The Queen of Corn

After my last oh-so-scandalous post that mentioned - well, unmentionables, I have decided to make this post (and all future posts) suitable for audiences of all ages.  Well, the guarantee about future posts may be a stretch, but at the very least this one promises to be Rated G.  And what says wholesome and middle-America quite like a post about corn and friendship?  Not much.  So here is a nice cold glass of Organic Whole Milk (in a cyber sippy cup) to chase that naughty shot of Cuervo that was my last post.  So sit back, relax and feel free to enjoy with the whole family.

 

There is no easy way to say this so I'll just come right out and say it.  One of my all-time favorite movies is "Hope Floats" starring Sandra Bullock.  You can feel free to go ahead and judge, but the movie is sweet, charming and unexpectedly full of fabulous one-liners and little tidbits of wisdom.  It's also full of Harry Connick Jr. in a cowboy hat and jeans, and well, that's good enough for me.  Case and point:

What was I talking about again?  Oh right.  The movie is full of smart little life anecdotes, and in this post I will zero-in on my favorite.

*A little back story on the movie so the quote will have a frame of reference*:

Birdie (who names their kid that?), who is the Mom and lead character (played by Sandra Bullock) grew up in the rural town of Smithville, Texas.  She was apparently something pretty special back in high school because her beauty, personality and popularity ultimately earned her a crown and the title "Queen of Corn" in the Smithville annual parade.  Birdie entered womanhood with a charmed life, a handsome husband and the confidence that comes with having been a big fish in a small pond. 

The movie opens with Birdie sitting on a Dr. Phil-type daytime talk show stage.  Rather than getting the personal makeover she had been expecting, Birdie instead ends up finding out her lifelong best friend and her husband have been having an affair for some time.  They are in love and plan to be together.  This news leaves Birdie alone, not to mention shocked, embarrassed and broken.  The rest of the movie tells the story of this newly single mom trying to put the pieces of her life back together while trying to figure out what kind of a female role model she wants to be for her daughter, Bernice.

One day little Bernice asks Birdie about her early days in Smithville and her prestigious reign as the "Cream of Corn" (a cute and understandable mistake).  Birdie tells her daughter the following:  "When I was growing up, I thought I was going to be a special person, but I'm not.  I'm just an ordinary person, and that's okay - because you make me special." 

This line stuck with me and replayed in my mind many times throughout the course of my 20's.  Every time I felt as though I had been wronged in some way or life was turning out to be more difficult than I expected I would remind myself to get over it...and to get used to the idea that I didn't deserve it any better than anyone else.  To stop acting like I was the Queen of Corn. 

In an effort to have realistic life expectations (and maybe to keep myself humble), I spent a good part of my younger years reminding myself just how not special I was.  I was no different, no more interesting, no more beautiful, no more talented and no more intelligent than everyone else.  I spent many years practicing the art of humility and convincing myself that I had nothing distinctive or particularly unique to offer the world. 

Then I turned 34. 

I started to notice how amazing and talented my girlfriends are - all these women with such fabulous and unique gifts.  I have friends who teach school and friends who teach yoga.  I know women who can plant a garden and turn the results into a meal that would make Emeril blush.  I have friends who run marathons and friends that run the PTA.  Women who are raising their children while helping to raise other people's children.  I know women who make jewelry, or make furniture - and some that simply know how to make the sale.  I have friends who have a talent for painting or photographing life in such a way you didn't know it could be that beautiful. 

I look around me at these women who are killin' it every day in the office, or in the home (or both) for themselves and for their families.  These ladies are so versatile and multi-talented I couldn't easily pick the thing they do best - because most of them seem to do it all.  I'm starting to see that maybe we aren't special for the reasons we thought we were - but each of us are absolutely special just the same.  Maybe as we mature we become a woman who bears only a small resemblance to the girl we started out as, and most of the time that is a good thing.  There is a strength in knowing the things that make us special today (not twenty years ago) - and celebrating them.

I will close by saying that this community of talented women I am lucky enough to call my friends surprise me every day with all they are capable of doing.  And that from where I sit, each one of us looks like the Queen of Corn to me.