The Rifle Twirling Squad. It was all the rage when I (Carol) was in high school (can you guess which one is me? Answer is at the end of this blog post).

It was hard work being a rifle twirler: The practice, the drills, the tryouts, the blisters, the occasional knock on the forehead when attempting a new move, the demanding captain (her name was Polly), the hot sun, and – oh my – the white vinyl boots with red tassels. They were SO comfortable. Like wearing a pair of easy spirits. Ha. But they look cute, don’t they? Especially with the white hat.

Yes, this was my life as a 14 year old. And I’m proud to say that the invaluable skills I learned then are still serving me well today. You should see me twirl an umbrella. And a broom. And – when I can get my hands on one – a marshmallow roasting stick. It’s frighteningly awe-inspiring.

Who, me? Second from the left. Polly is far left (darn it, Polly. You were always one-up-ing me).

bottom-bottom-top-top-bottom-bottom-top-top (my preferred right-hand drill). I’ll show you sometime.