The Oddball Archives

  The name ‘Leslie’ is Gaelic in origin, derived from a family surname which means either 'garden of hollies', 'garden by the pool' or 'grey fortress'.

   The name is androgynous, shared by famous women (Leslie Caron and Leslie Uggams) and men (Leslie Howard and Leslie Nielson). There were two other men named Leslie who dropped the name and found fame as someone else (Leslie Townes Hope became celebrity Bob Hope, while Leslie King, Jr. became U.S. President Gerald Ford).

   Nope…it still doesn’t explain my sister.

   Leslie Ann was born February 19, 1961, just under 16 months after me. I thought for many years Mom named her after actress Leslie Ann Warren, until I researched and found her reaching her fame in the televised production of Rogers and Hammerstein’s ‘Cinderella’ in 1965, four years later. Then I remembered one of Mom’s favorite movies at the time was ‘Giant’, which starred Elizabeth Taylor as a character named Leslie Benedict. A quick call to Mom confirmed my findings. Bless them, they’re so predictable.

   Leslie is closer to me in age than any other member of the family. She had four brothers and played like ‘Big Daddy’ Lipscomb on the back lot football field, but she also had two sisters with whom she could play ‘Barbie’ with the best of them. Sometimes she would have Barbie go on a date with Major Matt Mason or G.I. Joe, which irritated my brothers on occasion.

   Growing up together was what I can best describe as ‘peaks and valleys’…okay, ‘Mt. Everest and Challenger Deep in the Marianna Trench’ would be closer. She was not afraid to try something, but if she didn’t like it, there was no swaying her to try it again.

   Her first day of school taught us that.

   She got her textbooks early from the Troilette family, who had a son one year older than her and was most likely getting his books from either me or Kevin. This was normal in parochial education. We often traded books, clothes (if uniforms were required) and other items with other families as needed. Just keep them neat and tidy and well sewn in the appropriate places. She had seen Jackie, Kevin and I go off to school, while she stayed home with the ‘babies’. She wanted to go. She wanted to be grown up, too.

   Finally the big day came when she attended the first grade at Our Lady of Good Counsel School at 12^th and Jackson. She was up early. She had her books, her dress, her hair all pulled back and was seriously ready to do some learning.

   I don’t know what happened that first day, but for the next 11.9 years of elementary and secondary education, it took an Act of Congress just to get her to lift the bedcover from her face and say, ‘I’m moving, I’m moving’.

   One night, not long after her second year of ‘Hell in Education’, a terrible late-night storm hit the city and prompted the local weather service to issue a Tornado Warning. Since we lived close to the State Capitol, Mom and Dad got all the kids up and hauled us off to the secure confines of solid marble and concrete. As we huddled there, Dad took a head count and realized we were one kid short.

   Leslie had mistakenly thought it was time to get up for school and rolled back over in her ‘recently-deceased opossum’ pose. There was no record of her reaction as Dad drove all the way back home in the driving wind and rain to get her up and out.

   Now, please, don’t get the impression that I think of her as the Anti-Christ or the Devil’s Spawn or the Surest Sign of the Apocalypse. That being said, there was something about her that, at times, scared me.

   On the outside, I will be the first to admit she is quite pretty. If I were to play ‘Who Would Play You in the Movie Version of Your Life?’, there are several excellent choices to make on her behalf. For our time and place, I would have to say Maureen ‘Marsha Brady’ McCormack would get the part, hands down. She had the same build, hair, face, smile and fashion sense and, remarkably, school popularity as Leslie…with one notable exception. When Leslie overexerted herself or was in the opening stage of a shouting contest, a bright brood-red ‘V’ would emerge on her forehead, arching from her temples to right between her eyes. When that thing was in place, you either stared at it or ran at full gallop away from her presence, lest you be spontaneously combusted.

   It is a well-known fact that girls mature faster than boys. Being that she was only 1.2 years younger than me, after we moved to Conway, Leslie had a bit of a growth spurt that changed her from the ‘Little Sister’ to ‘The Hell-Beast Who Got Revenge’ for a decade of me playing, ‘I’m Bigger than You!’.  One night, she set a personal best for pounding me at Arm Wrestling. It took me years to get over that. She also got her driver’s license ahead of me (I flunked the written part of the exam). Growing up in the South, that’s a hard thing to live down.

   She was also more popular than me. I can say that now with a little pride, but it was hard to swallow back then. As one who disdained school (are you taking notes, Katie?), she found a lot of kindred spirits in the Popular Ranks. It was on more than one occasion when she would sneak out for some frolics, prompting Mom to get me (who stayed home with nothing to do) to reverse the lock on her bedroom door to keep her in.  No biggie…she began sneaking out the window.

   We were about as polar opposites as there could be. This leads to the inevitable question, ‘Why write about her in this fond rose-colored backward glance?’ I guess the best reason is (A) she is family and (B) love can be grown by the most unorthodox means.

   She challenged me more than anyone else to make me a better person without half-trying. She taught me about facing bad situations with clear thinking. She proved to be the equalizer that kept me from turning into a total and complete geek. When I needed an outside view of my work, she gave me the most honest opinion. One assignment in High School called for me to play a character on tape that was, shall we say ‘light in the loafers’. She bluntly opined that I didn’t just sound gay, I was Flaming! I still don’t know how to take that.

   As the years went by and we went to our own lives, she provided support in a way I never expected. I’ve talked at length about our Dad’s funeral, when she held my hand throughout the trip home from the cemetery. When Kevin died, she came into my room and plainly said, ‘You’re the big brother now.’ I’ve never forgotten that.

   Most recently, my tweenie daughter spent the better part of a month going through crying jags and a palpable fear of going to sleep. The wife and I were stumped as to what course of action to take. I called Leslie, who talked to my girl. It wasn’t long before she had a better grasp on things and the crying stopped. I didn’t ask what was shared between them. I just knew that Leslie had the answers. I wouldn’t have trusted anyone else.