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The Envy Monster Bites

Why go back to the 1980s when you can revisit the 1970s?  I wrote this character sketch on my cousin when I was about fifteen-years-old.  She had visited us and spent the summer on our farm when I was around nine or ten and evidently made a lasting impression on me.  I wrote a bit more about her in Dancing with the Sandman, which is a highly fictionalized account of growing up in the 1960s.  The excerpt below is pretty much an unedited version of my incredibly young self, I let most of the grammar and punctuation stand as it was.

One of the most fascinating people I ever met was my cousin, Hank, the All American California Girl who sometimes lived in Arizona. Actually she lived in Arizona most the time. And Hank was her nickname. To tell you the truth I never did like her. I guess I still don’t.

When I first met her, she had come to stay with my grandparents at the farm in Roville in the summer. I really remember her only a little, but what I do remember the most was how bad I hated her. She just did things on purpose that made me dislike her so.

For a start, she had long, red hair that fell way below her waist and that would be the summer that I had to get mine cut! What really topped it all was her personality, she was such a snob when it was just me, but when anyone (usually a guy) was around she was all smiles and I was that adorable “little cousin and didn’t she have such lovely hair!” Now didn’t she have a split personality or did she have a split personality! However that wasn’t the most humiliating thing she was known for, I remember the time we took her to the movies and I got to watch her show off in front of a dozen boys, “Yes but of course she surfs at the beach, and of course she has been in at least five movies and twelve glamour magazines.” The point here is quiet obvious, she was VAIN. I have always hated vanity in a person ever since.

Oh but that doesn’t compare with the “pure honesty” that she admires in a person even though she had no idea how I had gotten my small pox vaccination knocked off (she pushed me out of the tree house). But that really didn’t count as making her dishonest because I was quiet unimportant and why just the day before she was telling Greggy darling how she respected him for being honest and telling his girlfriend why he couldn’t see her the rest of the summer. Yes true “Honesty” was what she really respected in a guy, HOGWASH.

And then there was the other side of her personality. When she got tired of staying on this side of innocence and went playing the WICKED WITCH. She reverted into the “helpful, concerned and sometimes mistreated young lady! And this I think (but really can’t be certain) is what I hated about her the most. For instance, she got on this kick (it happened to be the day when my sisters were gone and I was the only one under forty around). Anyway, I had already decided that it was best for me to ignore her (maybe she would go away). She had came up to me and announced that it was time for us to be friends and what would I like to play? Well here was my chance I thought to let her see how the other half lived. Why then did she run screaming into the house when I gave her my pet, Freddy, to hold? I still haven’t figured it out but I do know it cost me a good whipping to learn that Hanky didn’t like the pretty green grass snake. After that I became the “hideous little tomboy and she was ready to swear that every day I was ready to throw some Poisonous Creature out to kill her. And who knows if I could have found one maybe…. The grownups had repeatedly asked why I wanted to be so mean to my pretty, sweet cousin. Ha!

Then there was her “hobbies” one of which was her makeup. And believe me, it was a globby hobby. She only wore a “touch” of this and that which was suited for a 15 year old. It was when those touches melted that really got me (we had such a vicious sun) when she wasn’t at her glamorous best she would pack a “mask” on her lovely complexion to “protect it from the harsh climate of this jungle.” Brother!

Then, there was her doll collection. She had every doll from anywhere, Japan, China, France and Italy, and of course she never played dolls when she was nine and didn’t I think I should stop? And if I wouldn’t, then why wouldn’t I at least get one that looked human? So she didn’t like Ethyl, big deal! I wasn’t exactly ready to go to college either so why did she worry so about my age, I sure didn’t.

It was her romantic life that really seemed to make me wonder. She informed me that I would always be immature and should watch how she handled boys so that I might not be a total loss. And so I observed. She had one that lived about a mile down the road and the one who lived in town and the one who lived in Rule, and one whose daddy lived in Kason City and he lived there part time too, and when he wasn’t there, he was living with his mother in town. Oh yes, she had plenty and they all had a driver’s license so they could pick her up. I remember that night when she had just completely forgot about asking “Greggy to come over, and Ricky poo just happen to drop by at the same time, and Johnny dear (who lived down the road) just wandered into the area and decided to stop. Boy did she have a mess on her hands! But I helped, and they never did come back.

