity, they were downright threatened by it.
I stifled my laughter, knowing that was not the best approach. Miss Finch was serious about this clothing issue—what I felt was a nonissue. Smiling broadly, I leaned in, looked her in the eyes, and spoke with cool confidence.
“Why, yes, I am. Thank you for noticing. In our home, we encourage creativity and free thinking. I’m sure you’ve noticed that she is a headstrong, free-spirited child.”
After a short pause, never losing eye contact, I continued. “Is there a problem?”
I caught Miss Finch off guard; her mouth opened, but words did not come. Finally, she stumbled. “Well, no, of course not,” she stuttered. “We just thought you and your husband might need help finding clothing for her, and we have some resources …” Her voice drifted as she hung her head in defeat, not knowing what more to say.
At this point, I stood up, keeping eye contact, and with a big smile, said, “Well, unless you have more, I must split. I’m late meeting friends for coffee.”
Now grinning ear-to-ear, I turned and grabbed my beautiful hand-sewn bag, with the words “Peace” and “Love” embroidered in rainbow-colored threads. I reached over her desk and shook her hand. She looked at me in wide-eyed amazement, as if her brain had just exploded with completely unthinkable concepts about parenting.
I never replied to her offer to help us find clothes for Aerial. Instead, I left the classroom thinking, “If only Miss Finch could see Aerial’s closet, stuffed full of so many colorfully expressive handmade outfits.
I understood the words Miss Finch could not speak. I’d been here many times before. I was used to the look of disapproval for us Hippies and our lifestyle. After all, we were not only outsiders, we were outrageously non-conforming, long-haired freaks listening to that obnoxious, loud rock-n-roll.
Miss Finch missed an opportunity to get to know me and, more importantly, to get to know Aerial. Her rush to judgment diminished her ability to fully see the child, the same one she claimed to be bright and charming. Her oversight didn’t allow for the abundance of love we humans could have for each other, for our community, and for our precious earth. Her judgment only perpetuated fear of “otherness.”
Listen with ears of tolerance! See through the eyes of compassion! Speak with the language of love.
~Rumi
Now I see how life is so very short and sweet and precious and comes in many sizes, shapes, and colors. Prejudging someone for any reason limits our innate ability to live a full and abundant life. Being fearful of otherness shuts down our inner work to learn and grow into the beautiful souls we are.
Throughout her childhood and teens, dear Aerial continued her delight in dressing with her passion for color and her own individual style. As an adult, her wardrobe changes with the seasons and her whims, especially in alignment with her love of music, sparkle, and colorful embroidered designs.