Writing by Candlelight

Dorothy's Blog

Becoming Bold

I used to be bold when I was younger, almost too bold. I remember the time my mother took me to a neighbor girl, Irene’s, birthday party. Irene just happened to have the same birthday as I did. She lived up the street fromBirthday Cake us and was eight years old; I was about five at the time. It was a great party with loads of presents.  Irene had a fabulous time opening ALL of those presents.  I kept waiting for it to be my turn. Surely some of those presents had to be for me. It was my birthday too. But Irene opened all the presents and soon the party was over,  and it was time to go home.

Except………

It was MY birthday too and I didn’t get any presents. It was not fair. According to my totally embarrassed mother, I stamped my feet and would not leave the party until I got my present. The more she insisted we go, the more I cried and yelled. Finally, Irene took pity on me and gave me one of her presents. My mother just grabbed me and pulled me right out the door. When we got home, she was so humiliated by my boldness; she couldn’t stop hollering at me for three days straight.

Then there was the time when I was a teen and I sent my name into Digg Magazine (one for teens) to get some pen pals. I saw my picture and letter posted in the magazine and waited and waited for some replies. When I didn’t get any,  I was disappointed and figured no one wanted to be my pen-pal.

About a month later, when I came home from school one day, my mother met me at the door with a stack of letters in her hands. I knew what they were the minute I saw her.  “Who are all there letters from? What is going on here?” she said red-faced and nervous. By the way, I never told her I sent my name into the magazine. Anyway, she had been taking them out of the mailbox before I got home and putting them in one of her dresser drawers and wouldn’t give them to me until I told her what it was all about.

I only ended up writing to a couple of the respondents. There were a few quacks in there but in those days, you didn’t have to worry about that.

One more boldness……My mother took me to the dentist to have a tooth pulled when I was about 7. We got there and the dentist said he had to give me a Novocain shot to numb the area before he pulled it. So he sat me in the chair and proceeded to give me the shot. It hurt so much, I screamed and hollered and clamped my mouth shut. The dentist was furious and told my mother to take that kid home, and don’t ever bring her back here again. Needless to say, I never did get that tooth pulled.

Now that was BOLD, don’t you think, or was it really being a BRAT?….a SPOILED BRAT?

FOurtune Favors The BOld

I am trying to get more of that boldness back, not the spoiled-brat kind, but just doing some of those things I have the impulse to do. I’m getting better at it. Actually pitching my books out to everyone I know helped. But I still want to follow my heart more in other things that I talk myself out of doing at times. ­­Three cheers for boldness!

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