Pat Boone and Joyce

Music...
It was about the only thing I could come up with.
Who would ever pay attention to a short, chubby boy with glasses, thick glasses...with absolutely no athletic ability...and very little brain.
I wasn't stupid, but nobody knew that...not even me.
What I was, at the time, was amazingly awkward and unconditionally sloppy, and I wanted someone to think that there was more. I wanted that badly.
Music seemed to offer hope.
In the musicals I watched and loved, there was a moment when everything would suddenly fall into place for a musician or singer....a person who had formerly been a hopeless nobody....and then all of a sudden......
BANG! Life would be suddenly good for a gifted nobody....
Hold on to something....ok? I wanted to be Pat Boone...."Love Letters in the Sand"..."April Love"....
Pat Boone!
The man was everything I wanted to be....cool, neat, suave, witty.... And it seemed that he had to fight the girls off with a stick.... The nice T-Bird he drove in one of his movies certainly didn't hurt.
In my pre-teen years there was a lot of distance between what I was and Pat Boone.
But to get the ball rolling, I began to practice his songs....over and over again. I even practiced whistling the bridge just like he did on "Love Letters in the Sand".
I was also drawn to Little Richard and Buddy Holly.... But Pat Boone was my main focus.
At the time, upper elementary, I stalked Joyce Stein.... Joyce was perfect....
I would watch her come into class on cold mornings...watch as she took off her coat...
It was like seeing a Christmas present opening itself up....the ribbons in her long, red hair....the wool scarf....and amazing dresses and jumpers....
On warmer days, she would wear a sweater over her shoulders, and it never slipped off. It magically stayed perfectly placed all day.
How did that happen? Did girls like Joyce take lessons in being perfect?
Somebody, probably her mother, put a lot of time into Joyce. There was a grace and elegance about this kid that I was not ready to deal with.
And she was smart! Joyce and my friend, Bubba, were always in competition with one another over grades.
I wasn't.... I was lucky if Mrs. Keith even handled my messy work.
At home, I would perform for my mother, and anyone else who would listen....seriously perform. And I would get my feelings hurt if I even got a hint that they were holding back a laugh. I wanted them to be as serious as I was about this thing.
Something big could come of this....like I might get on the Amateur Hour...or Lawrence Welk...
Who knew? Joyce Stein might notice me...smile at me...give some sign that she knew I was alive.
After school, I would walk down Boudreaux Street....casually following Joyce....singing....
"April love is for the very young. Every star's a wishing star that shines for you....".
Or...
"On a day like today, we passed the time away, writing love letters in the sand....".
Up to Magazine Street, doing my best Pat Boone....and she never turned around....not once....
I found out that she attended the Valance Street Baptist Church on Magazine, and I tried to imagine what she looked like on Sunday morning....
I did get to hold her hand once in fifth grade... They brought us down to the basement of the school to do square dancing.
Boys and girls alike made faces and gruesome sounds signaling how this was a fate worse than death.
Actually, I think we were very excited....
I remember Mrs. Keith trying to get us calmed down and civilized...and I remember Joyce in a wonderful green plaid dress.
As we began to dance,it shocked me how cold Joyce's hands were.
Joyce Stein was supposed to have warm hands...and she was supposed to smile warmly....and that didn't happen either....and her blue eyes were cold....
This would have never happened to Pat Boone.
The music never left me, but I think I realized that my music would never warm Joyce up.
And all I wanted was a smile....but that, I guess, was a lot to ask from a preteen girl who officially hated boys....especially boys who were a hopeless mess like me.
There was other music that would enter my life....but it came later and harder.
Perfection is not all it's cracked up to be.....