Friday, April 25, 2008



He'll Always Be Seven to me...

I was born with the face I have now.

My mother suffers from the same type of face. If you knew her in kindergarten chances are you would recognize her today.Life with all its forces have not altered the 'look' of my mother, no matter the course of her life, her face remains the same. My mother's face, though more weathered, is still that of primary school, I have the same scourge.

My siblings, as my father, do not face the same woe, their faces have altered through the years, their faces, somehow through time, their faces have evolved, have transformed, their childhood pictures, do not seem to reflect the people they metamorphized into today...They have grown into their faces, through time, and one would truly have to pause and search their refined features to recognize them from their gawky days of childhood and teen years.

I guess the best way to illustrate this would be through the Beatles. Bare with me in this illustration...

John, Paul and George, changed through the years, their young faces from the fifties, with their greased back hair, changed with the Beatle hair cuts, and slowly altered even still in the seventies and one would have to take pause, when identifying the three from their past unto the seventies...

But not with Ringo... No matter what the era, no matter what the 'look' of the day was, Ringo looked; as Ringo does today. There would be no problem pointing out with certainty Mr. Ringo Starr.

I have the face of Ringo. Time tested and true. You can always spot Ringo no matter how much he ages, just as you could spot me.

A plight that some of us have to face, but I suppose there could be worse.

Of course, this face is going to take you on a wee bit of a journey.

I will brings you along with me as I venture onto the subway. A day like any other...

I am riding along the subway emersed in my wonderful, inner world with a conversation of things 'to do' swirling in my head when a gorgeous man strides onto the train. He has shoulder length, dirty blond, wavy hair, he is wearing great fitting jeans with a funky weathered belt, washboard stomach and these fantastic biker boots along with a knap sack slunk over to one shoulder. He is relaxed and calm with himself and the course of his day. He has a truly charming smile. He smiles as he sits across from me. I smile back and go back to my inner world with the aid of reading the advertisements above the gentleman's head.

And when I look down again, I notice that he is still smiling at me.

A sheepish smile, but a smile nonetheless.

I smile back, and lower my eyes to show my embarrassment for the attention.

And then he stands and meanders across the train and stops in front of me.

I look at the great boots and slowly scan up, pass the belt, the washboard stomach, pass the pecs,pass the cool necklace, and stop at the friendly smiling face.

'Excuse me, but are you Pendullum Dribblingwitt?'

'Yeeess?' I reply. I answer more in the vein of a question, as I have no idea how, this gorgeous Adonis, would know my name.

And then he pauses with my answer. And looks at me with hopeful eyes, a glimmer of familiarity floats through their sparkle.

He repeats my name again with conviction, 'Pendullum Dribblingwitt... Well, I'll be....'

Now, I am getting a tad embarrassed and uncomfortable with the fact that this man knows me, and I have not a clue who he is, and I am also aware that everyone on the subway is watching our drama unfold as this man certainly controls the car by his very presence.

'Pendullum, It's me, Alan Rubinchko.'

'Alan Rubinchko?' I repeat looking for clarification through saying the name again. Slowly, carefully, annunciating each syllable of his name, hoping to find him, and our connection through the pronunciation and projection of his name. And through this dance, I am buying my memory; time. Time to mingle with my brain and find Alan Rubinchko in the dusty, webbed-corridors of my cluttered mind.

He, at least is gallant enough to see that his name, even with the greatest of concentration on each syllable is not bringing any kind of connection to me.

He is not unnerved by the vacant smile before him. He decides upon sitting beside me, so, he can give me eye contact and maybe through the persuasion of his eyes I may be transfixed to a memory as he clearly remembers me.

He settles beside me and says ' I sat behind you, Mrs. May's class.'
'Mrs. May's class... That was when? '
'Grade Two'
'GRADE TWO?'
'Yeah, Grade two'

Okay, my memory and my brain can work with that....But boy, that was a lifetime ago... And boy this will take a great deal of needling between the memory and the ole brain...

They converse and then...

Magically, I am teleported back, I can see the classroom, the dimly lit classroom, the beautiful penmenship of Mrs. May on the board, the children working quietly, I am being poked from behind, and the boy behind me is drawing attention to his latest project, he is tossing his pencil up into the air to have it join the half a dozen other pencils he has stuck to the ceiling, I can see Mrs. May surveying her class, I can hear her shrill scream, I can hear her fury....

ALAN RUBINCHKO!!!! COME HERE!

And then it all truly comes back. Alan Rubinchko with the thick, thick glasses, Alan Rubinchko with the black and beige pocket protector in his white oxford shirt. Alan Rubinchko with the spindly body which carried baggy flood pants sinched together with a thin black belt, black socks and white adias running shoes. Alan Rubinchko always laughing and finding new projects in tormenting Mrs. May. Alan Rubinchko always at the front of the class for some mischief he had gotten himself into. Alan Rubinchko always finding some kind of delight spontaneous commotion, much to Mrs. May's dissatisfaction and all of our delight.

