Wednesday, September 03, 2008

Memories: Like the Corners of My Mind...


(This is NOT a political post...).
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So as the conventions play out, every 4 years-  thankfully timed to leap year so that we get at least one of our wasted days back - I am reminded of my first convention viewing.
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My Grandfather (on my mom's side) was a brilliant and crazy old guy.  He was the Head of the Psychology Department at Chapman University (then college), a very well respected little school in Orange County.
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He (my Grandfather) was, as I say, both brilliant and crazy - long before the term "manic / depressive asshole" morphed into the so much more pleasant sounding "bi-polar".  But with me (or at least in my presence) he was amazing.  He challenged my intelligence, he was interested in a broad array of topics and shared knowledge, questions and investigations with me.  Later he kind of stopped talking to me when he found out I was a homo, but I try to remember the fun stuff with him.
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Anywho... he hated the Republicans in general and Nixon in particular with a pathological vigor.  He had a very good justification for his hatred (having to do with when he was a pastor; but I have found out so many of the stories I was told as a child were bullshit, I shan't repeat this particular one.)
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So my first convention viewing was 1968 at the Republican Convention when he sat down with me for the days it was on, gleefully proclaiming "Come on Scott!  We're going to watch the monkeys again!" And, as we watched, he provided a scathing commentary on everything from Tricky Dick's flop sweat to Pat's painfully stretched face to Nelson Rockefeller's pathetic attempt to stand up to The Dick.
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I no longer watch either convention.  There are no good floor fights anymore.  The last grand theater (which I did get to watch with Granddad) was when Gerald Ford was nominated in 1976, but all the Ronald Reagan delegates kept applauding for Nancy, and wouldn't let poor Betty to the Mike ("Look at the Monkeys Dance!!!").
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It sounds stupid now, but it was just one more way my Grandfather treated me like an adult at a very early age when everyone else was trying to figure out what to do with this shy, smart kid caught in the divorce.
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I don't really talk about him that much, you don't talk about someone you disappointed just by being gay, but I so admired him - and so thought he was crazy.  I just assumed they went together (a theory I still put some stock into)....
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Anyway, no jokes, just a memory.