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Having just come through the election season, I’m feeling pretty bruised. After all, I’ve been called, by both ends of the political spectrum:
- perverted and immoral,
- a socialist, KKK member, and a Nazi,
- someone who hates America and freedom,
- a coward, idiot, and fool,
- stupid, deluded, intolerant, and heartless,
- in league with the Devil against (different versions of) God and/or his (various) “people” and “plans”,
- a disgrace, an elitist, and a despicable freeloading son of a bitch,
- part of a conspiracy to control or kill (various) people.
… and that was just friends and family.
My first response to the J.Crew media outcry was to marshal the troops and charge into action on the side of childhood queerness. I posted the original article on Facebook and waited for the comments from like-minded friends to come pouring in. One friend fulfilled my bloodlust heartily, calling any outcry against the pink polish “ridiculous” and demanding the J. Crew designers purposely paint all of the nails of all boys —and even the men!— in their ads just to drive the political point home. We’re so progressive, I thought, we can’t be wrong.
Famous last words, right?
I probably thought of having one of the beers I had bought to drink before heading to bed on a non-school day. The sun probably began to rise over Mt. Rainier, and as the rays began to creep over Hale’s Pass and the apple orchard, the sound of gravel startled me awake to face the telephone pole at the sharp turn at the end of the straightaway.
We started up the steep power line road just past the Grange. Todd put it into 4-wheel high we went careening up the rut-filled hill like a skier taking a mogul run in reverse. When the tires hit the ground gravel flew like sparks off a grinding wheel. At the top, we paused to holler and whoop for a bit. Todd was radiant.
It’s also a time when the boys determine to correct ‘pecking order’ mistakes inflicted by a their teacher during the winter. Teachers have been known to make terrible mistakes in that regard.
Spring cleaning, I’m not sure exactly when the practice began but I can be reasonably sure it had to do with getting rid of old things with lingering odors from long winter months spent inside. Once the fortunes of bad…