Tall Tales From A Wanna-Be Mousekateer

When I was seven, I tried convincing my neighborhood friends that I had been invited onto the Mickey Mouse Club to dance and play piano. I borrowed an ugly pair of white, patent-leather shoes from my sister and I gave them a show in our foyer. Then, I led them to our piano where I played Fur Elise.

My friends, much to their credit, were not convinced. Even as I tried to "prove" my lie by showing them the Mickey Mouse ears I got from Walt Disney World, they refused to believe I was ever on television, let alone on the Mickey Mouse Club.

This lie was wrong on so many levels. First off, this was a few years before the "new" Mickey Mouse Club, starring Lisa Whechel (otherwise known as "Blair" from The Facts of Life), so the only Mickey Mouse Club shows that were on the air were the black and white re-runs from the 50s, with Annette and Cubby. Second, I did nothing more than scuff my mother's foyer floor as I bumbled my way through a self-choreographed dance routine. But I could play Fur Elise as well as any seven year-old with no formal training could.

I have some theories as to why I concocted such a lie. I actually DID learn how to play Fur Elise, by ear, from watching one of those talented Mousekateers play it on the Mickey Mouse Club. But I think the main reason for my lie was that there were a lot of kids in my class who got to be on a local show called Wonderama, and I was green with envy.

Wonderama was a three hour-long variety show that aired on Sundays. Part game show, part exercise show, part American Bandstand-esque, it was a show made especially for kids, hosted by a guy named Bob McAllister who assured us with his closing song that kids were people too. Every Monday at school, it was obvious which kid got to be on Wonderama the day before, from their personalized, shellacked Lenders Bagelette necklaces. And even if they didn't bring in their goodie bags, we knew they had been rewarded with Fruit Stripe gum, RC Cola, Twinkies, an Oral B toothbrush and an issue of Dynamite Magazine. I figured, in my little seven year-old brain, that if I had told my friends I was on Wonderama, I'd have to pony up my Lenders Bagelette necklace. But since I had Mickey Mouse ears and saw that guest Mousekateers didn't receive any lovely parting gifts, I was safe in telling my fib.

I think seven year-olds are the world's worst liars!

I leave you now with a clip from Wonderama. C'mon, take a look, and tell me you're not convinced YOU'D have wanted to be on that show!