It was springtime in Washington. I was twelve and visiting my cousins. My aunt took us to the annual Potomac Pony Show, sponsored by the Junior League, which she was president of that year. She was rushing all about seeing to this and that and the other. A just younger cousin was already on her pony and practicing something called, I think dressage. Bea, my twin first cousin, and I did not ride. We disliked the smells involved and the height from the good old solid ground. So we, becoming bored with watching Judy doing seemingly not much, ran off to explore the grounds, which were full of little kiosks selling everything from hand crocheted doilies and antimacassars to bakery goods and white elephants. I was disappointed at the latter stall, as there was not an elephant in sight, white or otherwise. We were having a good old time of it when one of the younger members came running up to us and said my aunt wanted us over at the viewing stands right away. We, of course, wondered what we’d done now. Aunt Virginia was a tad on the frustrated side, but we were not in hot water. It seemed the guest of honor had arrived a whole half hour before schedule, and we were elected to walk her about the grounds and show her the stalls and chat her up until the Proper Hour of her recognition. We, dressed in navy shorts, sneakers, and striped tee shirts, bounced up and down in our excitement, our braids jumping with us.
We walked those sloping pathways and announced each exhibit with such expertise you would have thought we had done all the work and planning ourselves. How obnoxious and all knowing we were!
But you see, our soft spoken guest seemed absolutely enchanted with us. Bowled over, in fact! She wanted to know our ages, where we went to school, our favorite books, what we wanted to be when we grew up. Our words ran over themselves and into one another’s as we worked our vocal chords to death to serve up all this important information. We had a new best friend and admirer! All of these long years, I have felt so sad that we never asked HER a question. Or showed our admiration. Or anything! Bea was always sorry, as well; and she died in 1994. One thing we always agreed upon and told others. When not speaking in public, this most gracious of ladies had the loveliest voice you can imagine. Like soft music. Eleanor Roosevelt totally wowed us, at the same time leaving us with the impression we had made an indelible impression on her. As if!
