And I doubt that gay folks are waiting around to hear what I'm up to as a hetero. I think we're all a bit tired of it by now and probably about as informed as we’re going to get on the subject. But this past Sunday she stepped over the line and linked gayness with oldness and me being old, my old ears perked up and I heard her say something about when this old generation moves on (paraphrasing here) the gay issue will no longer be an issue, as if to say gay folks will be able to do whatever it is they do and no one will care enough to vote on it. She’s probably right here but as a hetero I’ve had some pretty darn important issues of my own.
By the way, one of her guest panelists, who looked like she had parents about my age, began to squirm in her seat but said nothing in rebuttal. I reckon her paycheck was important enough to keep her mouth shut. I could hear her thinking, wait a minute there Ms. Perry, you're talking about my folks here!
Well, the bad news is a lot of us older folks are going to be around for quite a while and how we vote is still going to be an issue for several decades to come. I plan on outliving at least one other set of dogs and buying maybe two more cars. But, if you want to talk about sex, I can go there. Sex has always been a big part of my life, even though I’m heterosexual. I just don’t talk about it that much. But, if I did it would have all started with first grade.
I’ve known I was a boy and liked girls since then when Mrs. Mott looked good to me behind her desk at Clara Harris elementary school. That was a long time ago and I hope she’s kept herself up. When she got up to write on the old chalkboard, something we rarely see anymore, things got even better. But when her husband would come to visit, I just wasn’t interested. In the second grade it was Ms. Doran, cute brunette, blue eyes and she taught me a lot about writing cursive. I always enjoyed watching Mrs. Doran walk up and down my aisle. Can’t really say why, she just looked good it.
My grades took a tumble in grade three when I had Mrs. Evenson. She invented math and spent a lot of time reading Dr. Doolittle to us. When she wasn’t reading Doolittle she was smacking my hand with a ruler for playing with my toy soldiers. I sat in the back. My grades didn’t recover until the seventh grade when I had a wonderful teacher named Patsy Cosson. I sat on the front row with a pair of new glasses and absorbed every word that came out of that blued eyed blond’s mouth.
Seventh grade was also the year of the sex tapes we got to watch during P.E. Well, I guess by today’s standards they wouldn’t be much, but it sure beat ping pong. Another dry spell hit until grade ten. I had “Mary Tyler Moore” for English literature and became a big fan of whatever she wanted read. She was amazing in that she could cross her legs and still have both feet on the floor.
After that we started changing classes and I barely graduated. It seemed like every time I’d catch a really good teacher, the bell would ring and off we’d go to some Driver Ed coach or ancient speech teacher. So see there? We’ve all got sex issues we just don’t put them out for everybody to read. Oh; My wife does most of the driving.
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