Now one might wonder why I picked her to do a sketch on and why I called her the most fascinating person I ever met, well you know how a certain kind of lizard can change colors? Well, that is what I would compare her to (except she didn’t have little beady eyes). No, but like I said before she had such a changeable personality.

She repeatedly told me how glad she would be if “she lived long enough to get home and she would absolutely never consider coming back,” but when that glorious hour arrived, when at last she was to leave, (and I had to postpone feeding my goldfish just to tell her “bye” and how happy I was to have her. She was standing there telling my grandmother, “Oh Aunt Twillia, I have enjoyed this visit so much and I have enjoyed getting acquainted with my cousins, especially Binky, she is so darn sweet and don’t worry dear your hair will grow back, it just took mine eight years. Then she added, “Why don’t you guys come to see us?” “I will,” I piped up, and when no one else was watching she turned to me with a threatening look. And I still haven’t figured out why…

 

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  1. I know how “Binky” felt, Lana. I was a plain Jane type; two of my older cousins were Homecoming Queen at their high school and real popular with the boys. They had all the advantages: thick, glossy hair, contact lenses, orthodontia, shapely figures, and tight Jordache jeans, while I was stuck with unruly waves, crooked teeth, lack of curves, and stiff Wrangler jeans that could have fit two of me. I never wrote about it, just envied them in private. Well done, esp so for a girl of 15! Is 9 really too old to play with dolls? 🙂

    • 9 – 10 definitely wasn’t too old then to play with dolls! Kids now, though…I had a 9 year old ask me the other day, “Would you let your 9 year old daughter have fake nails?” LOL, um, noooo… Kids! Oh my gosh, I remember those stiff Wrangler jeans, eeek! Cousins, yeesh. I have another one that I also wrote about, go figure, lol. She was a blonde bombshell, Marilyn Monroe type. She is late 60s now and still drop-dead gorgeous! How the heck do these gene pools work, anyway?

  2. I’m glad I don’t have a cousin like her….. I did have ” friends” like her…. I call them double-faced…. but mostly just envious.

  3. The writing gene developed in you young Lana – this is a clever and slightly vitriolic piece about your cousin, clearly written by a teenager with green eyes 🙂 Horrible Hank! 😀

    • Thank you so much! She was rather horrible; however, I also found her quite captivating. It is kinda sad, I saw her a couple of times after that, then never heard anything else. Her immediate family all died in a tragic turn of events, she climbed on the back of a motorcycle with a man in the late seventies, and that’s all I know. It is lucky to have that, I’ve lost so many things that I am truly amazed it still lives. 😀

        • It’s a mystery, Mek: “In the years to come, I would also think of my Cousin Hank in the same cowboy spirit. She had some bad luck in her family when she was a teenager. First, her mother died of cancer, then her oldest sister, Connie, was diagnosed with it, too. While Connie was in the hospital,
          her other sister, Janie went to see her. As cruel fate would have it, Janie was killed in an auto accident on the way to the hospital to see her sister. So after Hank’s oldest sister Connie died, Hank was left as an orphan without siblings. Since the family was gone, the only solution was for Hank to go and live with relatives, an option she didn’t wish to consider in her bitter grief. Hank donned her black leather jacket and grabbed a small bag and climbed on the back of a Harley motorcycle with some guy she had just met. She got on that motorcycle and rode out of Arizona to parts unknown, and we never saw her again after that. When Hank struck out for her future, I, too, was woefully sad. I wondered what would ever happen to her. Would she become a drifter or decide to head off to Mexico or live in another foreign country somewhere? In my dreams, I envisioned Hank with her long red hair flowing behind her as she stepped up onto the back of that Harley and wrapped her arms around a leather clad figure. Then they both vanished against the burning amber of an Arizona sunset. A few years later, I would recall her many times. I could see Hank as though she were standing right before me. I would think of her and wish that I could have just a little bit of the fire that seemed to emanate through her, weaving magnificently through her long, red hair that framed those fierce eyes of green ice.” And that’s what happened, I wish I knew….

  4. It’s actually scary how people can have split personality nd that too within minutes.How their all nice to you nd after a minute the same people would talk behind your back or do something weird.
    I truly loved this post …👌💞

  5. Isn’t it fascinating how the impressions we build of others when we’re kids just seem to stick? You really captured a slice of life here, Lana. I hope you’ll dust it off a bit and whip it into a short story!

