I remember wild Oklahoma storms, the smell of rain and how our dirt road looked on our kitchen floor. Our street and my life brewed a special potion for my imagination. It also dealt a healthy dose of laughter in my college years. When friends play the game, “What’s your stripper name?” I always get the best laughs. If you could win Stripper Name, I'd take it. Our street was my grandmother’s nick name. My grandfather bought the land and named it after her. I was raised on Pole Cat Ave. My lady Polecat was a woman who invested in me. She taught me that I was somebody and I believed her. She always showed up when my mother disappeared. Every little girl needs the memory of importance. Every child needs a Polecat.