Going Pink by Ricky

Going Pink

    This is an interesting keyword topic for this week’s writing assignment.  It has provided me with hardly any memories to get some “story traction” or points-of-departure from which to expand upon.  I told three members of this group that I would probably write something that would turn everyone’s ears pink when I read it to them.  Of course, they laughed because they “knew” me well enough that I would not do that, but then they also know me well enough that I am spontaneously unpredictable when it comes to humor and joking around.  So, maybe there is enough doubt in their minds about whether or not I would really do it.  Well, the answer is…Yes!  I did write one that will turn any listener’s or reader’s ears pink; even hot pink.  Therefore, with that forewarning and, my apologies to the ladies present, here goes.  Oh wait, I just can’t say these pink ear producing words out loud so, I’ll just let you read the story for yourself, if you dare.

One Day in the Woods

     One day when I was 13, I was walking in the woods when I came upon two #$%%xs who were doing the most amazing things to each other using their  )(&@#+!   #$#((& and  $#@$#@.  Some of their actions were funny like when they *&^^),   ^x@#$@, and  (&(^*%#!@#.  Other things they did, like

--C E N S O R E D by SAGE--  were just  @$%**#&%@+.   !#$@$,   @^^%*(&,   @!@%^%, and *&*%$#@  were highly sensual and  **&*%&^$#.  Eventually, they %#&**^@) and invited me to join them next time I was in the woods. 

The ^%$$)&@!> End

     Growing up at South Lake Tahoe was a real treat.  My first summer, I was my step-father’s deck hand on his 38 foot cabin cruiser which he used to conduct all-day tours around the lake.  After that summer, it was just nice to live in the clear mountain air, play in the woods with my peers, and eventually to live in a house, which was surrounded by woods with our next neighbor being several hundred yards distant.  That location I usually describe as “like living in the middle of Central Park in New York City.”  But for all that mountain splendiferous environment, we led basically a lower middle-class existence.

     As a result, we could not afford ski equipment for me so I never learned to snow ski and thus could not join the high school ski team.  Our school’s dress code prohibited many things, like facial hair on boys and pants or Levis on girls.  However, during winter season’s cold months, girls were allowed to wear pants.  Because South Tahoe is a winter skiing Mecca for the “flat-landers,” we were all exposed to the ski clothing fashions of the day.  During those months, nearly everyone, both boys and girls, would wear ski pants to school.

     I didn’t get to wear any until my senior year.  I still remember how much I wanted a couple of pair of the skin-tight, stretchy, but not too tight fitting, pants.  Before I got my pair, I had to content myself (as did the girls) in checking out the telltale bulges in the boys’ pants, which left no mistake as to which leg they hung in or their circumcision status.  I don’t know if I wanted to “show off” my stuff or if I just wanted to fit into the “fashion” scene, but I really wanted those pants.  In any case, as I said, I finally got one pair my senior year.

     Another winter skiing fashion necessity was the footwear for when skiing was over and everyone was relaxing in the lounges of the various resorts.  Again nearly all the kids in school were wearing the very comfortable “after-ski-boots” except me again, until my senior year.  Most of the styles were very similar in design, made out of leather, and the color was almost exclusively black or brown.  But my after-ski-boots were of the same design, in my favorite color, and made of suede.  That’s right.  At 17 years old, I wore my one and only pair of – blue suede shoes.  (Thank you Elvis!)

Similar to Mine but Not an Exact Match

     I really liked those shoes, but they really turned out to be a bad purchase as the things were not waterproof and the blue dye stained all my white socks with blue splotches.  I wore them anyway.

     Picture this – a boy wearing black, snug fitting pants, and blue shoes.  Still, no one called me a homo or queer even though no one else wore blue shoes.  This was probably due to the fact that besides the snug fitting ski pants and blue after-ski-boots, I usually wore long-sleeved flannel shirts of various plaid color combinations.  Since the prevailing stereotype of a gay man or boy at the time was the limp wrist and fashion conscious poster child, and I was clearly not either,  I was probably viewed as either being hopeless or a nerd.

     I really loved those blue boots.  I never went pink, but on so many levels I went blue.

© 7 August 2012  

About the Author

     Ricky was born in June of 1948 in downtown Los Angeles. He lived first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach both suburbs of LA. Just prior to turning 8 years old, he was sent to live with his grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years while his parents obtained a divorce; unknown to him.
     When united with his mother and stepfather in 1958, he lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, he moved to Denver, Colorado where he lived with his wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after 9-11.
     He came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. He says, "I find writing these memories to be therapeutic."
     Ricky's story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com.