    • Yes, I agree. Those impressions form early, for better or worst, ha ha. I wrote Hank’s entire story in my Dancing with the Sandman book which is a highly fictionalized account of growing up in the 1960s. She had a rather tragic conclusion. I may post some more about her, but I have to watch the word count as I’m only allowed so much.

  6. what a story, very interesting! I know what you mean all the going-on about cousines when we are all young. I have been there too, same tragedy! lol. Like you said we are all grown up now. Most of them have become grandmothers, me alone am still mother. I haven’t spoken to them or seen them for the past 20 years. I am the one who avoids them, they are too toxic. I started writing something about this too, but I haven’t finished. Will do soon one day and will post it. Thank you for posting, it was really interesting!

    • Hi Juli! I totally think it is best to avoid toxic people. It will be good also to read your family stories. I always find family relationships interesting. Thank you so much for reading and for the wonderful compliment!

  7. Oh, Lana! This one had me rolling on the floor holding my belly with laughter! 😁 I had exactly the same cousin!! And I know this green monster of envy only too well 😉
    What an awesome piece of writing! And not only because you were 15 back then. 😄 Much love to you! xoxo 💕

    • These cousins, lol! You know what I’m talking about, Sarah 😀 Thank you for the lovely compliment. I was happy to find it after all these years. Much love back to you. Happy weekend too!

  8. My cousins pale in comparison…but think what a great character to study…she’s enough to write a whole book around! Brilliant writing and I’m chuckling at Hank and her wiley ways! 😀 Do you still keep in contact? Does she know she made it into a book?

    • Hank was something else. I despised her and was also captivated by her at the same time. She was a gorgeous creature with a bite, lol! I saw her a couple of times after that summer. My grandparents were the glue in that family that kept us all together, and when they passed away in the seventies, that was pretty much the demise of the family (since they lived in Arizona and California and we lived in Texas). I don’t keep in contact, and don’t know what happened after she disappeared in the late seventies. Here’s an excerpt… “In the years to come, I would also think of my Cousin Hank in the same cowboy spirit. She had some bad luck in her family when she was a teenager. First, her mother died of cancer, then her oldest sister, Connie, was diagnosed with it, too. While Connie was in the hospital,
      her other sister, Janie went to see her. As cruel fate would have it, Janie was killed in an auto accident on the way to the hospital to see her sister. So after Hank’s oldest sister Connie died, Hank was left as an orphan without siblings. Since the family was gone, the only solution was for Hank to go and live with relatives, an option she didn’t wish to consider in her bitter grief. Hank donned her black leather jacket and grabbed a small bag and climbed on the back of a Harley motorcycle with some guy she had just met. She got on that motorcycle and rode out of Arizona to parts unknown, and we never saw her again after that. When Hank struck out for her future, I, too, was woefully sad. I wondered what would ever happen to her. Would she become a drifter or decide to head off to Mexico or live in another foreign country somewhere? In my dreams, I envisioned Hank with her long red hair flowing behind her as she stepped up onto the back of that Harley and wrapped her arms around a leather clad figure. Then they both vanished against the burning amber of an Arizona sunset. A few years later, I would recall her many times. I could see Hank as though she were standing right before me. I would think of her and wish that I could have just a little bit of the fire that seemed to emanate through her, weaving magnificently through her long, red hair that framed those fierce eyes of green ice.” And that’s what happened, I wish I knew….

      • Lana, I’ve waited to read this until I came to my computer. What a terrible tragedy to strike her as young…your piece evokes so much of Hank’s free spirit and strength and wildness – and also with clear insight recognises your slight envy and dreams of what you could be with some of that fire. So the mystery remains…haunting and disturbingly unresolved. Very well written, Lana. Thank you so much for sharing here. I’ll keep picturing with her long red hair and fierce eyes of green ice!

        • Thank you so much, Annika. One of the best things about writing the Sandman book was that I am able to give some of these people a touch of immortality, though many of them are gone now. Someday, somewhere, some time, someone may take this book down and read and for a moment, they can be transported back into an past era and glimpse life in a small town, the ups and downs of family dynamics, and the dreams and disappointments of an average little girl.

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