LONG BROWN STOCKINGS AND MARCH MADNESS

Patti has mentioned long brown stockings in her comments a couple of times so I will tell you about them. My March Madness has nothing to do with Basketball but I have had my own March Madness which I will share.

When I was a child, and even into my teens, women and girls did not wear pants/slacks. We always wore dresses. Let me amend that—when women had to go to work in the factories during World War II, they did wear slacks and thanks to Katherine Hepburn, pants/slacks steadily became more and more popular. (For those of you who are too young to know who Katherine Hepburn was---she was a movie actress who won about four “Oscars” and many other acting awards. She was a real trend setter. She didn’t like to be confined to dresses all the time and she really made pants/slacks popular. Thank heaven for women, here and there, who believed that women could become whatever they wanted.) After the war was over and the women no longer needed to work in the factories, they were expected to put on dresses, go back to their homes and forget that the pants/slacks era had ever happened. Somehow, that didn’t set well with the woman who had worked in the factories. They liked receiving checks that were theirs to spend as they needed and they didn’t have to ask “hubby” for permission. They also found they liked wearing pants because they were so comfortable so they were quite willing to follow the trend Katherine Hepburn had set. For some men, that was a hard pill to swallow.

I always wore dresses to school. Wearing dresses was expected. Girls also wore “bobby sox” (anklets), except in the winter. (Pants would have been an easy answer but it was too soon for pants to be accepted.) When it got cold, the Elementary School girls wore long stockings. My mother made a kind of “harness” (for lack of a better word) to wear under my clothes to hold up my stockings. We didn’t have panty hose---just stockings. Some of the girls wore some kind of elastic around the top of their stockings to hold them up but my mom didn’t think that was healthy. I wish I could draw you a picture of what the harness looked like but with my limited ability at that sort of thing, you’ll just have to envision what it looked like. It hung from my shoulders and had horizontal connecting pieces on the front, back and sides so it wouldn’t fall off my shoulders. Also, there were connecting pieces around my waist to keep it in place. Straps hung from those pieces with hooks to hold up the stockings. (Can you picture it?) My mother insisted that I start wearing long stockings by the end of September and I couldn’t quit wearing them until May. I hated those long stockings. They were ugly. They were made of thick cotton knit and after I bent my knees a few times they bagged at the knees. Ugly, ugly, ugly! The stockings were a beige color. Mom always bought a package of three pairs of stockings. Three pairs were supposed to last the school year. Remember, when we did the laundry we had to heat the water, etc., etc. So we either had to wash the stockings by hand, or just simply wear them several times. When I was in Elementary School, I generally opted to wear them several times between washings.

If I wore holes in the stockings, I was required to “darn” or “patch” the holes. My mother could darn socks beautifully. She tried to teach me but I was never good at it so I usually ended up sewing a patch over the holes. I didn’t make very pretty patches either, so by Springtime, my stockings were really terrible to look at. By Spring, I always hoped I could stop wearing them. No such luck! Mom had her own ideas of what was proper attire for little girls, so every day I had to wear those ugly stockings. In March, some of the other girls were wearing “bobby sox.” I wanted to be one of them. Since my mom wouldn’t let me be one of them, every day I put the long stockings on before I left the house and I’d walk to school. The street from our house to the school had a slight rise in the first block and then it sloped down the second block to the school. As soon as I was over the rise and on the down side and I knew my mom couldn’t see me, I unfastened those stockings and rolled them down. That was not very pretty, either, but there were other girls whose mothers made them wear long stockings and they rolled theirs down, too, so we had a style of our own. It was an unsightly fashion statement but it worked for us. Of course, before we went home for lunch or after school, we had to roll them back up.

