When I was a kid, I occasionally used to go out to New Jersey and stay with my aunt (my mother’s sister) and her two daughters, particularly after my mother had died. Sheila was my age and Denise was 2 years younger. I liked them all and we usually had a good time.
On one visit when I was 14, I had no sooner arrived when my aunt grabbed me and took me into the kitchen to discuss something “very important.” She said that a close friend and neighbor in town had written a play that was going to be produced in the town playhouse on this coming Saturday night. In one of the scenes, a teenage boy is forced to dress like a girl, including girl’s underwear and a frilly dress with a full skirt and petticoats. A girl in the play then pulls up his skirt revealing his frilly panties. The boy who was scheduled to play that part had just backed out because he was afraid of the ribbing he would get from his classmates in the local high school. Her friend was beside herself because this was an important part of the play, although the character did not have a speaking role and only appeared in two scenes, one dressed like a boy and then dressed like a girl. She said her friend had run out of possibilities. No boy in the town or neighboring towns would agree to play the role. She said, “I know it’s asking a lot, but would you be willing to do it? You don’t live out here and no one will know who you are. She’s a really close friend and critics from New York will be here to review the play. Please do it for me.”
She saw me flushing with embarrassment, but waited. She was always extremely nice to me, especially after my mother died, so I could hardly refuse. She was looking at me with such concern on her face that I took a deep breath and finally said, “It sounds pretty stupid to me, but I will do it for you, but you can’t give her my real name.” She grabbed me and gave me a big hug and kiss and went to the phone to call her friend.
Just before dialing, she said, “What name should I use?” I thought for a moment and said, “Tom Duggan.”
My cousin Sheila, who had witnessed the scene came over to me and said, “Thanks for agreeing to do it. My mother has been sick with worry about her friend. You’re a life saver. But why not tell her friend your real name?”
I answered quickly, “I don’t want to be listed in the cast in the Playbill.”
When my aunt got off the phone, she said, ”Come with me. We have to get you your costume.” With that, my aunt, Sheila and I got into the car and drove into town to a girls’ shop that was closed, but there were people inside who let us in.
A very pretty girl about my age came over to me, all excited, and gave me a big hug and kiss, saying, “You’re saving my mother’s life.” She then introduced herself. “I’m Ginny,” she said. She said “Hi” to Sheila, who was a good friend of hers. Besides my aunt, there were three other women, all pretty and all wearing pretty dresses with full skirts. “This is my mother,” Ginny said.
The woman had tears in her eyes as she said. “Thanks so much for doing this, Tom. I can’t tell you how much it means to me. This is my sister and that is the woman who owns the shop.” Then she turned to my aunt and said, “You never told me how handsome he is. He’ll be perfect.”