Once upon a time, way back when, there were those who paid lip-service to the higher ideals, but could never live up to them...They spoke of generosity and self-restraint, while privately obsessing over money and searching for the next secret thrill...They praised others for their "clean living" but privately ridiculed these "simpletons," "bores" and "straight-arrows"... They spoke of love and friendship, but privately they gossiped and picked apart the flaws of their neighbors and co-workers...coveting and comparing notes, ah yes, holding grudges against their so-called friends. They kept their minor "bad habits" in check and in plain sight, but kept others well-hidden under the rug or in the closet...Filled with restless curiosity and wanderlust, they looked for places, for locales where the normal rules did not apply... Rhetorically, they lauded and affirmed the self-enforcement of chaste and civil comportment between the sexes, but after sunset they still hit the dance floor... In bars and hotels, in other towns and other cities, well, there was no need to explain away or even remember such dalliances... Discretion was the watchword of the day...To know how to keep secrets... To know how to live double-lives, keeping some people in and some out of the loop... When it simply became too hard to hide all manner of nocturnal involvements ranging from gambling to carousing to seduction, to fly-by-night affairs, to dangerous brief encounters, when it grew too burdensome to compartmentalize one's life and one's brain for the sake of "decency" and "respectability," someone came up with the brilliant idea that maybe they should just admit to these "petty vices" which if, everyone was indulging in - on the side, well then....And soon everyone started doing just that (admitting to them...) until the general public forgot that there were any vices in need of hiding...And so nowadays we talk of revolutions that have come and gone, hang-ups and inhibitions falling by the wayside, new paradigms emerging, new rites of passage...but have the secrets themselves disappeared, or the need to keep secrets...I ask you...
We had made our way down busy Palm Avenue towards the crosswalk. after zigzagging the usual route from busy Bandini Avenue to Tower Road to Rosewood Place. Bret was our wild-man companion - a fifth-grader with a take-no-prisoners approach to life. The local crosswalk, that most mundane of enterprises was soon to become the scene of spontaneous absurdist theater when suddenly out of nowhere came the random yelp: Hey...Hey...What do you want with us lady? - What do I want with you? said the most predictably normal gray-haired woman by whose ever so brief guidance we measured our daily jaunt to school. Yeah - where are you taking us? - There's only one way kid - It's this way... - You're not really a crossing guard are you? came the cheeky interrogative. The slightly bemused, limping, beleaguered woman was dwarfed by her bright yellow uniform as she held up her STOP sign - showing Brett. The other smaller kids walked by us single file in the middle of th...
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