Thursday, August 10, 2006

Foxy Roxi

Being a supportive Browns backer finds me on the receiving end of their peppy email newsletter. In a recent issue was a photo of a gal in a southern state receiving some Browns-related commemorative coin. What caught my eye and caused further speculation was not the innocuous picture staring back at me but the somewhat unusual hyphenated surname. Oh. My. God! I gazed intently at the image. Surely there couldn’t be two Roxanne’s with this specific maiden name who just happened to be enthusiastic fans? I squinted harder to enhance visualizing the sixth grade girl I knew who had morphed into this adult stranger, if indeed it was her.

Roxanne was a natural-born leader with a talent for jump-starting anything fresh or innovative in our studious class of sixth grade overachievers. Not only was she bright and intelligent, she also flashed a winning smile and bubbled over with perky, contagious enthusiasm. "Miss Cutting Edge" was the first girl in our class to wear a bra, which caused a panicked stampede to the department store for hasty purchases of training bras (whether we needed them or not) from all her devoted followers. Besides beginning the hooter(less) holder craze, she was also famous for her intimate boy/girl parties in the low-lit confines of her sheltered basement. Slow dancing with nervous males would come in handy later when practicing coed interpersonal relationships, but at that innocent time it was a matter of enjoying the swaying nearness of Andy or Cole as we moved in tandem to the lilting music. Occasionally a cozy couple would glide to a darkened corner to collect stolen kisses in the unobtrusive shadows.

Our close friendship ended with the close of our last primary school year. We moved in different circles with the advent of the next higher step in the educational process. I suppose we blindly passed each other in the halls but the camaraderie we shared in elementary school was long forgotten. After my email discovery, I dug out my dusty yearbook to remember the brown-eyed, freckled cutie of my Buckeye past. A coveted (not by me I assure you) leadership office allowed her, along with adorable Andy, clever Cole, and two other gals whose names escape me, to grace the cover as their smiling visages welcome all to our slice of junior high heaven. Her Cleveland reign abruptly ends with that institution as she disappeared off the radar by the beginning of high school. I assume she moved. Though a yawning gulf separates us by years and geography, Roxi and I unite in spirit as we cheer on our beloved home team. :)

This is the kind of headline a person just dreads seeing:
"4 Penguins Perish in Freak Texas Truck Accident"

Is there no justice in this world??? Just look at this sweet wittle face…
Just saying. ;)


Wombat & Aspen said...

Ever the best-dressed critters those sweeties. They should have been travelling in a NetJet rather than some truck.

Poor wee things. And so hot for them, too!


Grant said...

Penguins are the instruments of Satan. I'm pretty sure that's in one of the books that didn't make the final edit of the Bible.

twisted panties said...

Oh, poor little penguins. They are so cute.

Isn't it weird when you run across people like that? Sometimes it can be in the weirdest places too.

Circe said...

Wombat--I just love penguins and used to have a childhood storybook that was a favorite.

Grant--No wonder I don't recall reading that particular book. Didn't make the final cut. LOL

Twisted--It was the weirdest thing and I hadn't thought about her in ages. The picture didn't clue me in at all and if it had only said her married name I wouldn't have thought a thing about it.