Wizard of Oz...to me is the best movie of all times.
I am just going to let that statement just hang there all by itself. Because, in my life there is so many things that I just seem to refer it to. One such character in my life....way back when I had to walk to school, up hill, both ways...in the snow, mind you....oh and lets not forget barefoot. Lol. I just had to say it, cause my father always said that.
Now, the person I refer to way back then. If she was in the play of the 'Wizard of Oz'....she would most definitely fit the image of the Wicked Witch of the West. So....let me see if I can grasp her image in words.
First off, she is skinny....not like a toothpick....but maybe like a bamboo reed...but not tall....but of some imaginary height that in youth made her look like she was 7 feet tall. Her hair.....a dull red chilly pepper color...all tied up tightly into a cinnabon bun. Not a strand out of place, due to the sch-lack of Aqua Net that kept it all in check. Her face was narrow and a pasty white color....which always led me to believe she was one of the first zombies I saw in my life. Her beady little eyes were directly hidden behind a thin narrow, magnified pair of glasses. That of course slid down her nose when she looked down at you. A long thin narrow nose that seem to be hooked into a downward position to hide her boogers from you. *Lol...sorry had to add that...cause it was true.* Her lips thin, pursed and with crackled edges that were from her always over frowning, which, I am pretty sure her lips were always in that position. She always had on a bright shade of red lipstick that always looked orange in the sunlight.
She always seem to wear high collared blouses that had a bow effect to cinch off her scrawny little neck. Followed by a narrow skirt that went below the knee. Back then and where I lived at that time, well, lets just call it the 'Bible Belt of America'. *sorry had to use this cliche, but it was the truth* Of course....she put on nylons...heaven forbid if she didn't....we might of realized how hairy the beasty legs were! Oh, let not forget the shoes....comfortable, with a bit of a lift to them...but yet when she would walk across the wooden floor....you knew exactly who was coming.
Now...that you have the Wicked Witch image in your head....now for the name to set it off. I am pretty sure she has left this world, so I feel safe to mention her name. Wait for it....wait for it.....Mrs. McKinney...there! Lol, does that not befit a Wicked Witch?
Now, I was in my tenth year of the educational process that plagues the youth to this time still. Mrs. McKinney was unfortunately the draw of the lottery process of English classes that a sophomore had to take. And unfortunately, I drew the short straw and had to be in this Gingerbread House of a classroom with her. She was known as a battle axe...I should know...lol...I flunked her class with a glamorous 'F'!
I loved to write....wrote a lot of poetry before I had been in the Iron Maiden's classroom. I felt I was pretty good....but knew I needed a lot of discipline in the art of the pen. It was a requirement for all High School students to have 4 units in English to graduate. So, reluctantly, I was herded into her world of torture to obtain that unit.
There was many things that she did....the worst was just listening to her read to us....I do recall 'Of Mice or Men', but if it wasn't for the movie...I would never remember what the story was about. She had a nasally kind of tone for a voice that had a whiff of chalk board screeching if I do recall. *shutters, yep that was the one* I would never raised my hand. But she always found time to include me in on the days list of tortures. *personally, I think I was always at the top of that list.....'To do Today....1. Torture Janette. Make her squirm. Belittle her. And most of all lash her with your lizard like tongue, because, she adores it'*
But, where she would wound me the deepest was when she would have us write. Now remember, I loved to write. She would assign an essay of the day. While we wrote...not a sound of paper could be heard dropping to the floor. But the charcoal scratching could be heard. Then, we would hand in our essay and write the days notes in our 3 foot binders that held stuff that we would never use again and she would sit at her throne and read our essays. Also with her broom....I mean her red bleeding pen she would circle, scratch, and etch our grades at the top of our pages.
To no avail, once the cramping in our hands started to subside, she would read some of the best and some of the worst essays to all 30 of us absorbing minds. Best...not bad. Could use some rewording, but pretty good. She gave the praise to the student and offered the slight changes with her satisfactory grin. But, on to the worst....ugh....she picked my for the umptenth time. After every sentence and punctuation....critic. Bad...awful....bad use of punctuation....don't understand the main idea....and on and on she would go....with her raking painful voice that would just make my ears bleed. I would try so hard to become a speck of dirt that fell into a creavous of the wooden floor below me...curl up shoes and all like the 'Wicked Witch of the East's' feet did in the movie or become one with my hard wooden chair I sat in.
It was during one of those constructive critiques, that she announced to the class: "Miss Reed...as you can hear...this essay....well, with all your works Miss Reed...you will never be able to be a functioning member of the writing world. You have no talent for it. So, in my personal opinion....I would suggest that you, Miss Reed *she always would try to make me feel important before smashing my heartfelt words, so she would address me as such, to this day...I still hear her call me that.*....think more of a maternal job in your near future."
WHAM...BAM....and thank you Mrs. McKinney! She should of said, "Miss Reed, at your age, you should be barefoot and pregnant!" If she had said that...I probably would of done what I did to my Uncles when they made that same statement to me. I chucked a beer bottle at one hit him, knocked him to the floor and was elated to watch my other two Uncles scramble out the door or jump out the window. *Lol...I still giggle at watching them scramble as my Grandmother told me: 'Good girl, they deserved that!' It was then my first of many evil grins that would grace my face...lol*
So, with just those words....I never wrote again. I bought into it...hook line and sinker.
It wasn't until I was in my mid thirties that I finally was convinced by a friend to write. She found out that I was full of images that I could put to the page. She was astounded by my brilliant use of words. I wrote for the first time in decades. We wrote together, had a good following with the story we developed. But, with time, I stepped away from it. Don't understand why....but I did.
Whose going to stop me now? Unless, we have the 'Zombie Apocalypse', I
highly doubt Mrs. McKinney, would make her way to me to just eat my
brains, like she did so many decades ago. Lol.....I shudder at the
thought of that woman doing it....just her voice alone would stop me in
my tracks and drop dead.....lol....ah the days of high school....
So fast forward about 10 years, I decided to finally put my life into words again. So, to all of you Mrs. McKinney's, aka Wicked Witches of the West, I stick my tongue out at you....wiggle my bare lily white arse at you! And to top it off...."Nanner Nanner!"