By the time we were in sixth grade, most of the girls wore anklets all winter. Yes, bare legs get cold, but who notices cold when “fashion” is the issue. There were only about four of us who had moms who made us wear long stockings. I was probably warmer than some of the others but I was so timid and shy that anything that set me apart from the others was almost more than my mind and spirit could bear. I had warm legs and zero self-confidence. Naturally, those of us who were still forced to wear long stockings had to endure the teasing from others whose mothers cared more about fashion than good sense. By April, I was the only one still wearing long stockings. I was the only one still rolling down the stockings each morning after leaving home and rolling them back up before going home. I was lucky that my brothers didn’t tattle on me, but I’m sure they had their own issues on their minds. Finally, when May came around, mom allowed me to wear anklets. Pants/slacks would have saved me from all the humiliation of long stockings. Also, pants/slacks would have been much more modest. We didn’t have monkey bars, slides or swings at our school, but we did a lot of cart wheels, jumping, running and hop scotch playing. Fortunately our underpants covered us very well (no thongs in those days) but it would have been more modest to wear pants.

This is not the end of the story. After we had graduated from sixth grade and were going into seventh grade at the High School I was absolutely certain that my mom would not make me wear long stockings all winter. But, she did. The stockings were different, however. Now, instead of the beige cotton knit, she got me a pair of “grown up” stockings. They were made of rayon and they were brown. Nylon hosiery had become available but nylons got “runs” in them quite easily and we certainly couldn’t afford to buy pair after pair to get me through the school year. Rayon was considerably more durable but not as durable as the cotton had been. A lot of older women still wore rayon hosiery and had not made the switch to nylon. I guess what I’m saying is that the rayon stockings were for “old ladies” and me. And, yes, I only had one pair. I had to wash them every night and hang them near the stove so they’d be dry by morning. They were ugly. Mom had also bought me a garter belt to hold them up. In seventh grade we had to dress for P.E. and shower afterward. I hated that garter belt and the long stockings. It was very embarrassing.

There was a kid a year older than I who was a real jerk. His name is George Redd. He seemed to think he was something special because he descended from the “hole-in-the-rockers” (more about that later) and he was mean. Perhaps cruel is a better word. He always ridiculed me and my long stockings. Every time he saw me he would say, “Well, there’s Marilyn in her fancy nylon stockings.”

I should tell you here that there was one other girl who wore long rayon stockings in seventh and eighth grades. Her name is Klea Black. She had contracted Polio about four or five years earlier and she had survived. She had a mild disability as a result of the Polio and her mother was somewhat protective of her. Klea had missed an entire year of school while she recovered from Polio. She was a year ahead of me before she got sick but she came to our class after she was well. She was a very nice person and we enjoyed having her in our class. Somehow, George Redd had the decency not to “pick on” Klea. I had no reason to wear the ugly long, brown stockings other than that my mother insisted I wear them. I really disliked George Redd. He was always with a “pack” of like-minded boys. When he ridiculed my stockings all his buddies would snicker.

Finally, by ninth grade, my mom relented and let me wear anklets to school. Yes, I had cold legs but cold legs were easier to endure than the ridicule that came with my ugly, long brown stockings.

There is an upside to all of this. I think wearing those ugly, long stockings made me determined to “be somebody.” I wanted to excel at school and participate in the extra-curricular activities, as well. I don’t recall George Redd ever doing anything noteworthy that set him apart from the crowd or that made him stand out in a positive way. He always “stood out” as a bully. I, on the other hand, accomplished many things in many areas during my school years that have benefited me throughout my life. I’m sure I’ll get around to telling you about those experiences. I guess the most important benefit was that I began to overcome my extreme shyness because of my accomplishments. Perhaps the ugly, long brown stockings helped me get past the unimportant aspects of living and move on with determination.

Now, for March Madness.

I think I have mentioned that I have two callings in the Loa Ward. I play the piano for the Senior Primary and also for the Ward Choir. Occasionally, I get a bonus and play the organ for Sacrament Meeting when the Ward Organist is going to be out of town.

