We, the Coronado Scribes, consist of both professional and amateur writers. We have in common a desire to learn, by sharing our efforts and listening to other writers. We hold pressure-less sessions every Wednesday, at the Coronado Library conference room, starting at 1:30. Often we have guests who wish to just listen. They are welcome, and so are you.
Each week on eCoronado, we will feature a different piece of prose or poetry produced by one of our writers. Please feel free to comment or ask questions in the comment section below.
Annette Funicello
October 22, 1943 – April 8, 2013
We were Mouseketeers together:
She wore mouse ears made especially for her
By a seamstress at the Disney studios.
I wore the dime-store variety
That required bobby pins.
Under those ears,
Her hair gleamed curly-perfect raven-black
Mine sprawled curly-messy sparrow-brown
We sang together:
When she sang, the whole world listened
I sang in my living room with my sisters and a few neighbors.
My mother could hear me of course,
From a kitchen that smelled of sugar cookies.
We sat on Frankie Avalon’s beach blanket together:
Frankie adored her
She was perky and curvaceous and knew just what to say
Her eyes dark, expressive
Her eyebrows wondrous arches
My eyes were not a real color
Greenish-brownish, with a touch of hazel
My eyebrows scarred from a long-ago collision
With a backyard swing
Would a boy like Frankie ever adore me?
At night with my pillow, I could only hope so.
Yesterday, I read her obituary.
I was sad.
Though I had grown older
Discarded her for Betty Friedan and Sandra Day O’Connor
She remains a part of me
As is the young girl
Wearing mouse ears and
Longing for love on a beach blanket.
by (c) Jean Seager
September 15, 2013
