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CSUDH - Habermas - UWP

California State University, Dominguez Hills
University of Wisconsin, Parkside
Soka University Japan, Transcend Art and Peace
Created: November 10, 2001
Latest Update: November 13, 2001
jeannecurran@habermas.org

Once upon a time, when I came to Ambassador, it was a weird place. It was the tail end of the sixties and the hippies. We were all fairly young (like thirty or younger) with relatively new Ph.D.s, and the arrogance to suit them. But most of the younger guys, and all but one was a guy, were heavily into that early recognition that came with the Vietnam War that not everything America did was pure and right and ethical. War, particularly, had come to public awareness as something that was "bad for children and other living things." Feminists had rediscovered Lilith and her rebellious refusal to be ordered about by Adam. I still have a poster in my bedroom from the early seventies with Lilith and a broom snapped in half, with the wording: "F*%! HOUSEWORK."

In this climate my determination to "pass" led to many predicaments. Street life is different when you live it, no choice, and when you play there. These guys were playing "street smarts." And they were playing it like guys play marbles, making up the rules as they went. So I had to drop the rules I learned by living them, and figure out what these play-acting rules were.

They played poker. We didn't "play" poker. We set up poker games to sucker guys like these! I hated poker. My daddy had cheating at poker down like they wouldn't have believed. But I missed any invitations to poker that were proffered me, if they were ever proffered me, and I didn't get the "wanna play?" signals right, so I wasn't included in their poker games. I was so grateful, I didn't care that I just got defined as an Other. Of course, because I was passing, they defined that Other as "capitalist and middle class." I never liked Daddy's scam routines, but I reckon he would have been proud that I managed to pass as both capitalist and middle class. He'd been trying all his life and never quite made it.

So I was a social disaster at Ambassador. I dated men, at a time when feminists pronounced that "false consciousness." I liked men, and that was socially unacceptable. I liked to play. But I guess they hadn't read Mead on the importance of play.

. . . .

Taradiddle was, well, insubstantial. He was cute, and went by the nickname of "Tomcat," given to him by one of his previous wives. He wouldn't like the adjective "cute," but this is my novel, and he's my character, so he's stuck with it.

He would have preferred "Marlboro Man." He wanted to be a beer-drinking, a**-kicking cowboy. But he was really a kitten. After two beers he'd nod enthusiastically and miss the rest of the action. But his nights were exciting, as long as they lasted.

Taradiddle made the perfect companion for Slubberdegullion. We called him "Slubber." He WAS big and tall and handsome, like Marlboro Man. They made a great pair for hitting the local taverns where Slubber argued the night away, made insinuating remarks at all the women who would listen, and that was quite a few, and Taradiddle nodded pleasantly through the haze of his two beers.

. . . .

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532 words. Former word count: 4191. I think. 4191 + 532 = 4723 . Total word count: 4723

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