Around the first of February, the Ward Choir Director told me that the Ward Choir would be performing three numbers for the Easter Program. She had picked out an arrangement of: “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today” and “I Heard Him Come.” She asked if I had any suggestions for the third one and mentioned she’d like it to be something easy. I did have a suggestion: “Easter Morn.” It is a song that was in the old Deseret Sunday School Song Book. That’s the song book we used at Church when I was a child. That song book has not been used for over 50 years and the song I mentioned is not in the song book that followed the Deseret Sunday School Song Book, nor any others that have followed since that time, yet, it is a very beautiful and meaningful song, in my opinion. I played it for her and she loved it. It is a duet for women’s voices. We began practicing those three numbers, plus what we were preparing for the third Sunday in February. “Easter Morn” was easy for me; “I Heard Him Come” was doable; “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today” was more of a challenge but was also doable. Everything was great---and then the choir director called and said the Bishop had just informed her that Ward Conference was scheduled for March 9th and he wanted the choir to provide a number. She opted to do something familiar from the Hymn Book which was okay with me. We practiced, “Be Still My Soul.” Okay, so that is all fine and dandy!

Then the Stake Choir Director called me and told me Stake Conference was scheduled for March 16th and the Stake Choir was to perform two numbers at Stake Conference and would I please accompany the Stake Choir on the organ? I thought, “Here is a nice little challenge---why not?” So I agreed to play. She brought me the arrangement she had chosen for one number: “Home Can Be A Heaven On Earth.” The second number would be: “He Is Risen” from the Hymn Book. The Stake President had requested that the Choir sing the first two verses and have the congregation join in on the third verse. “And,” she said, “You will also be expected to play the prelude and postlude music plus two congregation hymns.” Unfortunately, no matter how many years I play the organ and piano, and no matter how well I know the numbers, I still feel very much in need of practice before I “perform.” If a 12-year old plays something and makes a mistake, no one pays much attention. Perhaps that is true of a 74-year old, as well, but in my own mind, it is important that I play well. I cannot imagine Horowitz (who has passed away) playing a piano concert without practice or any other professional, for that matter. True, I am still an amateur, but I try to play perfectly.

I certainly had enough on my plate to keep me out of mischief. Playing the organ for a choir is a whole different animal than playing for a congregation. I played a medley of hymn arrangements for the prelude before Stake Conference and I opted to play “Londonderry Air” for postlude. Here was my reasoning: It was the day before St. Patrick’s Day so Irish seemed appropriate to me AND I knew that “Londonderry Air” or “O, Danny Boy,” if you prefer, was a favorite of President Hinckley. I figured I’d take a chance to play it because it is a favorite of mine, as well. The reason I said: “I’d take a chance,” is because, in this Stake, people generally just play hymns for postlude. Apparently there were others in the congregation who like that particular piece because I had a number of compliments and no one came to tell me to stop.

The organ in the Loa Ward Chapel is different than any I have ever played so every time I play it is a new experience. I felt the need to do a good bit of practicing at the Chapel so I could feel comfortable with the organ. It will be the same if I’m ever asked to play again. It takes time to learn a new instrument and I can’t go over there to practice every day. I should but I can’t.

Tal and Juli were at Stake Conference and said the organ sounded good. I appreciate their compliments and comments. Also, the Stake President came over to the organ and complimented me. I guess it was okay.

Stake Conference was over but there were still three numbers to be performed on Easter. Fortunately, they were on the piano and they went well. I appreciate the talents I have been given and I appreciate the opportunity to serve the Lord by using by talents. I do not take my callings lightly and I grow in ability every time I play. I am so grateful that my Dad insisted I “learn to play the hymns” when I took piano lessons. Music is something you take with you through life and in our Church, there is always opportunity to use that talent. I am blessed to still be able to play. Practicing keeps my mind alert and my fingers agile. It is also good for the soul. That’s the story of my March Madness. It was hectic and sometimes very stressful, but now that it’s over I look back on it as being very satisfying.

I love you all.

Happy Birthday to Dusty on April 8th