|An email from the mother of this 5-year-old, who excitedly had his photo taken with the San Francisco Ducal Council, brought tears to columnist Pollo Del Mar‚Äôs eyes.
Notorious Sainted Glamazon About Town
When the ‚ÄúCheck Engine‚ÄĚ light came on recently in my Toyota Tercel, my first thought, of course, was just how much it might cost me to get it back on the road. Once I had it at the repair shop, though, my next thought caught me quite by surprise. ‚ÄúThis is a problem very common in older cars,‚ÄĚ said Lu, the mechanic on duty, assessing the needed repairs.
‚ÄúNow wait just a minute,‚ÄĚ I thought with righteous indignation, ‚ÄúMy car is a 1994, that‚Äôs only . . .‚ÄĚ And that is when it struck me. As I quickly tallied it up in my head, I realized just exactly how long ago 1994 was, in fact. For those who can‚Äôt or would prefer not to do the math for their own personal reasons, it‚Äôs 15 years ago!
Suddenly my indignation wilted, and I started to feel rather‚Ä¶ old.
Before I go forward, this is not a column about self-pity. There is no need for me to cry ‚Äúlook-at-me-I‚Äôm-aging‚ÄĚ or anything of the sort, because it is so far from how I feel. What came washing over me, really, in those moments of realization surrounding the lifespan of my car ‚Äď which I didn‚Äôt even buy new but just purchased last Christmas from Sandra O. Noshi-Din‚Äôn‚Äôt ‚Äď is how damn quickly those 15 years have passed!
Am I alone in thinking it is so much easier to remember what I was doing all those years ago, when I was a mere junior in college and far more than my name said ‚ÄúChicken,‚ÄĚ than it is to remember last week? Hell, I can barely remember what should seem like monumental events in my life ‚Äď much less the odds-and-ends daily occurrences.
Though it consumed my life and conscience so entirely for nearly two months, I have all-but-forgotten how just last week sometime I ‚Äď along with every other aspirant from San Francisco, apparently ‚Äď was unceremoniously dumped from consideration for Season 2 of RuPaul‚Äôs Drag Race. Maybe there are simply too many things, from this column to the San Francisco Ducal Council to Mary-Go-Round and BRAIN FARTS trivia to the upcoming Miss San Francisco Gold Rush Pageant which require my time, energy and attention to stay stuck in the past.
Perhaps I stay rooted in the now because there are such beautiful things happening every day in my life, all of which keep me present. Take for example a note I received last week regarding a five-year-old whose photo was taken with San Francisco‚Äôs Ducal Court the day of Pride. ‚ÄúHe just stopped wearing dresses in public maybe a year ago. I guess someone told him ‚ÄėBoys don‚Äôt wear dresses,‚Äô‚ÄĚ said his mother via email. ‚ÄúI‚Äôm so glad he knows now that some boys do!‚ÄĚ
Or, who knows, maybe I am losing my mind ‚Äď and it really is a sign that I am getting older. Who can honestly say?
I have heard that the longer you live, the faster time goes by. It certainly seems that way for me these days. Often I find myself thinking, ‚ÄúThat happened just a few days ago‚ÄĚ ‚Äď when, in reality, it turns out to have been months passed.
Apparently this phenomenon applies to cars, too. Though mine is back on the road, seemingly good as new, Lu has already assured me I‚Äôll be back to see him in about six months. He‚Äôs even told me what the problem will be. And, rest assured, when it comes time to see the mechanic again, I‚Äôll invariably be thinking, ‚ÄúI swear, it seems like I was just in here yesterday‚Ä¶‚ÄĚ
I suppose when the human ‚ÄúCheck Engine‚ÄĚ light comes on, the mind really is the first thing to go.
Thank You From the Bottom of My Heart
I wanted to take a moment to publish a very personal letter sent recently to my friends on Facebook. I would be remiss, though, if I did not print it for the readers of this column.
Weds., July 1, 2009
RuPaul‚Äôs Drag Race just listed the Top 25 girls heading into Round 3 . . . and I am noticeably absent. So, as I posted earlier this morning, it is time for us to ‚ÄúSashay Away.‚ÄĚ
And even though I‚Äôm crying as I write this, it is not a sad email. Far from it, really, because I‚Äôm welling over with gratitude. I want to thank each and every one of you who has taken the time to vote, post my URL or write words of encouragement. What a tremendous journey this has been ‚ÄĒ and it has brought into my life people from around the world, people I have never met (and might never meet) who have shown such tremendous love and support for what I was attempting..
When I threw my wig into the ring for this crazy Race six or eight weeks ago, I had no intention to take it so seriously. I thought it might be good, clean fun. Soon, because I was receiving such love from all of you, I was obsessing about it. Day and night I would check the site, post pleas for votes and then check the voting updates again. Having been very sick the last few days, I seriously think it took a toll on my health.
This morning, I woke up early. Very early. Like 4:30 a.m. early. And I checked the site for the last time. I‚Äôd fallen out of the Top 25. At the time, I decided I could either wake myself up and cheat (as I know some girls also realized is possible), or I could simply turn the decision over to the Universe to decide for me. And so I rolled over and went back to sleep.
What a relief, I have to say, it is to know such a decision is possible. I hope that I haven‚Äôt let any of my friends and fans - though I hate that word and think of you ALL as ‚Äúfriends‚ÄĚ - down by not making that final round. It must mean, in my mind, that there is something else I am supposed to be doing with my time.
My experience is that when one door closes, I kick another open. And that‚Äôs what I plan to do. When I figure out what that door is, you‚Äôll be the first to know. And with your love & support behind me, I know I simply can‚Äôt go wrong. You‚Äôve already made me feel like the biggest winner RuPaul‚Äôs Drag Race has ever produced.