No one wants to hear about my aching, stiff and swollen joints. I know this. And yet I can’t help but put it out there. I also can’t help feeling blasé and bored. I have yet another doctors visit today and so I stayed home from work, swallowing ibuprofens the size of grapes and pretending like there’s not a sink full of dishes to be washed and a pile of clean clothes to be put away.
John dvr-ed Mad Men and we watched it yesterday while eating salad and frozen pizza. I made him pause it after the part where the Life magazine chick tells Peggy she looks ‘swellegant’ and then leans in and kisses her. We had a brief discussion about what folks back then must’ve thought about women who dressed masculine or men who were effeminate. Were they thought of as homosexual or just ‘tom-boys’ and ‘sissies’ and that’s it. Throw a label on it and go about your day. I told John about the time my sisters and I were going through Daddy’s old high school annuals and we came across a certain boy whose name my sister Wendy recognized. She asked Daddy if this boy wasn’t the same boy who had been the first known AIDS victim in our county and Daddy said that he was indeed. So we asked more questions. What he’d been like in school. Was it obvious to everyone back then that he was gay? Daddy said it just never occurred to him. That he’d played on the basketball team with him and yeah, he was a ‘fancy-boy’ and acted kind of silly but no body really cared. I guess when there’s only 30 people in your class you get used to things pretty quickly. Daddy said the first time he ever thought about anyone being gay was in about 1960 when he was 20. He’d found a job a couple of counties over and was staying at the YMCA. I know, right? He came in pretty drunk one night and was fumbling for the key to his room when a ‘fancy-boy’ strolled by him and said, “Hey big fella, how’d you like to take a trip around the world?”. Daddy said, “Hell, this is the first time I’ve ever been out of Lincoln County.”