“They’re coming! They’re coming!” How exciting it is to hear those welcomed words. We forget how hot and steamy we’ve become and wait eagerly for the first sight and sound of the approaching climax of the morning, the parade.
What a grand event this year celebrating our long dreamed of freedom to marry. The LGBT community and its supporters will be marching happier and prouder than ever. The straight crowd, bigger every year, enjoys cheering them on while the loving, concerned for our souls, Christians have a harder and harder time getting anyone to pay attention to their ranting.
I love the floats. Call me crazy, but the go-go guys always get my attention. I think it is the feathers.
No, that’s the drag queens. Oh well, with all that swinging and swaying, something catches my eye.
What I don’t like are the trucks pretending to be floats with nothing but a pitiful rainbow ribbon on the antenna. The drivers are not even cute! On the other hand, the flamboyant empresses, queens and princesses are always stunningly beautiful. Last year a young, drunk jock near me said he couldn’t believe the gorgeous girls were lesbians. I said I bet if he asked one to have a drink and turned on the charm; he could turn her back to men. Several nearby Hillcresters backed me up and one kindly offered to introduce him to one of the “girls,” so off they went. Hope he had a good time. And you too. Get your tickets early. See you there.
Boy Scout star
Congratulations to the local Eagle Scout who earned all 135 badges and now heads off to college. No doubt an enthusiastic welcome awaits him as a troop leader once he graduates as a musical theater major.
With recent Scouting headlines, I checked the Internet about the founder, Lord Baden-Powell. There was much information relating to his bravery and honors as a war hero, but not so much about his whispered private life. Impossible to confirm due to the times and his reputation as a hero, but lavender rumors have persisted to the present. Much is made of the fact he married at 55(!) and it was soon generally known that sleeping with his wife brought on such mental and emotional stress his doctor ordered him to have a separate bedroom. That his main concern, if not passion, was not for his wife, but for the young men of England is a continuing speculation.
My own Scouting consisted of two ghastly years as a Tenderfoot learning those stupid knots for no rational purpose. Our leader was a crypto-nazi if there ever was one. On the camping weekend he had us endure endless calisthenics at dawn, tugs of war, football, running up hill and, of course, making a fire without matches: always a laugh (everyone cheated). He scoffed at my idea of a flower and butterfly stroll for the nature badge. Likewise, ridicule followed my basket making suggestion. I almost froze in my home-made sleeping bag until one of the older boys said I could share his. He then taught me what he swore was the secret way the Sherpa guides in the Himalayas kept warm. I’ve been grateful ever since.
