Hotlips Hooligans -- or How Did I Get Here
The Tale of Two Sheilas
In which one gets pregnant, the other gets booted . . . but do not despair, for there is a happy ending. . . as this is how I came to be.
Sheila #1 -- Sheila Reg (aka my mom, aka Hannibal)
February 1975. My parents were introduced in a Hansford County Dairy Queen by Rodeo Royalty. Their introduction must have stirred up quite the storm because of all that followed, well you will see.
For example,
In March 1975, equipment was stolen from my Great Uncle’s tractor, and on
March 29th, my Great Grandfather passed away, from shock, etiology unknown (which is medical speak for “shock for some reason”). In April 1975, my Grandad’s truck was stolen, later located in Hobart, Oklahoma about 200 miles away.
In July my dad proposed to my mom, I think she was fake pregnant. I once asked my dad where he was when he proposed, what he said, and if he was nervous. His response: “I don’t remember”. Right.
On August 30, 1975 my Great Grandmother passed away.
To round out the year:
My parents announced their engagement in October, and got married in November.
Fun fact #1 -- The date in the wedding announcement was November 21st. They actually got married a week earlier on November 14th. It’s almost as if my mom was trying to throw someone off the scent, hoping “they” wouldn’t show up. If so, she was unsuccessful, because “they” in fact did. And I have the pictures!
Fun Fact #2 -- In the announcement, my mom’s maiden name is different from the maiden name listed on my birth certificate. Same for my two younger siblings (?). So, in essence, my mom has at least three different but similar sounding maiden names. That is why I never know what to call her, so have to come up with my own monikers.
Sheila #2 -- Sheila Sheila (aka Sheila)
All while my mom was latching onto Hansford county society, her friend from the rodeo world was working on the son of another prominent Hansford family. Sheila and her target got married in October 1975, one month before my parents. Sheila-Sheila and my mom are about the same age, went to high school in Amarillo, look practically alike, and knew each other. As far as I can tell, they met on the rodeo circuit in the early 1970s.
Sheila and her family would definitely be considered Rodeo Royalty. Sheila’s nephew -- who is my age and grew up in the same town -- would later go on to hold the record for the most all-around cowboy world champion titles. As it happens, I was present in Las Vegas when he won his final championship just before retiring and went to his retirement party. His mother is also one of my mom’s three only friends.
Shelia is a dead ringer for my mom. Blue eyes, blond hair, similar complexion and the same gormless yet menacingly-grinned stare. Just for fun, I compared their yearbook pictures, and they could pass as twins or at least sisters sharing a heap of centimorgans.
Anyway, collectively they are known as the “Hotlips Hooligans”
Like this --
Photo courtesy of PFFK#7
To close out 1975, Thanksgiving and Christmas are important to our family and Hansford County. So let’s move up to June 1976.
The Crooked Little Spoon -- How it All Went Down
The Crooked Little Spoon (real name the Little Wooden Spoon, but that is not funny enough) was opened by my mom and Sheila on June 18, 1976 and located at 415 Main St. (By the way, most small towns in the Panhandle have only one main road, usually called “Main St” . . . for some unknown reason.)
To finance the shop, the two tanned, blue eyed blondes took out a bank loan backed by their dust covered Wrangler wearing husbands despite the bank president saying “this will never work”. My dad says the loan was $10,000, so it was probably double that.
The press announcement is precious and itself a monument to PR genius. They dubbed themselves the “genial proprietors” for this “posh culinary shop” run by two “charming helpful sales persons”. Why, they had cookie jars and “jars not cooky” (I think they meant “kooky”, but who’s complaining), chopping blocks, kitchen linens, steak plates, flatware, and coveted copper. I love coveted copper! I’m guessing that is the only time I or anyone else have seen the words “posh” and “coveted” in the same sentence in Hansford County. Posh is not coveted, and coveted is a no-no according all local pastors.
But wait, there’s more!
The interior of this bright enterprising locale was highlighted in “tangerine and provincial brown” (aka brown and off-brown), with “white wallpaper” backing the “many wares displayed”. Their selected must have taste-tempting item was “Cavender, an all-purpose Greek Seasoning Dip” (really from a store in the Ozarks which I am pretty sure in not in Greece). The Crooked Little Spoons, believe it or not, also sells spoons: well its all in the curve, designed to aerate the batter ~ call it ergonomics meets science in this particularly dry climate. Love it! If I weren’t laughing, I’d be crying.
I wondered where they came up with the idea. The female population over 18 in town then was barely maybe 300. It’s likely a minuscule portion of the loan went into outfitting the interior with displays, drapes and the tangerine and provincial brown ambiance. Then I remind myself its my mom, Hannibal, she is a newlywed, just moved to town, so it’s peak hustle time. No better time to keep the LoveCon going and turn it into some actual cash. The Crooked Little Spoon opened on June 18, 1976.
Now for Hannibal it’s early July and Hannibal is in a bind. It’s hot as bejeezus, no one’s buying the Cavendars Greek Seasoning Dip, and the “posh” shop is closing. Sheila is being run out of town. I feel bad for Sheila, I think she was a scapegoat.
