Core of Conviction : My Story (9781101563571) by Michele Bachmann Page B

her six siblings. Grandmother was resilient, that’s for sure. She was one of the hardest working people I have ever met, she saved her pennies, and yet at the same time, she was generous and kind. Pure love. She was always a lady, but she was always strong. Indeed, she was both ladylike and strong at the same time: When she was eighty-three, she changed the snow tires on her car in her garage while wearing one of her favorite Shelton Stroller dresses. She was ever a lady!
    Meanwhile, I was working. I started babysitting; the going rate back then was fifty cents an hour. I took every babysitting job I could get, because by ninth grade, I was growing conscious of my appearance. In those days, girls had to wear dresses to public school, and if I wanted pretty dresses, I had to buy them, because Mom couldn’t afford them for me; she couldn’t afford lunch money. I remember during my parents’ divorce I asked Mom for ten cents for some activity at school. Her face was pained; she didn’t have it in her purse. So she looked through her dresser drawer and eventually found a dime, which she gave to me. After that experience, seeing the look of pain and loss on her face, I vowed to never ask her for money—or much of anything else—again. If she had had it, I knew, she would have given it to me, but clearly our lives were reduced to about as low as we could go.
    I quickly realized that expenses were piling up faster than my earning power, so I taught myself how to sew. I went to summer sidewalk sales at the local fabric store, picked up a pattern and small swatches of marked-down fabric, and then figured out how to vary the pattern so that I could make two dresses for the coming school year. But I wanted to do better. I had always been a hardworking student, but after the divorce my mother had told me, “Your education is one thing that can never be taken away from you.” Those words inspired me to work harder than ever. As they say, adversity can either break you or make you—and I was determined to make it.
    After all, I was now in high school, and I could see a path to my future life and career. In fact, I was fortunate enough to be at Anoka High. Go, Tornadoes! Anoka is the alma mater of Garrison Keillor, of
Prairie Home Companion
fame. His politics are very different from mine, but I love his gentle, knowing humor. Keillor understands Minnesota, from Lutherans to lutefisk, and his ability to squeeze laughs out of serious-minded midwesterners makes him a legend. The way he writes, it’s as though he was present at our grandmother’s Sunday table. Clearly, looking at his skill, he received a good education at Anoka—I know I did.
    Anoka High offered a wealth of academic, vocational, and extracurricular activities. I joined everything. I was in seemingly every club and every group, and I had at least a small part in every play. I knew I might not be the star, but I could always learn something and contribute something.
    But I soon settled on a big goal: the cheerleading squad. I have never been athletic or well coordinated, and yet I knew I wanted to be a cheerleader more than anything. So I practiced, practiced and practiced. I was a disaster at first, and I rehearsed my cheerleading routines in our living room with the shades down in order to avoid humiliation in case anyone saw me, even though our apartment was on the second floor! My brothers poked fun at me as I crashed around on the carpet, but I kept at it until I mastered the Anoka Tornadoes fight song:
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    Fight, fight, Anoka, fight;
    Go, go, Tornadoes!
    Win, win, maroon and white
    We’re with you tonight, Tornadoes!
    Fight, fight to victory,
    Team, team, it’s your game.
    Score, score, score and then
    Score some more
    Tornado men!
    Astonishingly I made the cheerleading squad! I even made the varsity cheerleading squad. And to top it all, I was football cheerleader. A girl who tripped, who couldn’t run, who