excerpt from “Bush Hogs and Other Swine” 

 

Daddy’s Little Princess 

   

by Robin Traywick Williams

   

​        It’s sort of hard to imagine now, but our tomboy in riding boots and a ball cap

once aspired to be crowned a beauty queen. Katie was about 11 when she

showed us an ad for a local pageant and said, “Can I do that?”

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​       Not my thing, I thought, but what can it hurt?

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​       So I called the organizer to ask a few questions. She was very reassuring.

I gathered this was a sort of “starter” pageant for girls (and their clueless moms)

to learn the ropes. The costs, she assured me, were minimal. Katie could wear

her regular clothes. “This is not a glitz-and-glamour pageant,” she told me several

times. I gathered that was a good thing.

  

​        At some point, she suggested maybe we should get a coach.

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       ​Whoa, I thought. But then, I had grown up on the horse show circuit.

Remembering how we used to laugh at the guy riding a Western saddle in an

English class, I said, “Okay, give me the coach’s number.”

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       ​So then we made an appointment with the coach for Katie to learn to walk.

The coach would also evaluate her wardrobe. 

  

​       The coach’s daughter had been on the circuit for 15 or 20 years, and their house was full of curio cabinets with crowns, tiaras, sashes, trophies and portraits. In one place, there was a sort of shrine, with trophies, pictures and laminated news articles from various pageants arranged on stepped risers.

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       ​We had clearly come to the right place.

   

​       The coach gave Katie a quick stage lesson. She told her where to stop and turn, where to stand and smile, how to place her feet. I drew the pattern on the back of an envelope. I didn’t care whether Katie won or not, but I didn’t want people laughing at her for using a Western saddle.

 

       ​ “Do you have a gown?” she asked and I showed her the Sunday school dress I (hilariously) imagined Katie could wear in the gown competition.

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        ​I’m sure the coach was wondering, privately, how this poor child would stand a chance with such an ignorant mother, but she patiently showed us what the judges would be looking for: a miniature replica of the frothy white gown Lady Diana wore when she married Prince Charles.

 

​       This, it turns out, was what Katie was looking for, too. She tried it on and was immediately captivated.

 

       ​As Katie admired herself in the mirror, I picked up an orange satin jumpsuit covered with sequins and said, “So sometimes the girls wear pantsuits in the gown portion?”

   

       ​No, the coach said, trying to use one-syllable words, that’s for sportswear.

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       ​After the coaching session, I returned all the clothes we’d bought and started over. We struck a deal with the owner of the wedding cake dress and rented it for the show. We also bought a lot of hair products, and I experimented with curling Katie’s long hair. I mailed Katie’s entry form, entering her in all the optional portions, too – photogenic, talent, etc. So much for “minimal” costs.

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       ​The pageant was held at the high school, where, fortuitously, Katie made friends with a little girl who was a veteran. The little girl cheerfully shared bobby pins, hairspray and advice throughout the day. Katie had a wonderful time. She walked the walk and turned the turns.

    

​       Meanwhile, my husband and I sat in the audience, mesmerized. As we were watching chubby little tots twirling batons and tap dancing, Katie suddenly materialized next to us. “Daddy!” she said in a voice cracking with anxiety. “You’ve got to go home quick and get the piano!”

   

       Our coach had told us that showing a video of Katie riding her pony probably wouldn’t work for the talent portion. So Katie, who had been force-fed piano lessons for a few months, had planned to play something from her repertoire. We assumed the high school had a piano.

   

       As Katie trembled in fear that her magical day would end in humiliation, her dad smiled and pointed to a piano tucked in a corner, obscured by a pile of coats. Katie exhaled.

  

       Several girls sang and danced to Broadway show tunes. Katie plonked out her forgettable tune. Eventually, the interminable day drew to a close. Katie looked lovely in the rented wedding dress, the two cans of hairspray maintained some of the curl in her hair and she received a truly impressive trophy for being third runner-up.

  

       But the moment that brought a tear to my eye was when Katie expected her father to run home and toss the piano in the pickup so she could perform. I loved the fact that she knew he could do such a thing, in the next 15 minutes.

   

       This was the biggest moment of her life and there was a huge problem, but she knew who could fix it.

       

       Dad.

 

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Excerpt from “Bush Hogs and Other Swine”

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