Datebook: March 24, 2008
I have discovered there are two ways to be inducted into the Total Access Ice-Dance Club.
1. You have to think your mother was put on earth to embarrass you and/or always interfere with your life.
2. You have to be able to recognize all the nuances of greatness reflected in the form of Charlie White.
In my daughter’s case, the two merge into one.
In her defense, I did tell her at Nationals that I would not “ruin her life” by “continually holding her up to ridicule by my constant chit-chat about all things Charlie White,” but I think we all know that deals brokered at Nationals are null and void when the plane lands at the home airport. As the song goes, “it’s a new dawn and a new day.”
And truthfully, if I had ever really intended to embarrass my daughter and her former roommate I would have mentioned their “Charlie White” pins and t-shirts that they wore on “Hair Tuesdays,” but I am not that kind of mother.
So, while the rest of the world followed the dribbling basketball, those of us attracted to sequins and tights waited anxiously for whatever tidbits ESPN offered us each night from Worlds. In the annual ritual of pizza, salad, and free dance, my daughter and friends watched breathlessly as the clock ticked to the anointed minutes dedicated to Ice Dancing.
With it came the montage of skating highlights that featured Charlie and Meryl performing at what looked like eight years of age. This, of course, tugs at a mother’s heart and launches a renewed conversation by the younger set of the “10 things to love about Charlie White.”
I may have things out of order, but as I recall, the main items on the list were:
* his twizzles: they are faster and cleaner than any other in the world.
* his smile: it is so genuine that he could never utter a bad pick-up line, or ridicule his partner if she missed a step or two in an early morning practice. He would probably even offer an encouraging comment about a bad hair day like, “I think My Little Pony was so inspirational for young girls.”
* his dedication: he obviously works hard on his craft and stays focused. He probably leaves Meryl little notes at the end or beginning of each day that say, “Let’s do four run-throughs and then take a few minutes to privately meditate on our performances and visualize our mistakes with corrections.”
I have to admit, the conversations trailed off a bit when the girls saw me taking notes.
“Mom, you aren’t going to write about this! You promised! Because of you, I can never talk to Charlie White, and I can hardly look him in the eye without feeling the need to apologize.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m sure he is used to girls swooning when he walks by.”
“We aren’t swooning, exactly, we just think he’s a good skater. It is embarrassing when you write about him. I know he thinks it’s weird.”
“I am the voice of the people. Do you mean he reads Mombo? I can’t believe…”
“Mom, I’m sure he gets up early on Mondays and keeps hitting the refresh button until the new one is posted. No, silly, but I’m sure people tell him about it. Evan would never be able to pass up an opportunity like that.”
“You mean Evan reads Mombo?”
“Stop, you’re such a freak.”
(They really need to teach the nuances of sarcasm in school. The kids are almost mastering it, but then they lose the dénouement of the moment.)
“I’m just wrapping up what you girls are always saying. Charlie is a role model for skating and the youth of today. He is the opposite of Dante’s levels of Hell, for he possesses the seven layers of goodness.”
Four mouths drop open a little at this. (Two have brownie crumbs on the lower lip). I sigh because I know I start to lose them when I bring in literary allusions.
“You know, for a fund raiser, we could make those little plastic bracelets that so many groups have put out -- blue WWCWD bracelets -- to remind all skaters to twizzle hearty and keep on pushing through the pain.
My daughter collapses onto the ottoman, holding her head in her hands. (I seriously worry that marketing is not the right major for her if she fails to see the vision and likelihood of success for this project.)
“Mom, I’m begging you. I’m sure Charlie would beg you -- if he would ever talk to any of us ever again -- in fact, I’m pretty sure he would give anything not to ever be mentioned on a bracelet of any kind.”
“Really? Do you think he would autograph the purple and pink backpack they gave them at Worlds and send it to you to store my old Mombo columns in?”
“Am I supposed to be saving those?”
“How else will you remember all the things I say?”
“Do you think I forget?”
“Sweetheart, What Would Charlie White Do?”
“I don’t know, but it probably involves a few restraining orders.”
Well, maybe she is getting better at sarcasm.