And here was an Adonis before me, certainly not a spindly body, and not a pocket protector or coke bottle glasses in sight...

I scramble and now repeat his name, with conviction having found the man in the name.'Ah, Alan Rubinchko, it has been a lifetime... Geez hasn't it?'

'Pendullum Dribblingwitt, you have not changed a bit. Not ONE bit!'

Thanks, I guess... Well, Alan, you certainly have.

'Well, yeah, most people change... But Holy Crow, you have not! Geez, I could spot you anywhere....' And his voice cracks as it would when we were kids. And now he can relax, as he is not insane and he does indeed know me, and now the 'work' is in my court.

'So Alan,' I gasp, as this Adonis before me is slowly transforming a mixture of the Adonis but definitive tinges of a wee boy of seven years of age with black socks and floods.

'Alan, well, what are you doing with yourself?'

And with this, he laughs with reassurance. He pulls his shoulders back, regains his amazing posture, looks directly in my eyes and charmingly says with a flirtation twinkle to his eye... 'Well, Pendullum, I am a male stripper now.'

'Ahh... Uhhh??? You're stripping?'

'Yeah, Really, great money... Amazing money in fact. A lot of women like to see men naked.'

'You are a stripper?'

'I guess Mrs. May gave me a taste of what it was like to be always on stage.'

' Yeah, but you were clothed... And detention never had music...A stripper.' I now say with conviction trying to coax my memory, to let go of an image of Alan of the past and of the black socks and wirey legs and knobby ankles.

Somehow Alan with the pocket protector, the thick glasses with black rims, the floods, the black socks and running shoes are now just all before me and my mind's eye. My memory will not let go.

'Yeah.... Pendullum, you should come and see me some time. There's always a line up, but here's my card. This will let you in no prob. and you don't have to pay the cover. I could take you out to dinner or something. Get caught up...'

And with that statement wavering. My stop arrives on cue.

I say my quick good byes, collect my things and exit with his stripper card in hand.

I wave goodbye as the train pulls away.
He smiles and gallantly waves.

And then glance down at his card as the train is out of sight and I am walking up the stairs.

ALAN the Carpenter. Chip N Dales.

And I know I will never use the card.

I will never go and see the Studded Carpenter because to me, to me, he will always be Alan Rubinchko, a young seven year old boy with black socks and a pocket protector....

And I will always be the young girl who sat in front of him.

61 comments:

Lady M said...

That is an *awesome* story.

My face looks the same too, every since I was little, and just like my mother. Mir (WouldaCouldashoulda) and I went to school together when we were in fourth grade, before I moved across the country. After not seeing each other for over twenty years, she recognized me instantly when I happened to sit down at what I thought was a table of strangers at BlogHer.

Mom Ma'am Me said...

Wow, how amazing that he recognized you after all those years.

crazymumma said...

hilarious! you do actually look exactley the same!

The Laundress~JJ! said...

I'll go!!! I'll go!!!

Gimme the card..I'll go!!!

(Come with me?)

Sayre said...

I think my son may have that face too. We were in the grocery store the other day and a vaguely familiar (in an urban hippie sort of way) woman was looking at ZBoy. Finally, she said, "Is that Z?" Turns out she was his preschool teacher when he was three. He is now nine. Kids change a lot in that time, but not my kid!

That is a great coincidence! I'll bet you never reconcile those two Alans. (I wouldn't use the card either...)

Caro said...

That would be kind of odd to go see a childhood friend so um "changed." Hee hee.

slouching mom said...

a great story!

i, like you, haven't changed a BIT since i was a kid. i get recognized all the time, while i stare dumbly back, because so few people DO look the same as they once did.

Beth said...

There's something to be said for retaining the face of childhood. My cheeks are a dead give-away.
And you've got me wondering how all those "geeks" from my old school days turned out. What a glorious transformation Alan made!

Kim Ayres said...

You really do have such a great writing style :)

I tend to think I look completely different, although part of that is hair difference - as a kid my hair always hung down over my eyes, but as an adult it's up off my forehead, and of course the beard changes the shape of my face somewhat too. However, you have access to my Facebook profile, so go an look at my family album where you'll see a pic of me at 16. you can let me know whether I'm reconisable 25 years on :)

urban-urchin said...

i get the same thing- people recognize me from grade 3 and such. Sadly I was a HUGE dork.... that's too funny and uh, awkward?

Kevin Charnas said...

