I was born in Rochester, New York, at 1:17pm on June 13, 1951. I was the youngest of three children. I think my arrival was a surprise for my parents because my brother is nine years older than I am, and my sister five.
In those days this was a fairly long time frame between kids. Add to that, my dear brother always taunted me with “You’re adopted! You’re adopted!” when I was as little as three or four, and, well, I kind of felt like I was an accident. The next rude trick of fate was that they named me Dale. I never, ever, felt this was my name.
I’ve been told that my brother named me after, of course, Dale Evans. Yikes! I was named after a cowgirl from a popular Saturday morning kids show who had a horse named Buttercup! My whole life has been overshadowed by this. First, kids made fun of me in school because I was Roy Roger’s wife. Then kids would taunt me about my horse being called Buttercup.
As an adult I ran into problems, because before people met me they would think I was a man. Or worse, when I’d call about credit card information or billing, I’d often be asked to put my husband Dale on the phone. Or when I’d use my credit card I’d get questioned with, “Is this your husband’s credit card?” This would elicit a huge rant on my part about being a proud, single, and self-sufficient woman named Dale, thank you very much.
In those days this was a fairly long time frame between kids. Add to that, my dear brother always taunted me with “You’re adopted! You’re adopted!” when I was as little as three or four, and, well, I kind of felt like I was an accident. The next rude trick of fate was that they named me Dale. I never, ever, felt this was my name.
I’ve been told that my brother named me after, of course, Dale Evans. Yikes! I was named after a cowgirl from a popular Saturday morning kids show who had a horse named Buttercup! My whole life has been overshadowed by this. First, kids made fun of me in school because I was Roy Roger’s wife. Then kids would taunt me about my horse being called Buttercup.
As an adult I ran into problems, because before people met me they would think I was a man. Or worse, when I’d call about credit card information or billing, I’d often be asked to put my husband Dale on the phone. Or when I’d use my credit card I’d get questioned with, “Is this your husband’s credit card?” This would elicit a huge rant on my part about being a proud, single, and self-sufficient woman named Dale, thank you very much.