Speak Only When...
By Margery McCurdy Plummer
I have a problem, and it’s something that’s been bothering me for almost as long as I can remember. When I need to talk, I have difficulty communicating, and when I should be quiet, I want to talk.

I started noticing this when I was a very small child, and my mother, father, sister and I would go to Franklin, Kentucky to see a movie (picture show) on some Sunday nights. Some people at that time thought that it was wrong to go to movies on Sunday, but in our family the adults worked six days a week, and although we were together quite a bit, it wasn’t always in the form of entertainment.

Going to Franklin to the movies was a real treat because on the way we often stopped at the L and N Restaurant to have a delicious meal. Of course, the L and N stood for Louisville and Nashville highway.

Franklin, Kentucky at that time had two theaters, the Roxy and another one whose name I don’t remember, but I loved that theater, regardless of the movie being shown. All along the walls inside the theater, there were replicas of castles with turrets, mirror made lakes and glittering lights shining through little windows. There were three or four on each side of the interior of the theater and glitter lover that I am, I could hardly keep my eyes on the movie.
It seemed that when my father started the car for a trip to Franklin, I would start talking about all of the things that I needed to share. My mother enjoyed talking but not too much and not noisily. She was very patient and would let me rattle on for a good while, then she would say quietly, “Margery, please, let’s not talk for a while”. That would hurt my feelings, and I would vow, to myself, of course, not to speak until we got home. I couldn’t contain myself completely, but I did slow down so that I wouldn’t get my feelings hurt again.

One time when I really needed to be heard, I almost couldn’t. When I was taking singing and chorus from Mrs. Ann Erwin, I was more or less forced to sing a solo in a spring recital. I was told to learn the words and music to “I Only Want a Buddy, Not a Sweetheart”. I was terrified. In addition to not having a wonderful voice, I couldn’t even make myself get to the center of the stage. I stood glued to the floor, singing to all those people who probably couldn’t even hear me. That’s called stage fright.

In high school, we usually had a Junior, Senior play, using actors from each class. I did not have a starring role. In fact, I can’t remember the name of the play. What I do remember was that I was supposed to say “Alan, how could you?” to Wayne Brinkley. That I did, and he replied, “Now Laura.” I couldn’t remember what to say next, so I just repeated, “Alan, how could you?” We went on repeating our lines until someone, maybe a prompter behind the curtain bailed us out.

Only this afternoon I was speaking on the phone with a friend I hadn’t talked with in quite some time. We each had so much to say that we were talking at length at the same time and neither could remember what the other had said. We each have the same problem.

Maybe everyone should follow the adage, “Speak only when spoken to.” ... within reason. I’m trying.