The Sues Have It

Down in Mississippi, up to no good. Sugarland's Jennifer Nettles immortalizes her mother Carla Sue's wilder days in song. Martine told me that whenever she hears this song, she thinks of me. My sis and I do have Mississippi roots, our father is a native Mississipian. It was briefly my state of residence as a toddler, three or so years before my sister was born. We moved back up to the northern plains, but a bit of Mississippi remains in our blood. One small detail, I am a Carla Jean, but one night way back in the spring of 1984, I was an honorary Carla Sue. My room mate at the time, Brenda Sue, was in the middle of her most recent breakup with her boyfriend. We normally dealt with this particular turn of events by going downtown and consuming inappropriate amounts of alcohol. I was likely the designated driver as well as the designated shoulder to cry on that night. We wandered into the Lantern Lounge and encountered a table of women that Brenda knew. They invited us to join them. We did. As introductions went around the table, an interesting fact emerged. Every single one of those ladies had the same middle name! Sue! Brenda Sue, Paula Sue, Penny Sue, Patty Sue! I smiled sheepishly and announced that my name was Carla (pause) Jean. They were audibly disappointed. I was, too. I've always had some difficulty fitting in with a group of women, I seem to have qualities that keep me on the outside looking in. Never completely accepted, never entirely embraced. The Sues didn't know this of me, they were just girlfriends out on the town for the evening. After an agonizing silence of likely just a few seconds, one of them proclaimed me an honorary Sue. Just for that evening, mind you, but I would be allowed to stay at the table. I was relieved. And grateful. I remember this incident fondly, and only recently have I learned a true lesson from it. Over the years, in countless relationships, I have consciously abandoned one thing or another that is dear to me. So I would be included. Allowed to stay. Many things come at a price, and it is up to any one of us to determine if that cost is worth the price of admission. And as a more peripheral friend to the most recent group of women I have been summarily drummed out of confided in me: I really wanted to be one of you, to be in the inner circle. To experience the intense and profound relationships that I observed between you. But now that I've seen how they have treated you, I know that it's too high a price to pay. At least for me it is. The Sues may have it. But in my heart I'll always be a Jean.