When I was a young girl, my parents built their first (and only) home in a freshly developed neighborhood with freshly developed people.
Everything was buttoned-up, shiny, and happyhappyhappy.
Most of the Moms stayed home (not mine) and the Dad’s went to work (not often enough).
Sure, the streets were tar-n-chip, but the houses were new, with big yards and garages. Some families even had air-conditioning, a few had above-ground pools, and we had a asphalt driveway…. Ooooooh.
Our streets were filled with young children on speedy new bikes, our dogs running wild, and the occasional cross dresser.
Yes. You read that right.
It was like Ozzie & Harriet in our neck-o-the-woods (except Ozzie liked silk stockings and Harriet’s high hells… and Harriet was sleeping with the neighbor, and the milk man, and the postman).
But that’s not all Boys and Girls!
We had an odd bachelor ‘brother-pair’ that delivered fresh eggs and offered rides in their truck in exchange for rolling eggs between your legs (I found this out the hard way), a cross-dressing stern spinster named Miss Guest (you bet she was) who wore the most spectacular men’s suits I have ever seen in my whole damn life and could play a mean game of poker (or was it poke her?), one young neighbor boy dying of leukemia (his parents just said he was constantly suffering from mumps- like for eight years), a husband who hung himself off his basement pipes, Saturday night ‘Key’ parties, one girl that was being sexually abused by her polio-stricken father, two young lesbian friends and a slew of gay boys (which always made the game of ‘Bull Rush‘ a do-over ’cause ‘you guys aren’t playing right ya big fat babies! Really! The bushes- again!’)
Oh the 60’s.
What a time of discovery. [sigh]
So it was with nostalgic delight, that just yesterday, I happened upon a Man/Girl at my local grocer’s, perusing the fresh fruit with such abandon that I had to pause:
“That fruit does smell wonderful”, said I, head gently nodding and eyes mist-filled.
“It does. I just have to have some. But I only brought my bicycle, and look at all I’ve got in my buggy, will you? I’m just mad for the produce this time of year.”
“Do you have a basket on your bike?”
“Why no I don’t. I’ll just have to hang on to it.”
“How close do you live?”
“Oh, about as close to the edge as I can get.” teheeee
“Just a few blocks over.”
“Would you like a lift? You can leave your bike for now.”
“Would you? Oh, I don’t want to bother you.”
“Okay, but don’t you think your skirt might get caught in the spokes?”
“One can only hope.”
|I didn’t want to ask to photograph him
but I did get his bike!