I guess they named the area around here “The Inland Empire” because it sounds better than “Baking-in-the-Desert Land” But the heat could not dent the joy of a visit from my friend Andrea today. Thank-you my darling, for so much.
However, the heat has got me—and everyone else here—a bit cranky. I’ve been in a largely gay cocoon for years. Have straight men always been this annoying? Yesterday, 3 minor incidents begged this question.
Since we had mandatory yard because of inspection. I found myself wilting in one of the few grassy shaded areas of the yard. I had my t-shirt off and was sitting on it. Suddenly I noticed a chunky white fellow standing over me. I looked up from my dog-eared copy of “US News and World Report” and he had the gall to ask me if “that t-shirt might be big enough for the both of us.” (Believe me, this was not a romantic overture. At the same time I doubt he would have asked it of a straight guy. How did he know I was gay, or did he even know it, as he was someone I had never met before? It usually takes a paragraph or two of my David Hyde-Pierce mode of expression before people guess, or so I think). What was much worse than him asking the question, was me answering, “Yeah, sure.” Part of this was due to my legendary inability to say “no,” the other part has to do with my prison-honed fear of saying “no.” As he sat there, hogging the shirt and way too close to me, I started to fume, mostly at myself. I finally just said “I’m going for a walk,” and he grudgingly moved his rump enough for me to extract my t-shirt. I then tried to act as if I truly wanted to embark on a little stroll into the 101 degree sun.
I see now the Devil wanted me to experience my 2nd run in with idiocy. I was lucky to find the only other sliver of shade on the yard, underneath some slats that cover a bench next to the cement blacktop where some exercise equipment is located. I had no sooner laid my butt on the bench than the “paisa” (latin) to my right asked if he could “check out” my magazine. In my head, I answered with dripping sarcasm: “Now gee, I know we’re going to be stuck out in the broiling sun for an hour, and I bring a magazine. Do you think maybe I actually brought it along to read myself? Do you? Do you?” But do I say this to him? No! I respond with “sure” and hand him my magazine. (Truth be told, I did have my Walkman on and didn’t really mind having to listen to the NPR weekend movie reviews, but still.)
Then, last night, even I couldn’t resist checking out the end of the season football game between the New England Patriots and the Indianapolis Colts. No, I don’t care a whit about football, but in an effort to be “one of the guys,” I had joined a football betting pool ($35 jackpot, or 175 soups) and wanted to see if I chose my first game winner correctly.
Now, take note that neither of the two teams are California teams, so no one was rooting for a “home” team. But clearly, each of the men watching had a favorite, and the degree to which they were personally invested in the fortune of “their” team astonished me. The “oohs” and “ahhs” of anticipation and disappointment rivaled those at a bullfight. At one point there was a fumble recovered by the opposing team, and cheers erupted. Directly in front of me two black guys embraced. Yes it was a backslapping, one-handed embrace, but it looked to be a more heartfelt expression of affection than that I’ve witnessed between two bunkies who have lived on top of each other for six months when one is released. The celebration by the winning team’s fans when the game was over was such that you would have thought a little girl had just pulled from a well after being trapped there for 36 hours.
I did overhear something very telling though. One of the viewers, to no one in particular, exclaimed: “We did it!” WE did it. This doesn’t need much explanation, does it? My late dear old father (whose wisdom grows in retrospect with each passing month) used to quote a favorite French proverb: “Tout comprendre, c’est tout pardonner,” To understand all is to forgive all.
If my dear Andrea can understand and forgive me (and there was much to forgive), I guess I can understand and forgive these bozos.
MCO 2004
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