Another May Day has come and gone without dancing around a Maypole. But there was a day. Oh yes, there was a day. . . .
It was May 1st, 1971, and I was in 3rd grade at Burnt Chimney Elementary School in Wirtz, Virginia, site of many an early childhood nightmare memory. We were all gussied up in our spring best for the school’s annual May Day celebration. My teacher Mrs. English, a dour schoolmarm with wrinkled skin who believed that Neil Armstrong’s moonwalk was an elaborate NASA hoax, paced and frowned from the sideline.
All our parents were there, too, not just the stay-at-home moms, but also the dads who somehow got the day off from their jobs even though it was the middle of the week and were now standing there with their space-age Bell & Howell 8mm home movie cameras ready to capture the moment.… Read the rest
I first heard the term “Birth Control Glasses” or “BCGs” in the early 1990s when I started practicing optometry with the US Government. I was around 30 years old, married, with two sons and one on the way. Fortunately, I had already “spread my seed.”
Because if I hadn’t, I feel sure that merely touching those brown, butt-ugly, godawful, googly-eyed monsters would have struck me impotent. When I first laid eyes on them, I understood immediately why a whole generation of young men had dodged the draft and sought refuge in Canada.
For decades, military-issue eye wear has been as much a rite of passage for new recruits as screaming drill sergeants, 5:00 AM PT and MREs.… Read the rest
And now that I have your attention, allow me to explain (you bunch of sickos!).
I’m not talking about Sigmund Freud’s infamous Oedipus complex. I’m talking about that annual rite of passage known as theSports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue which has landed in mailboxes across this great land of opportunity each February for decades, about the time pitchers and catchers report, and the ensuing tug-of-war between those great sentinels of chastity and virtue, Moms, and those eager students of human anatomy, their sons.
I received my first Sports Illustrated subscription in 1974 in sixth grade–for the articles, of course. Talk about perfect timing!… Read the rest
“We were watching the soccer match,” Eyegal explained to the desk clerk at the historic Park View Guest House in the Garden District of New Orleans last Friday morning.
The US v. Slovenia match had ended just a few minutes before the 11:00 AM checkout time, but we had planned ahead and had our bags packed and ready to go. The “good” US National Team had taken the pitch in the 2nd half after the “bad” one, the U-10 squad that had showed up by mistake, had gone down 0-2 in the first.
Yet the 2-2 draw to stay alive in Group C play had left both of us a bit frustrated.… Read the rest
The opening match of World Cup 2010 is underway, and in a desperate attempt to bring “The Beautiful Game” to the attention of my more unwashed American readers, I played the sex card and came up with a splashy, tabloid headline.
Most residents in the nursing home where I worked during college had long since given up on any more hanky-panky and directed their remaining physical and mental energies toward more fundamental aspects of survival, such as chewing slowly without choking and making sure they didn’t throw off their pacemakers by getting a little too close to the microwave.
But there were a few who were hanging on tight and had a reputation for being real pistols. Especially that retired banker who use to “make his rounds” each day as he slowly pushed his walker from one nurse’s station to another.… Read the rest
And, once again, they left off the first paragraph in the online edition. For the record, here it is:
“Another Valentine’s Day rolls around, and my mind is drawn back to 1976–and Annie. I sang her song, and it didn’t matter that she was John Denver’s wife because it wasn’t really about her.”
I don’t know why they keep leaving off the first paragraph. I’ll have to ask the editor about that. Fortunately, the print edition was fine, and they even used one of the pictures they had taken instead of the first one I sent in, the one Eyegal calls my “terrorist” passport photo.… Read the rest
Just a reminder for those of you in the Huntsville area, my 2nd Sunday column will appear in the Forum section of The Huntsville Times this week. I’ll post a link to the online edition as soon as it’s available.
This one will contain many embarrassing tidbits from my past (and present), flashes of 1970s nostalgia, sexual innuendo galore, the usual soaring prose laced with biting humor, Eyegal in all her beauty, glorious, never-before-seen metaphors along with a salute (sort of) to a certain upcoming holiday. All kinds of scandalous stuff, really.
Eyegal and I love each other a lot. If you read that Washington Post article from yesterday, you’ll know what I mean when I say that we’re cruising along, kicking up a fair amount of oxytocin with some frequent dopamine now and then to spice things up. In short, I ain’t complainin’ and neither is she (I hope).
But when it comes to the whole Valentine Day’s thing, we just refuse to get too worked up after nearly 22 years of raising kids and romance-in-the-trenches. In days of yore, we used to knock ourselves out, buying the cards, roses, lacy teddies and tacky boxers, etc.… Read the rest
From the oldest of times, people danced for a number of reasons. They danced in prayer or so their crops would be plentiful… They danced to stay physically fit and to show their community spirit. And they danced to celebrate, and that is the dancing we are talking about. Aren’t we told in Psalms 149, ‘Praise ye the Lord, sing unto the Lord a new song, Let them praise his name in dance.’ It was king David that we read about in Samuel, and what did he do? He ‘danced before the Lord with all of his might, leaping and dancing’… Ecclesiastes assures us that ‘there is a time for every purpose under heaven.’
Another crowd of souls is led in their wantonness to abandon themselves to clumsy motions, to dance and sing, and form rings of dancers. Finally, raising their haunches and hips, they float along with a tremulous motion of the loins.
Social dance–a major category or classification of danceforms or dance styles, where sociability and socializing are the primary focuses of the dancing.
Since the early days of the church, Christians, such as Arnobius, have struggled to make peace with the reality that they must live their lives in material bodies, complete with urges, instincts and natural cycles and rhythms.… Read the rest
If you’re like me, your workplace allows “Casual Friday,” a day of reprieve from those constricting ties and starchy dress shirts. However, as I sit here contemplating which polo shirt I’ll wear with my khakis today, these passages from Lauren Winner’s book Real Sex give me pause:
Casual Fridays, I think, capture some of our society’s confusion about clothes. Professional workplaces have dress codes in part because managers know that how we dress shapes our behavior. If we dress up, if we dress professionally, we are more likely to behave professionally, to treat others with respect and be treated likewise. A few years ago, when employers all over corporate America said employess could dress down on the last day of the work week, workers were thrilled.