Catch a Falling Star

Because many of you readers are also writers, let me show you how to begin telling your own flash memoir.

Just let memories float to the surface, one by one, not knowing how they’ll connect, but trusting that as they pour out, the Holy Spirit will reveal a theme, a phrase that encapsulates a truth He’s leading you and your readers to understand more deeply.    

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I’ll start with a memory of watching TV as a little girl when June Cleaver was a sitcom mom, wearing a shirtwaist dress and heels, yes heels, while she blissfully ironed her husband’s shirts and cooked meals inspired by Betty Crocker. She was my mom and every other mom who manned my Leave-it-to Beaver neighborhood.

I remember watching Captain Kangaroo and Romper Room until I was old enough to catch the school bus. I remember boys fastening playing cards to the spokes of their bike wheels with clothespins, so their two-wheelers sounded like motorcycles. I remember the neon pink streamers I stuck into the white rubber handles of my first blue bicycle and tooling around the neighborhood looking for playmates.

I remember the door-to-door Fuller Brush man, and the truck that delivered Charles Chips in a yellow can. I remember the galvanized milk box that the milkman filled with glass bottles capped with a thin cardboard stopper and a pleated paper lid.

Saturday nights, I recall watching the Laurence Welk Show, the stage in front of his bandstand haloed with soap bubbles while women in chiffon dresses danced with tuxedoed partners to his champagne music. I remember Myron Floren, playing “The Beer Barrel Polka” on his accordion and Jo Ann Castle plinking out honky-tonk piano while I romped around the living room.

How can I forget Liberace flouncing onto the stage in a glittering cape and seating himself with a flourish at a grand piano topped by a candelabra. I was sure if my parents just bought me a piano, I could perform like these icons.

That calls up the Ted Mack Amateur Hour, an old school American Idol that featured teenage girls in majorette boots twirling batons and ventriloquists who talked to dummies with wooden faces like Howdy Dowdy’s. My favorites were the tap dancers in spangled costumes who slapped their patent leather shoes on the floorboards mimicking Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.

This leads me to the Ed Sullivan Show where I first saw the Beatles. But way before I had a crush on Paul, one of the show’s regulars was a mouse puppet with an Italian accent named Topo Gigio who joked with Sullivan, calling him Eddy.

Italian Americans reminds me of Perry Como, a crooner who also had his own show. I remember him wearing a collared shirt and V-neck cardigan long before Mr. Rogers ever zipped up his sweater. When I Googled Perry Como, I found he was nicknamed Mr. Casual because of his trademark outfit. I also stumbled upon a video of him singing “Catch a Falling Star.”

That triggers an image from the depths of my brain. I’m less than five years old in a little blue dress with bands of rick rack above the hem. My head is bowed over a star-studded locket around my neck. When I open the case, a miniature music box plays Como’s tune, “Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket. Never let it fade away.”

Never let it fade away. I am no longer that little girl who watched Ted Mack and Captain Kangaroo. The milk bottles and Fuller brushes of my childhood are now antiques found at flea markets. This week three people in my orbit passed from this life into the next. One of them was the husband of the woman who taught me to tap dance, finally, at my local senior center.

What I remember about her husband was she called him Mr. Wonderful. He was ready to meet his maker, and I am grateful for the way his faith and kindness brushed my life.

When it’s time for my star to fall from this sky into eternity what do I want others to catch from my life and put in their pocket? The grace of God that can never fade away. How about you?  

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So that’s how you start my friends. You don’t have to be a Hollywood Star, for your story to matter. As believers we can make God’s power and love visible in our ordinary lives. Try it, and see where the Lord leads.

For now, we can only see a dim and blurry picture of things, as when we stare into polished metal. I realize that everything I know is only part of the big picture. But one day, when Jesus arrives, we will see clearly, face-to-face. In that day, I will fully know just as I have been wholly known by God. 

1 Cor. 13:12 (VOICE)   

Cover photo by averie woodard on Unsplash