The Ugly Duckling


I was born with one lung not working and was promptly whisked away to an incubator. Age two, I got scarlet fever and my parents worried I might not survive. Age three I was fully cross-eyed. But I did not (as yet) have an inferiority complex. I was very happy-go-lucky. Chatting it up all the time with my imaginary friends and all.

Oprah tells this story about herself, a lot. A random woman walked up to her in church one day and commented on her bee-stung lips. She had paid her a compliment on her beauty that was long overdue. Until then, no one had noticed any beauty in Oprah and it meant so much to her that she found the woman, this white woman, many years later and thanked her.

During my cross-eyed period, when I was old enough to be cognizant, people, random people on the street, would turn their heads to look at my brother Alan. He was adorable. They might even comment on his fetching looks, then look back at me and not say a word. Not a word. It would kill me; my fragile little ego, so wounded by a random stranger. And I would wait until I got home to cry from the sting of not being noticed as beautiful.

My mother would look me in the eyes, those crossed eyes with their hideous glasses, and say, “By the time you are 16,” yes, she nailed the number down — not 15, not 18, but at 16 “you will be prettier than them all.” Uh huh. I thought that the crystal ball she was looking into was on crack (and there wasn’t even crack yet). Or perhaps, it was gazing into the far distant future and seeing my drop-dead, gorgeous daughter Augie.

my gorgeous daughter Augie!!!!

One memory that held so much power for me that I ended up having an intense dream about it more than 30 years later, was of my classmate Debi Genson’s mother, a fashion model, who was asked by our grammar school to choose a few girls to model clothes. It might have been at Saks Fifth Avenue. She chose her daughters — and she chose me. What I can’t ever forget is how it affected my self worth. And Debi’s mom was a very close friend of my dad’s, so I also knew on some level that nepotism was involved. But I chose to believe that she saw the real beauty in me. Or that future beauty that my mother had predicted.

One day, after my brief modeling stint, my terrible 1950’s eyeglasses fell off my face on the school playground during recess. I looked down and stared at that wretched symbol of my ugliness. And I proceeded to stomp on them. To bits. Once I started, I didn’t stop until they could not be salvaged. I went home not wearing glasses and told my mother they broke on the schoolyard. And I never wore eyeglasses again, not a day in my life. About a week after I crushed them, I was walking down the hall and Erik Gibson, our tall, popular Nordic jock looked me in the eyes (now, sans specs) and exclaimed, “Wow, Fredde, you’re actually really pretty!” He meant it, you could tell.

Once, when I was in the 8th grade, looking more like I was in 5th, I was sporting this great Twiggy haircut and stepping out of a private athletic club near Wilshire on Roxbury where I’d ducked in for an emergency bathroom break (I know, TMI). Anyway, Ryan O’ Neal stops me for a moment to flirt. He was definitely flirting. I came home to brag about it to my mother.

Things turned out pretty well. I didn’t transform overnight into a beautiful swan but I did grow into the proverbial girl next door. And I turned that into a bit of a money-maker. I landed all the girl-next-door parts in national television commercials.

I took home economics at Beverly High but couldn’t tell you I learned anything. I did however eat some good things that I guess we baked. I probably teamed up with someone who did all the work. One day, when I was that magic age of 16, I brought these cookie/bars home and my mother flipped for them and kept the recipe. She made these for us and all of our friends for the rest of her too short life.

my gorgeous mom, Evelyn!!!!

Evelyn Duke’s “home ec bars”

1 stick butter melted
(If you don’t have a microwave just put the butter in a sauce pan on a low heat)
1 1/2 cups Graham Crackers – crushed
(I like to put crackers in a plastic bag and use a rolling pin to crush)

Mix the butter and graham crackers together and press in a 13 x 9 pan

LAYER THE FOLLOWING:

1 (6 oz.) bag chocolate chips
1 (6 oz. ) bag Butterscotch chips
6 oz. sweetened coconuts
1 cup chopeed pecans or walnutts
1 can sweetened condensed milk (pour evenly over the layers)

Bake 1/2 hour at 350 degrees. Cool before you cut in bars….Enjoy!!!!!!!!
1 stick butter melted
(If you don’t have a microwave just put the butter in a sauce pan on a low heat)
1 1/2 cups Graham Crackers – crushed
(I like to put crackers in a plastic bag and use a rolling pin to crush)

Mix the butter and graham crackers together and press in a 13 x 9 pan

LAYER THE FOLLOWING:

1 (6 oz.) bag chocolate chips
1 (6 oz. ) bag Butterscotch chips
6 oz. sweetened coconuts
1 cup chopeed pecans or walnutts
1 can sweetened condensed milk (pour evenly over the layers)

Bake 1/2 hour at 350 degrees. Cool before you cut in bars….Enjoy!!!!!!!!

