The Phantom Party

I guess now’s a good a time as any to share with you a little bit of distressing news, though voluntary, it’s still distressing news.

We are not going to Provincetown this year; the first time in 22 years. With all the work that is and will be going on with the house, we decided it was best to be around, plus the money we’d save would go towards paying off that work.

I keep saying it over and over to people and so far it comes out as just words, emotionless words. I don’t know if that will hold true by the time the 4th of July rolls around and we’re not on the deck at Boatslip watching the fireworks and listening to Kate Smith’s “God Bless America”, huddled with our friends, trying not to spill drinks on each other and take pictures at the same time. And it still kind of early in the season for my internal clock to start ticking down the weeks and days till vacation time is near. I start subconsciously “seeing” myself walking down Commercial Street, or standing in line to get to tea dance.

It’s hard to imagine that anything really happens when we’re not there anyway, kind of like that age old question: if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Sure it does and I have Twilight Zone-ish proof. Well, each year, we go at the same time and we’ve made so many friends and have so many acquaintances and even see the same faces of people that we don’t really know, year after year, that it’s kind of like going “home” for one week out of the summer. Some we hang out with, some we merely acknowledge with a quick catch up of what’s been going on since the summer before, but it’s comforting to have those same people around every time.

One time, though, the way the holiday and our schedule fell, we ended up staying a day or so after “everybody” left. It was literally as though we were in a dream state, watching total strangers picking up where “we” left off, enjoying our vacation, dancing like a impenetrable wall on the dance floor to the same music we were jumping around to just a day before. It was like the place where everybody knew our name, ceased to exist for us, our allotted time was up.

But, it’s only going to be a temporary thing. We’ll be back next year, I’m sure. And in the meantime, we’ll still have our camping weekends to look forward to. And already, it started yesterday while I was embroiled in a heavy, heavy workload, I “saw” us driving and cresting that last hill before that hairpin turn that leads us to the campground. That’s a good feeling.

Now how’s this for a switch? Maybe you’ve heard about the lawsuit filed by three softball players in Seattle? The North American Gay Amateur Athletic Alliance deemed those three, Steven Apilado, LaRon Charles and Jon Russ were not gay enough. According to the suit, the three bisexual men say the team, D2, that had advanced to the championship game, was in violation of a league rule permitting no more than “two heterosexual” players on a team. After that game, which the team ended up losing, the three men were interviewed separately in front of a panel of 25 people in a “hearing”. They say they were forced to answer “highly personal and intrusive questions” to determine whether their predominant proclivity was toward men or toward women and at one point it is alleged one of them was told “This is the Gay World Series, not the Bisexual World Series”. So, you know what? Start your own league and move on.

Gay or straight, great moments in baseball don’t get any better than this. Whether the runner was tagged out or not is up for debate, but from the looks of it, the catcher didn’t complete his reach as the runner tumbled over him.


And can you believe it was 10 years ago today that Elian Gonzalez was seized by a SWAT team from his relatives in Florida and returned to his father in Cuba?

Bad news for the newts last night. If only this were a few weeks ago, one of them would have been right!

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