Claudia says I know who I am. I take that as the highest compliment from the person who has had to endure all the unwelcome scrutiny I have put her through. She’s a pillar of the community. I seem to be more of a bonfire.
So I dressed up as Dorothy Gale of Kansas. On her Facebook Page, read by many members of our very sober Presbyterian Church, Claudia hinted that the person soon to wear the ruby slippers (my old sneakers) really was from Kansas. I was born in Arkansas City, Kansas in 1950. While a lot of fellows would shrink at the thought of putting on a dress I’m not a lot of fellows. One of my earliest memories of men dressed as women was the Movie/Musical South Pacific. I wonder if that wasn’t the first use of coconut shells as faux braziers? Since then there have been a lot of World War II movies showing the sex starved GI’s and sailors dressed up as women in USO type shows. One of the guys in the gritty Stalag 17 did so too.
I found this picture in a blog post about cross dressing in Hollywood that says a lot more about the subject than I ever imagined writing.
I was thinking about my Dad and humor and ego as I began this. In a lot of ways my Dad had a tin ear for humor. As a kid I would tell him jokes from a book of jokes for kids. Even then I imagined myself as a comedian. I was always discouraged that he didn’t find them funny. They were in the book for God’s sake! They were supposed to be funny! I don’t know if I ever saw Dad laugh at a joke. He told me he enjoyed the absurd. He also told me that his father liked humor that was intended to puncture pretentious and pompous egos. The First Harry Welty, my Grandfather, thought Laurel and Hardy shorts were hilarious because poor old Hardy was as pompous as they got and he always got a comeuppance.
I guess this is just a reminder to my eight loyal readers that I am always my first target where ego is concerned. I might point needles at other people’s balloons but I’ve got a Bunsen burner under my balloon. Its just that I’ve taken the precaution of building my balloon with a hole in the bottom center so that the hot air will keep me aloft rather than blow me up.
I don’t necessarily distrust folks who resist self deprecation. I just worry that they lack the kind of humility that is necessary to work with their inferiors – folks like me. If they don’t watch out the joke will be on them.
