Note To Connie

At my high school class reunion last weekend, I was approached by a former classmate, Connie, telling me she had a bet with her sister that I had been Miss New Jersey. Her sister bet her an expensive dinner out that I was not. Sister wins, I was 3rd runner up. I felt I disappointed Connie, so I may as well disappoint a few more people.


Helen Garr, an upperclassman, majorette and Miss Atlantic County was my idol. I wanted to be just like her so I joined her sorority, became a majorette and wanted to win Miss Atlantic County. It was all about winning for me. The actual being……not so much. For about a week afterwards I was like Mel Brooks. “It’s great to be the queen.”


Once I realized I’d have to follow through with public appearances, the bloom was off the rose. I was still at Trenton State at the time, so I’d have to drive all the way back to South Jersey, probably missing some great weekend party, doll myself up & be some place I didn’t want to be. I’m essentially a lazy person. I’ll work hard when I have to but I never stand when I can sit and I never sit when I can lie down. Neither do I like being told what to do and where to be. But for a year they were the boss of me. Hated it. Parades were the exception. It’s really fun to be in a parade & I still tear up when I hear a marching band.


By the time the Miss New Jersey pageant rolled around, I knew I didn’t want to actually be the queen, but I did want to win the title and so I gave it my best effort. I felt pretty good about being 3rd runner up, even if I did despise the bitch who won. My actually winning could have been a tad problematic because unbeknownst to me I was a teensy weensy itsy bit pregnant.