Mombo
1. You have to think your mother was put on earth to embarrass you and/or always interfere with your life.
2. You have to be able to recognize all the nuances of greatness reflected in the form of Charlie White.
In my daughter’s case, the two merge into one.
In her defense, I did tell her at Nationals that I would not “ruin her life” by “continually holding her up to ridicule by my constant chit-chat about all things Charlie White,” but I think we all know that deals brokered at Nationals are null and void when the plane lands at the home airport. As the song goes, “it’s a new dawn and a new day.”
And truthfully, if I had ever really intended to embarrass my daughter and her former roommate I would have mentioned their “Charlie White” pins and t-shirts that they wore on “Hair Tuesdays,” but I am not that kind of mother.
So, while the rest of the world followed the dribbling basketball, those of us attracted to sequins and tights waited anxiously for whatever tidbits ESPN offered us each night from Worlds. In the annual ritual of pizza, salad, and free dance, my daughter and friends watched breathlessly as the clock ticked to the anointed minutes dedicated to Ice Dancing.
With it came the montage of skating highlights that featured Charlie and Meryl performing at what looked like eight years of age. This, of course, tugs at a mother’s heart and launches a renewed conversation by the younger set of the “10 things to love about Charlie White.”
I may have things out of order, but as I recall, the main items on the list were:
* his twizzles: they are faster and cleaner than any other in the world.
* his smile: it is so genuine that he could never utter a bad pick-up line, or ridicule his partner if she missed a step or two in an early morning practice. He would probably even offer an encouraging comment about a bad hair day like, “I think My Little Pony was so inspirational for young girls.”
* his dedication: he obviously works hard on his craft and stays focused. He probably leaves Meryl little notes at the end or beginning of each day that say, “Let’s do four run-throughs and then take a few minutes to privately meditate on our performances and visualize our mistakes with corrections.”
I have to admit, the conversations trailed off a bit when the girls saw me taking notes.
“Mom, you aren’t going to write about this! You promised! Because of you, I can never talk to Charlie White, and I can hardly look him in the eye without feeling the need to apologize.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m sure he is used to girls swooning when he walks by.”
“We aren’t swooning, exactly, we just think he’s a good skater. It is embarrassing when you write about him. I know he thinks it’s weird.”
“I am the voice of the people. Do you mean he reads Mombo? I can’t believe…”
“Mom, I’m sure he gets up early on Mondays and keeps hitting the refresh button until the new one is posted. No, silly, but I’m sure people tell him about it. Evan would never be able to pass up an opportunity like that.”
“You mean Evan reads Mombo?”
“Stop, you’re such a freak.”
(They really need to teach the nuances of sarcasm in school. The kids are almost mastering it, but then they lose the dénouement of the moment.)
“I’m just wrapping up what you girls are always saying. Charlie is a role model for skating and the youth of today. He is the opposite of Dante’s levels of Hell, for he possesses the seven layers of goodness.”
Four mouths drop open a little at this. (Two have brownie crumbs on the lower lip). I sigh because I know I start to lose them when I bring in literary allusions.
“You know, for a fund raiser, we could make those little plastic bracelets that so many groups have put out -- blue WWCWD bracelets -- to remind all skaters to twizzle hearty and keep on pushing through the pain.
My daughter collapses onto the ottoman, holding her head in her hands. (I seriously worry that marketing is not the right major for her if she fails to see the vision and likelihood of success for this project.)
“Mom, I’m begging you. I’m sure Charlie would beg you -- if he would ever talk to any of us ever again -- in fact, I’m pretty sure he would give anything not to ever be mentioned on a bracelet of any kind.”
“Really? Do you think he would autograph the purple and pink backpack they gave them at Worlds and send it to you to store my old Mombo columns in?”
“Am I supposed to be saving those?”
“How else will you remember all the things I say?”
“Do you think I forget?”
“Sweetheart, What Would Charlie White Do?”
“I don’t know, but it probably involves a few restraining orders.”
Well, maybe she is getting better at sarcasm.
Mombo
posted by IDC Staff @ 9:33 AM
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