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20 Responses to “The Ugly Duckling”

  1. Alan Duke says:

    Being called “Cute” was always the bane of my existence. “Tall dark and handsome”? Not happening for me in this life. You, on the other hand, were always the “star”, the “personality”, the “beauty” and the “live one” of the family. You not only survived this very short awkward period in elementary school, you stepped on the big stage and you “killed the people”, as Duke would say.

    Make me some of those home ec bars.

    Alan

  2. Renee Sherman says:

    Love Love LOVE this post-story, recipe, video, all of it! Thanks again Fredde, for sharing your life with us all!

  3. Oh Duke – you were always SOOOOOOO cute!!! Even with those glasses. I love that Debi’s Mom picked you. Perfect – She was such a beauty and so lovely inside and out!!! Just like Debi!!! Anyway – another great memory and great story! Thank you for starting my day with a smile!!! Luv ya! C

  4. Janet Petkin says:

    Always touching and interesting. Your brother’s comments brought tears to my eyes.

  5. debi fries says:

    Oh how I loved/love this story. You were always beautiful and my mom saw that shining exuberance early on. I always considered myself a bit of an ugly duckling back then as well!! We have grown into our magnificent selves and how lucky we are to be connected to one another. Your writing is just as gorgeous and spirited as you are.

  6. Doreen says:

    So this is why you’re so deep, soulful, kind, and empathetic….and not the stuck up bitch I always thought you should have been. The turd is often the blessing. I love you. Great piece!!!

  7. Kim says:

    Love that piece! And those are my absolute favorite sweets in the world. I had them the first time from your mom I believe. Thanks Fredde.

  8. Jennifer Dudley arbaugh says:

    It appears one of the very few things we DON’T have in common is height! I was born with tangled legs, wore casts with a bar between that was hung up at night, lazy eye , patch and glasses. frizzy red hair, too many freckles ..BUT, You and I have PRESENCE… Guess the ducklings get allllll the charm..
    JDA still in Charlevoix

  9. You’re the coolest Fredde. I feel like I know the kid in you so well because you have retained all the best parts of being childlike. It almost embarrasses me how hot I think that commercial is. Yeah. I should probably erase that last bit. You rock.

  10. Barbara Dudley says:

    I love what you write and I love how you look…I had no idea when we grew up that you had such talent as a writer or an interest in cooking…I did however know you were always beautiful…

  11. Mitch Waldow says:

    Love that Clairol spot and Eric was indeed a great guy. You do such a great job of tying together the stories and recipes — very clever.
    BTW, I think that somewhere in or under a stack of tapes I have a reel that includes a NY Bell commercial that you’re in. I think it’s you. We could have a film festival of Beverly kids who did tv/movie work. Even my son did a movie and some tv before he lost interest in the business. Still gets residuals, though.

  12. It’s funny how one person’s comment can make such a huge impact on your life. You are adorable. Love the vintage Clairol video. I’m going to have to try that recipe a.s.a.p.! Sounds delish!

  13. Augie Duke says:

    This is such a beautiful piece, It shows the vulnerability in you That i myself absolutely love.. Love you amazing mother with so much talent…

  14. pauli moss says:

    Your words are like a gentle rain Fredde. Nourishing, refreshing and definitely good for the soul. How we all longed to be superficially beautiful in high school. You definitely made it to Swanhood.

  15. Paul Gibson says:

    Thanks, Fredde. It was good to read about my Nordic jock brother….. and to read a nicely written story about those oh so vulnerable years….

  16. JohnAdled says:

    Excellent post! Really loved it, havent seen an artice this good in a while.

  17. Christel Chesney says:

    Hi There,
    Our family met your lovely daughter Augie last Wesnesday evening while we were dining at Nine Thirty restaurant.

    What an incredible daughter you have. I wanted to adopt her. Not only is drop dead gorgeous, brilliant, but so loving. My five year old granddaughter Blythe just fell in love with her. Well, our whole family did.

    As I read your blog I see where she gets her talent and smashing looks.

    As a Mother I thought you should know what a fantastic adult she is. You did good.

    Love you blog too!

    Best,
    Christel Chesney

  18. Nicole Foos says:

    So loved reading this, and you are the cutest thing ever in that commercial!

  19. Laura Plotkin says:

    SO sweet, Fredde! Thanks for another great story and another great recipe!!!

  20. Yocheved Yvette Lettich says:

    Fredde, your story warmed my heart.
    But funny, I always envied your natural beauty.
    And thank you for mentioning Debi Genson’s mom. I loved her — she was always so kind. Thanks for the memories…

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