If you’re about my age, it’s possible you watched a CBS Television production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Cinderella.”  It was first broadcast in 1957; it was remade by CBS in 1965 and broadcast 8 times through 1974.  I watched the 1965 version, perhaps in 1972 or 1974.

The songs were lovely and magical; very Rodgers and Hammerstein.  Think “South Pacific” or “Oklahoma.”  My favorite song was “Impossible: It’s Possible,” sung by Cinderella and Fairy Godmother.  It went like this:

“Impossible for a plain yellow pumpkin to become a golden carriage.
Impossible for a plain country bumpkin and a prince to join in marriage.
And four white mice will never be four white horses.
Such fol-de-rol and fiddle dee dee of course is
Impossible!
But the world is full of zanies and fools who don’t believe in sensible rules and won’t believe what sensible people say
And because these daft and dewy-eyed dopes keep building up impossible hopes
Impossible things are happening every day!”

Cinderella’s story stuck in my head for a long time and I pursued many avenues to have a magical princess-like existence.  I worked hard, joined clubs, and watched what I ate.  I even went to fancy parties where I could wear ball gowns, eat expensive pieces of chicken, and dance into the night.  It took a lot of work to look like a princess.  It was even harder trying to be one.  In fact, most of the time, it was impossible.

There is nothing wrong with being a princess.  Don’t tell anyone, but my mother is a little bit on the fancy side, what with her spring gloves and her tact lectures.  I’m glad she’s the Carnival King of ‘51’s queen.  It works for her and she’s taught me enough queenly good sense to leave my muddy boots outside of her castle and keep my mouth zipped on certain occasions.  I wish I had remembered her important lessons at certain times when I was not being regal.  I can hear her voice in my head right now as she says “If it were me, I would not put a picture of myself wearing a tiara on the internet.  It’s not polite to be too full of yourself.”

Gulp.

(There is no picture of me in a tiara and a ball gown RIGHT HERE.  I’m listening to my mother’s queenly voice.)

As I’ve gotten older and hopefully wiser, it seems more plausible and possible to accomplish simpler things.  I’m not saying I won’t ever wear a ball gown and eat an expensive piece of chicken with an asparagus spear.  It’s just that these days, the only pumpkin coach I want is an old tractor.  I want a solid pair of work boots that won’t give me a bunion because they’re too small and have pointy toes and high heels.  I want to grow my own food; lots of tomatoes, potatoes, and maybe a few big pumpkins, bright orange like a pair of Moxie shoes.

Legend has it that Frank’s sister found these shoes somewhere in a kingdom far, far away and sent them to the store.  A lot of people have tried to wear them, but so far, they haven’t fit anyone perfectly.  It’s possible that there’s a Moxie princess out there somewhere, just waiting to find her shoes.

Maybe it’s you.

To find out if you’re a princess, please join me at The Moxie Store on Saturday, May 5, 2012 from 2:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m.  The store is located at 2 Main St., Lisbon Falls, Maine; right on the corner of Route 196 and Main St., across from the old Worumbo Mill.

If you don’t want to be a princess, my brother will be there, signing his recently released book “Moxie: Maine in a Bottle.”  Tact be damned!  This is one thing I can’t keep my mouth zipped about because it’s a wicked good book and my brother’s a prince of a guy.

In Lisbon Falls, there’s still a little magic left in Moxie and impossible things are happening every day.

It’s possible!