JOY ALONG THE WAY: DAILY STRUGGLES WITH IMOGENE AND A MODEL OF PERFECTION

Due to the fact that many people wanted to have a say in what my name would be, I was blessed, I think, with a variety of names during my early years.

Grandpa had favored Imogene. I don't know why. There is no Imogene as far back as known family history goes. But I, too, when I knew what names were, liked the name. I think it was because of the three syllables. It had a sort of felicitous flow. I named one of my dolls Imogene, the prettiest one. When some of my other dolls wouldn't sit up straight at the tea table, I scolded them. "Just look at how Imogene sits," I'd advise them or, "Why can't you behave like Imogene?" Imogene did everything right in my mind.

In who knows what way, this advice to my dolls has carried over to sort of scold myself into doing better or at least attempting to. It is not on my mind all the time, but when I catch myself walking all humped over, I think, is that the way Imogene would walk? I straighten up at least for a little while.

If my mind wanders while someone else is talking, I mentally slap my brain and ask, "Is that the way Imogene would listen?" Imogene is very opposed to letting dirty dishes accumulate in the sink, interrupting others' conversations, making gloomy predictions, wearing the same sweat shirt three days in a row and a whole host of other stricturing things.

Imogene of three syllables is on a pedestal. Sometimes I'd like to take the broom handle and knock her off, but Imogene wouldn't do anything like that. She would only say, calmly and sweetly, "It is good to have a model of perfection, even if you never reach it. I have one, too."

What! Imogene has a model of perfection! How could she? She is supposed to be perfection herself. She has betrayed me! And then I think of how Imogene would react to this accusation. She would say, "I'm not perfect. No one is. That is as it should be. For if we think we are perfect there is no necessity to keep striving toward perfection as we are advised to do."

Uh-huh.

So, I ask myself, "What would Imogene do about the packet of valentines I received early on the morning of Valentine's Day from Mrs. Adams' kindergarten class at Scott County Central Elementary?

There I was sitting in the bright morning sunshine (rain came later), having already baked my striped cake (it turned out to be polka-dotted. I'll explain the process some day) when the knock came on the door and the packet of valentines was handed to me. There was a note saying that part of my valentine column had been read to the kindergarten class and these little people didn't want anyone to be without a valentine. So here were 17 little valentines each in an individual envelope.

The very first valentine I opened and read said, "You're the best of both worlds." Both worlds! What a coincidence that I'd been thinking of my ordinary world and the world of Imogene.

Imogene might have gotten into her car right away and taken the polka-dotted cake to Scott County kindergarten. But 18 pieces from a one layer cake? Too small.

I sat down, typed and sent a story to my little friends who assure me on their valentines that I'm the "best of both worlds," "I'm a big pizza of his heart," "I'm picture perfect," "I'm a legend in my own time," and she "gets a kick outta me!"

Hey, Imogene! How's that?

Thank you, little ones. You brightened my day.

REJOICE!

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime columnist for the Southeast Missourian.