This is going to sound odd, but I knew that I had become a success in my father’s eyes when he came backstage after a show in which I played several female characters and said, “Son, you probably should have put that dress on a long time ago.”
I didn’t have the nerve to tell him that I had.
The first time I wore a dress for strictly theatrical purposes was during a small-town homecoming parade of which the theme was “The States of America.” Our scout troop chose Arkansas, with me playing an Ozark lady in a rocking chair, in a just below the knee white linen dress. For the first time in my life I felt a cooling tempered autumn breeze search into a there before enclothed area of my person and let’s just say I was forever after sold on the concept.
I am not ready for retirement, but when the day comes there shall be worse ways to spend it than sitting in a rocking chair on the porch wearing a flimsy white islet dress and letting the breeze have its way with me. You men in the audience don’t have to look shocked. There’s a reason why women live longer. Just sayin’.
My reputation can stand up to just about anything, but if you are the kinds of guys who might try on something from the feminine side of the clothes rack and join me in the rocking chairs, but are still fearful of others who might tend to poo-poo your courageous fashion sense, you can either move the rocking chair to the back porch or plant a couple of rows of crepe myrtles out front to shield yourself from inquiring eyes. Trust me. When that friendly breeze makes itself known, you’ll likely feel like singing; maybe, “Candle In The Wind,” “Ride Like The Wind,” “Blowing In The Wind,” and I don’t want any tude from some Dylan freak in the balcony and if your run into Bob, tell him to spring for a bag of throat lozenges. But back to our breezy theme, my own personal favorite wind anthem is undoubtably, “The Wind Beneath My… (LONG PAUSE) Wings.”
