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Rated: ASR · Fiction · Family · #1775090
A mother and daughter in the roaring 20's
I wrote a ghost poem once, and people actually thought it was real. I hope with this story having a roaring 20's theme, people will know that it's only fiction. It's something for fun around Mother's Day. I hope you enjoy...


My Mother the Star

My mother is a silent film star. She tries to make my life as normal as possible, though, but actually my life is as exciting as you can imagine. I feel very special to have a mother who is a star.

Being from a celebrity family definitely makes my life interesting, and in addition to that, I’m so glad that I was born in this time. We have technology in our roaring 20’s that people years ago couldn’t even dream about. Many people in our neighborhood own automobiles. We own a Ford Model T. Mom took me shopping in it the other day and we had such a wonderful time. First we went to a ritzy store because mom wanted a new dress from her favorite fashion designer, Gabrielle Chanel. Chanel also makes a perfume now, so mom bought that, too. Mom says that she is not finished dressing unless she puts on her perfume. I love the sweet aroma when mom walks in the room. She now wears the Chanel fragrance a lot, and I relate that special scent as part of my mother.

Well, after we left that fancy store, we went to a bookstore to buy some books for me. Mom and I enjoy reading together, so we thought we should stock up. We bought a poetry book by Robert Frost, and “The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald. We also bought a newspaper. I like to read the funny pages, and mom, of course, likes to read about herself and what people are thinking about her movies.

Soon our shopping day was over and we started for home. On the drive back, I looked up in the sky and I saw an airplane! We send mail by airplane but mom said that upper class people sometimes ride on planes, and we, in fact, would be taking a trip in a few months. I wondered all the way home what it would feel like to fly in a plane. I will see the world the way a bird sees the world. The clouds must look like cotton, and the houses must look like dollhouses! I am definitely looking forward to that dreamy experience.

When we were back at our street, we passed some teenagers who live nearby. They don’t like the sexy way that my mother dresses so they always make fun of her. This time they yelled something nasty like, “Hey, did you see any prostitutes around?” I’ve learned to ignore them because they come from thickheaded families and it doesn’t help to try and change their opinion of us. A lot of our snobby neighbors shun us because mom looks like a flapper. It’s like they don’t understand that this is all part of being a star. They don’t like how she dresses because she wears thin, fringed, knee-length skirts and long pearl necklaces. She also gets cast in fancy free and outspoken roles, which make it hard for some people to think of her as a respectable lady, but most people adore her.

A lot of people invent fads in order to imitate my mother. One fad is to pluck their eyebrows just the way mom does. People also buy similar hats as she wears, from mail-order catalogues. All of my friends are envious that my mother is the star of silent films. They know that I get to meet many actors and playwrights. I even danced the Charleston with Charlie Chaplin at a party once. My friends don’t understand why I know all of these people and never get their autographs, but they are all just regular people to me. When my friends speak to my mother, I almost have to laugh at how nervous they get.

At home, my mother is just like everyone else’s mother. She listens to the same jazz age music on the radio that everyone else’s mother listens to. She especially likes Al Jolson, Duke Ellington, and Bessie Smith. Sometimes if she works late, I turn on the music and tell her to rest while I fix dinner. It’s easy for me now that Birdseye makes new frozen food products. Some tabloid psychoanalysts, who are dedicated to following Dr. Sigmund Freud, try to claim that she must be a bad mother, but that’s just not true. No matter how tired she is, she always spends time with me. She taught me quilting, and we are currently working on a new project. The Sigmund Freud followers could try to calculate the personality of my celebrity mom all they want, but I know how she really is. I’m proud that my mother is a silent film star.

Having a mother that’s a silent film star is also a whole lot of fun. There were many times when I was actually allowed on the set while some of her shows were being filmed. I remember this one scene where she was tied to train tracks. Seeing the spine tingling terror on her face made me want to run over and save her, but seeing a handsome guy struggle to bring her to safety made me put off a loud sigh of relief. She was saved! I was thrilled to hear the director yell “Cut. That’s a wrap”.

My mother told me that body language is the main voice of life. That sounds right to me because if someone says something, the person listening might not always be able to tell if they are serious, sarcastic, joking, or mad unless they actually see the person. My mother is a perfectionist in body language, but I always feel that a great part of her is being left out because people aren't hearing her beautiful voice. My mother has a voice that sounds so soft and sweet. Except for one time when I overheard her speaking to my science teacher...

Last semester I got an “F” in science. This was very weird for me because I have always been an “A” student in everything. My mother was furious that I suddenly got an “F”. My teacher seemed very disgusted with me and wanted to see my mother. I went with her and waited outside of the classroom. In my mind, I pictured the scene that would occur. My mother would seem to play out the scene from one of her movies. My science teacher would hold the tearful woman tenderly as they discussed the future of the devil tainted child. To my surprise, I instead overheard raised voices from inside the room. My mother’s voice seemed raspy and low toned with a quick edge to it. I heard her actually ask my teacher why she didn't teach as well as the other teachers! She went on to say that no other teacher ever had a problem teaching me. She wanted to know what methods the teacher would use to improve her teaching, so that I can learn properly. I was shocked that she insulted my teacher! Part of me never wanted to step foot into that classroom ever again, and part of me realized that my mother must love me very much. We have had many memories together. We have had a life of excitement.

image for one of my stories

Word Count: 1246
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