Calamity Jane Makes Me a Legend

My parents never told me I could be anything I wanted to be. My mother—often a cynic—could point out the shortcomings in anyone’s dream. She could offer examples of the twists and turns life can take just to disappoint in the end. And my dad? In moments I felt pleased with myself, he might say “Don’t get too proud of yourself” in a way that sounded like solid advice. I took in their perspective, which has since played off and on inside me for at least sixty years. It played hard the day I struggled to buy a fun t-shirt.

The T-Shirt in South Dakota

I’m driving and camping solo in state and national parks all the way from Vermont to the Badlands and back. This day is for sightseeing. Navigating the winding roads of the Black Hills, I’ve visited the Crazy Horse monument, stepped out to enjoy scenery, and restocked my cooler at Lynn’s Dakotamart in Custer. Now I’m enjoying the tourist scene on Main Street in Deadwood, where—among other notorious characters—Wild Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane spent time. This place inspired a Netflix series I’d enjoyed with my husband years earlier. It’s a town full of shops that sell shirts with things like this printed on the front.

And I like this one.

But I get fussy. Find fault. I doubt Calamity Jane really said that. And where am I going to wear a shirt like this? Do I have to become something if I wear it? Do I actually want someone to believe I consider myself a legend?

I unfold the shirt and hold it up, enjoying the fun of it. Fold the sleeves to the back again and return it to the pile. Pick it up, put it down. Walk away and don’t buy it. Outside I shuffle past saloons, casinos, and ice cream shops. I’m ready to leave, crabby now about Deadwood.

Then, no. Just NO.

I’m not walking away. I like the shirt. Back up the street and into the shop. $24.99 and it’s mine.

Good for You!

Two days later I’m at Carlos Lake State Park in Minnesota. Still driving, camping, hiking. 

Men on their own come and go without much notice, but people react to me. They offer to help. Husbands often tell me “I don’t know if my wife would do what you’re doing.” Some wives tell me the ways their husbands are irritating them. I hear “Good for you!” often and with a lot of different inflections. 

One woman near my age approaches me purposefully at the water spigot. She squares her body to mine and stands about a foot away. She’s shorter than I am. She looks up—directly into my eyes—and says, “I really admire you for doing what you’re doing.” She adds, “I wish I could, but I don’t have the strength anymore.”

I realize I’m happy with myself. Happy I took this chance while I have the strength and other resources. Proud that I was able to organize all this, and to step into it.

Wait. Am I being a legend?

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A note: My guess was right. Calamity Jane probably did not say that. But it makes a fun t-shirt.
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