December, 1961
I am a senior at our high school basketball game
I am watching the cheerleaders
I feel a strong yearning to be with them
This yearning is not new
Ever since freshman year, intuition, which
Is attempting to guide me to free my deepest self, has
Drawn me to be with them
This calling had been mine For more than four years
Why?
Because I was a cheerleader in junior high
I'd tried out and felt elated to find myself
One of the select few numbered amongst 'the chosen'
And if that was true of me, then, then why do I
Take such a passive role, now?
I believe 'why?' to be a most important question, especially
When self actualization proves to be an illusive goal ...
As in 'why me?' Or 'why not?'
Fall of 1958
It is the first time our school has ever selected cheerleaders
Everyone in eighth grade is all a twitter, and lots of girls try out
I remember my elation when, standing before the bulletin board
In the hall, my eyes land on my name listed amongst 'the chosen'
My spirit flies home on cloud nine; I can't wait to tell my parents of
My good fortune—Wow! A cheerleader! Me!!!!
During every practice session, my spirit cheers with
The utmost of enthusiasm
My leaps and jumps are as high as my smile is wide
I have arrived at a place where my spirit thrives—and
All is well until the day when
We cheer at our first junior high game, where
All eight of us are embarrassed for this reason:
Though every other school has sanctioned
Thigh-high pleated skirts, that is not true of our junior high
We have to wear Bermuda shorts thus
Insuring that modesty prevails ... Geez Louise!
Then, embarrassment goes from
Bad to worse, at least that's true for me:
I'd been selected for the cheer squad after my
Disastrous first kiss had taken place in the alley with Joseph—
So though the girls, who make up the cheer squad, have
Fully embraced me into their sisterhood that's not true of
The less popular boys, whose low self esteem
Follows whatever dictate has been sanctioned by
The leader of the team—namely—Joseph …
So, it's our first game
And I'm happily engaged in cheering until
We decide to do one particular cheer—
During this cheer, each boy on the team is named by
A cheerleader, who steps in front of the line for a brief solo
The name assigned to me is Brent
My solo goes like this:
Brent, Brent, he's our man, if he can't do it, no one can!
When it's my turn to step out in front of the cheer line
My spirit sings out with my solo:
Brent, Brent, he's our man, if he can't do it, no one can!
I catch Brent's eye and toss him a sparkling smile
In return, Brent glances at Joseph, who is glaring at me, and
Next thing I know, Brent, taking his cue from Joseph
Glares at me, too
At thirteen, it does not occur to me that being one of
The less popular boys makes a follower of Brent
At thirteen, what do I know of girls and guys, who
Harbor issues with low self esteem?
So, just as fast as that double glare pierces my heart, twice
My spirit deflates—and for the rest of the year—
I fear naming any boy when it's time for
My solo during that cheer … and the piercing weight of
That fear is empowered to deflate my spirit, game after game
Now that fear of backlash born of Joseph's wrath
Has created inner conflict within my mind
My spirit isn't into cheering as had once been true
So, as eighth grade graduation nears
I am quiet whenever
The rest of the cheer squad chatters, animatedly, about
Trying out for the frosh squad when we get to high school …
Though more than anything, my heart wants to go for it
My self confidence has been shot down by fear of rejection—
Not rejection from making the squad—rejection from the guys
And thus does my battle with inner conflict cause
My spirit to deflate too much to take me to
The gym on the day when try outs are scheduled to take place, so
Throughout the next four years—while yearning to be
An active participant, I am blind to this fact:
Reality suggests that my lack of courage is born of
A negative attitude, and since I have benched myself after
Deeming myself unworthy of participating, joyfully
I can be seen on the sidelines in the stands, year after year
December 1961
I am a senior in high school
Standing just behind the sidelines of the basketball court
It is half time
I am watching the senior cheer squad, which
Includes one girl, Julie, from my junior high squad
While they are leaping, chanting and rousing the crowd
I am lost in my thoughts when another classmate from
Junior high, Susie, approaches me with a guy, who
Has asked to meet me—
It's the guy who is a college sophomore …
So, what, you may ask, is a college man
Doing at a high school game?
And, what does he want with me?
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