I'LL GO!! I'LL GO!! OOH! OH!! ME! ME!!! ME!!! I'LL USE IT, MISS DRIBBLINGWITT!!! ME!!! PICK ME!!!

OHHH!!! EEEHHHH!!!! MEMEME!!!!


if you don't go, I'm gonna spank your bottom, lady.

Just The Three of Us Ladies said...

Your rock. Alan ROCKS. This whole story rocks! I love this! I am grinning from ear to ear.

Jocelyn said...

And really, if you didn't want to see his penis in second grade, you certainly don't want to see it now.

I LOVE your tales. You've just given heart to any seven year old saddled with terrible glasses and a spindly body. They could grow up to be a *carpenter*.

Catherine said...

What a great story!
I had the same experience not long ago, only it was my fifth grade teacher Ms. Evans who recognized me. At the time, it really embarrassed me the way she called my name from across a busy restaurant and made such a fuss over how I was the EXACT SAME IMAGE of my fifth grade self. I realize now that it's kind of flattering. :)

Virtualsprite said...

Beautiful story... I certainly did not expect the stripper part.

My mom has the Ringo face, too. I'm jealous of her. And you!

lildb said...

your capacity for storytelling is endless, isn't it, Pendullum.

it's also mesmerizing. totally awesome post.

Gina said...

Yes, I think it is better to keep it that way.

Christine said...

oh my. what a titillating little encounter!

now i have to look for some recent photos of yourself on your blog to compare to your picture in this post!

Damselfly said...

Ha ha hysterical! It's not every day a stripper recognizes you and invites you to see his show!

I think I have one of those unchanging looks. Not only that, but I have one of those faces that looks like everyone else's so that lots of people already think they know me because I look like someone they know.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

What an amazing story! I smiled with delight all through it.

You should go to see him dance. You really should. And then come back and tell us about it.

And you are so lucky that you never age. If you could bottle what you have and sell it, you'd be unimaginably rich.

Ruth Dynamite said...

I'm in need of some carpentry work, so you might as well just pass along that pass to me.

(You're a classic, Pendullum. Unforgettable and one of a kind.)

DebbieDoesLife said...

Priceless! You couldn't have made that up because it was too crazy to be make-believe.

kim said...

I loveeee your stories :) I always feel like im right there !

That teacher should know what she did to poor Alan!!

Lisa said...

He went on to become a dancer. That is a great story.

I think he meant that (when he said you haven't changed) in a good way.

At least you know you're not aging as fast as the rest of us! :-)

Lynilu said...

Oh, why not go?? Life is shorter than you think, and never a moment should be wasted!

Jus' sayin'.

:D

mauniejames3 said...

great story...I have a friend like that...she says its wonderful...

Tink said...

What are the chances? :)

You told that so beautifully. I was trapped from the first line.

Deb said...

That is hilarious....I bet you would never have thought that would happen!

Crow said...

I think you made a good decision to not go see him "dance"...from the sounds of it this guy would see you in the crowd and pull you up on stage to have a dance with him! :)

Fantastic story...I laughed out loud when I read what he had "grown up" to be!

Rock the Cradle said...

You know, as yummy as it might be to drool over Alan the Carpenter, the fact that you knew him in second grade puts him in some weird way in the realm of being a brother.

I can't blame you for not wanting to "see" him. Sounds like he'd be great fun to hang out with though.

You'd better share that card with Kevin before he hurts himself. ;D

Kristin said...

I'm the same... you can pick me out of the nursery!

Maria said...

I loved the line that there wasn't even music in detention....

Thank you for stopping by my blog. Nice to meet you.

And I'd go check him out....

Jodi said...

Love it, what a terrific story, do you smile everytime you think about Alan?

I have a face that doesn't change much either. Sadly my body has changed a LOT and not in a good way and that makes me somewhat unrecongizable. However sometimes it's fun to be incognito and run into people when I KNOW them and they have no clue who in the heck I am. Alan probably has that happen to him a lot too. :)

loopymamain06 said...

Pen.....your writing ability, and what you leave your readers "feeling" is what makes me come back time and a gain.
Thank-you
I personally have aged by the spread of great furrows from the gifts of the wrinkle fairys. but such is life.
loopysandqueen

loopymamain06 said...

Thank- you Pen' for writing things that leave me with feeling and awe.
I personally have aged by great gifts from the wrinkle fairys.
loopysandqueen/loopymama of usa

Annie said...

I'll go with JJ! lol!

Amazing story - and beautifully told.

Momo Fali said...

Ah! What fun! You should go! Maybe that image in your mind will be changed by the experience.

Karen said...

