The Myth of Wile E

When Life Gives You Lemons

After the Soylent Green Incident (as it came to be known), Mama told Dougie to make sure I was very very quiet and did not touch anything. Mama said no children of hers were going to behave like ill-bred holler monkeys. From then on, Dougie had to feed me refrigerated Charleston Chews and play cat's cradle with me off in the corner. This left me safely tongue-tied and finger-tied while Mama and Gladdy charmed the front desk secretary.

"Ma'am, as I explained over the phone, we are not accepting any new clients at this time," every secretary would tell Mama.

"But you must understand," Mama would say, "she's not just some cute kid off the street, with no business being here. She's already a rising star. Gladdy, sing something for the lady, honey."

"Ma'am, this isn't an audition. If you'll just leave a résumé and headshot-"

"And I'll have you know, some very important people have said that Gladys is quite talented. She's won all sorts of pageants and she's a big celebrity back home."

"Back home?"

"Kentucky. Gladdy, show the nice lady your pictures."

"Sorry, ma'am, we don't handle country singers. You might try Nashville."

"But she can dance, too. And act. And twirl batons."

The secretary would look over her glasses at Gladdy.

"Résumé and headshots."

It became a mantra: résumé and headshots.

At first Mama said to Gladys, "Don't worry, they're supposed to tell everyone not to audition. That's so they're not flooded with no-talent pests who come in and make a nuisance of themselves. The secretary had to hand us the usual line, but as soon as we leave she'll call her boss and say, you've gotta see this kid, she's a natural!"

But after a few months of "résumé and headshots," Mama decided, "It's these damn secretaries. They wouldn't know talent if it flew over them and pooped on their heads."

So the next time we went inside a giant actor trap, Mama pointed to a video camera near the ceiling.

"See that, Gladdy? It's like you're on Candid Camera," Mama told her. "They want people to think it's a security camera, but it's not. I'll bet the agents watch that camera from their desks. That way they can see who would naturally look good on TV. So don't you worry any more about the secretaries who wouldn't know talent if it pooped on their heads. You just smile and dance for the camera, and I promise, one of the agents will see you."

Gladys sucked in a huge breath, and began singing "It's the Hard Knock Life," putting her hands on her hips and stamping her feet. Like playing charades, she acted out the words to the song as she sang them, from the kissing and kicking, to the shivering and fighting, to the throwing in of the towel. She even acted out treating and tricking, by knocking on an invisible door, holding out an invisible sack, and looking into the invisible sack with extreme disappointment.

As she was building up for the big finish, two security guards appeared and hustled us to the front door.

"Résumé and headshots," they intoned, as they pushed us outside and disappeared back into the actor trap.

"Headshots," Mama said, storming down the street and pulling me, Dougie, and Gladys along as if she were a kite caught in a gust, that we couldn't quite hang onto. "Headshots. Well. Fat chance getting your father to help pay for them."

Dougie and Gladys looked at each other. They started to cry. And suddenly I realized that come to think of it, I hadn't seen Daddy in a while. Maybe it had been a few days, maybe a few weeks-I wasn't quite sure. He wasn't coming in to say goodnight any more when he came home from work (or looking for work). And he was already gone in the morning when I woke up. Including weekends.

"Not like he ever knew the value of a dollar anyway. Not like he ever understood what it is to have goals. How sometimes, you have to invest in goals. How sometimes, when life gives you lemons, you have to make lemonade. How sometimes, you have to make Something out of Nothing. But we know, don't we? Don't we?" She stopped and looked at us, blinking away tears.

Gladys bit her lip and stared up at Mama, worried. Mama gazed at Gladys for a moment, then hugged her fiercely. "We know, don't we?" Mama kept saying.

None of us answered. I, for one, thought it was just as well if Daddy wouldn't pay for headshots. They sounded dangerous, and I didn't like to think of them happening to Gladys.

I turned around and looked back at the actor trap we had just left. And wouldn't you know it, the movie of California was playing again. It was a little different this time; maybe a remake, or a sequel. The images of Gladys, Mama, and Dougie were all turned around backward now. But someone who looked just like me was giving me the OK sign, right in the middle of the movie. I waved, and they waved at me. And when I smiled, they smiled back.