Wednesday, June 15, 2005

THE SCENE: A tiny church in a valley of the gorgeous Blue Ridge mountains.

THE CHARACTERS: There were plenty, believe me. But all very nice, salt-of-the-earth types. All ten of them.

THE REASON: My parents dragged my family to this church they have found near their vacation home. It is totally quaint and pretty on the outside...small steeple, whitewashed, picnic shelter outside. Inside it is small and stinky. And, as I've said, full of characters.

Of course I teared up inside - I always tear up at church. I don't think it is the spirit moving me as much as a rare chance for me to sit down for an hour with my thoughts. But who wouldn't be moved by the sweet woman saying they only needed $15 more dollars to get ice cream for the 20 kids who would attend Vacation Bible School? Especially when one's own church's Vacation Bible School is a tightly-run behemoth of a week, complete with sub-staffs, committees, huge budgets, and crafts that require manuals and vats of supplies from Michael's.

So the mountain church experience wasn't all bad. And the sermon had a few nice moments. I could tell my husband kind of got into it. The verse they referenced was about doing like Jesus did, even to the least of these. Clothing the naked, etc. And hey - that's what it is all about, right? Well, that and going to heaven to live forever with your Lord and Savior.

Then the preacher came to chat with us and express his disbelief that anyone could live in Raleigh, the epicenter of legislative excess and evil. He himself had lived in lots of metropolises, but was so happy to be here in this charming small town. After all, he had lived for a long time in San Francisco, and....

WE SHOULD HAVE STOPPED HIM RIGHT HERE.

Why didn't we? We knew where this was leading. My husband and I, with our classic good looks and easy casual style, along with our two Hitler Youth, are the picture of the Southern American Family. (Except that I eschew mongramming and we have two kids, not three or one, which is more in vogue these days). So of course the guy felt totally at ease when he said,

"San Francisco has a different type of person there. It all started with the flower children in the 60s, and now there are just thousands of people there living what I like to call a 'perverted lifestyle', you know,

HOMOS."

Silence. Wide eyes. Internal discussions between the young husband and wife team each urging the other not. to. say. a. word.

"Really!"

Silence.

"Really, they have lots of homos!"

"So, Mr. ____, don't you just love the mountains so much more? It is really gorgeous here."

HAAAANK HAAANK HAAANK DISASTER AVERTED

I think the best part of the whole exchange is that the guy used the word HOMOS, which is actually quite popular with many of my gay heroes. Is this guy reading Trent? Is he researching this 'perverted lifestyle'? Is he learning more and more about fun places to go and people to see in his old haunt of San Fran?

No, I know. He just couldn't bring himself to say the word "sexual".

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