My mom and I, too, and my closest high school girlfriends.
My boyfriend, not so much. I can see his face now in his college and high school photos, but it is different. I barely see his now face at all in his baby and childhood pictures.
Two years ago a boy I had a tremendous crush on in junior high got in touch with me. We are in our early thirties now. He had a crush on me then, too. We got together a few times and there was still an attraction.
Every time we hung out I was amazed by the thirteen year old all grown up but almost the same except now with eye creases and balding. It was like I'd stepped into a time-warp.

'cuz I'm the mommy, that's why! said...

I used to think I had one of those faces because people who hadn't seen me in 20 years would recognize me in the store. Now I know it's because I look like my parents did when they were my age (in different ways).
The up side? If your face doesn't change, you'll always look young!

Attila The Mom said...

eeek! I certainly wasn't expecting that! LOL

Amber said...

A male stripper? I did not see that one coming. I was thinking doctor or something. Talk about a STORY!

Even more amazing is he recognized you! My husband Jamie has looked the same since birth. As an adult, he popped back in on a friend's parents he knew when he was five and the recognized him immediately. I'm not sure if that is good or bad. :-)

Momish said...

That's a great story! I know what you mean about how some people change so much and others seem to stay the same at the core. I think I fall in the middle. But you are so right about Ringo! I never thought about that before.

Jodi said...

I was thinking about this post the other night when I couldn't sleep, and i thought what a great plot for a movie...

Enter boy who was picked on in school cuz he was geezy, he falls for beautiful cheerleader type who is mean to him cuz he's nerdy and his heart is broken beyond repair. 20 years go by, the geezy boy turns into a hunka hunka piece of man, sees beautiful cheerleader on train and immediately recgonizes her. She, of course, doesn't recgonize him because he's a Greek God now. They fall in love. Then he breaks HER heart, or possibly murders her, because she broke his heart in high school & now it's time for sweet sweet revenge!

See, what I mean? I took some artistic license with the story, because of course you were beautiful but never mean to Alan and you didn't say he was in love with you, but still what a great movie plot!! :)

Moobs said...

There's one for Ms Manners: What to do when offered a card to an old friend's strip club

Cheesy said...

How fun was that! I think you should raffle off that ticket sweetie... sounds like you have takers!

Eryl Shields said...

That sounds too weird for me!

Lei said...

That is crazy! Wow... I am one of those people that recognizes a face pretty easily. Next time I should say I'm a stripper, just to see what kind of reaction I get. Lol!

The Domesticator said...

My Mom is like you...her face looks exactly the same as when she was a young girl. Folks recognize her no matter where she goes.

Anyway, I really enjoyed your story (as always)

Who would have thought that Alan....nerdy, awkward Alan is now a stripper! You must have gotten quite a kick out of that!

PunditMom said...

Amazing story! You could always have him make an appearance at BlogHer! ;)

Jess Riley said...

WOW. Pendullum, this was a great post. Funny, moving, surprising...I still want to know what happened to some of my old classmates.

dawn224 said...

That's fabulous. Now I'm wondering what some of the 7 year olds from my class look like now :)

hw said...

The ending was not quite what I expected, but hilarious indeed. Ha!

I'm glad to see that someone else has the same problem as I do. I do get recognized a lot by people from my past, only I have a horrible memory and often cannot remember their role in my life as clearly seem to remember mine in theirs. That makes it a tad awkward.

Damselfly said...

Just wanted to say Happy Mother's Day!

sweatpantsmom said...

Gawd, the last person I ran into from my past was a guy from high school, the class jock and stud, who was still working at a hardware store two blocks from the school. Um, sad.

Your story is waaaaay sexier.

Oh, The Joys said...

Adonis the stripper!!

Mamacita Tina said...

This is just too funny! I think I have a face that stays pretty much the same. I keep running into people who know me, and I have no clue who they are. They're usually from Jr. High or grade school.

BeachMama said...

Fantastic. You told this story so well. I think I have a face that doesn't change, but more people recognize Hubby (who really has changed, i.e. no hair) than they do me. Although today, I met someone I worked with 23 years ago, we both recognized each other and it was really fun. She isn't a stripper though, just a blood lab tech ;).

carrie said...

I did not know that strippers had cards!

But honestly, thank you for another wonderful story. You never disappoint. Never.

And I have one of those faces too, no matter how many wrinkles I may think I have, I still look like the girl in the class picture . . .

Mandaroo said...

Such a cute sweet face. I think I probably look very different to those I once knew. Thank you for your sweet comments on my blog. I always look forward to new entries on yours. You tell such great stories and have such a way with words. Looking forward to the next one!

ps I've been back several times and started to comment, then deleted. I always feel so dorky with my comments LOL oh well....

kim said...

I always leave your stories feeling better than I did before.

hautemama said...

I have missed your blog!!
And for the LOVE...go see him peel it off!!

j-hi