Waitin' for the Weekend

"Just Passing Through #1" by Clint Collide:

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Fat Bear Week 2026

Eliminated from competition:  too skinny.
Click to enlarge.

I never heard of this event before, but what a great idea!  It started in Katmai National Park in Alaska in 2014, and now attracts millions of spectators and voters.  I wanted to send in our names for the competition, but M.P. won't let me.  Spoilsport.

NBC's Today program reports:

Here's a link to the live bear cam (not embeddable) if you want to get a good look at all the naked competitors. Clothing is strictly prohibited, of course.

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Pete Does Dallas

Pete speaking in Dallas, 9/19/26.
Click to enlarge.

Former Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg spoke at the Texas Democratic Party's annual Johnson-Jordan dinner on Saturday night.  What.A.Man.  Intelligent, eloquent, honest, modest, compassionate, courageous, and a true patriot.  I believe he will make a fine statesman in time to come.  May God bless, guide, and protect him.

But the sensational title of this video is quite misleading - some young staffer must have stuck that on there.  This is no mere "roast" - the mad bull in the White House is mentioned only once, I think - but a brilliant, upbeat review of the problems we face and the way out of them.  Well worth your time.

Bonus: Last week, Pete had a lively conversation about the future of the nation and the world with the Atlantic's editor in chief, Jeffrey Goldberg:

P.S. -- Whatever happens, I do hope Pete will always keep his very handsome beard.  It gives his youthful face gravitas.

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Sunday Drive: The Lord's My Shepherd

The Lessons Appointed for Use on the

Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

Today's readings from the Episcopal Lectionary speak to me in a special way; but today I wish to focus on another reading.

Yesterday, September 19th, was the fourth anniversary of the funeral of H. M. Queen Elizabeth II in Westminster Abbey, which was broadcast and streamed worldwide to billions of viewers.  It was deeply moving for me, and I particularly liked the rendition of the 23rd Psalm from the Scottish Metrical Psalter, set to the tune Crimond.  It was a favorite of the Queen's, who was raised by a Scottish nanny, who later served as her dresser (lady's maid) for many years.  

The Queen's Christian faith was the bedrock of her life and long reign, as she expressed many times in her annual Christmas broadcasts to her peoples around the world.  Here is the Psalm as performed at the funeral by the  Choir of Westminster Abbey:

The 23rd Psalm is, of course, deeply meaningful to all Christians, and is frequently used in funeral services.  It is dear to my heart because I learned it by heart in kindergarten at a Christian school, and it has comforted me through all the sad or lonely or grieving times of life.  And in my mind, it ties in with another comforting passage from the New Testament:

My grace is sufficient for thee: 

for My strength is made perfect in weakness.

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Waitin' for the Weekend

"Knowns + Unknowns #2" by Clint Collide:

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The Most Beautiful Train in the World

SP Daylight baggage sticker, 1937.

Postcard showing the SP Daylight on the Pacific Coast route, circa 1938.
Click to enlarge.

The California State Railroad Museum sponsored this 2005 documentary about the fabled Daylight streamliners of the Southern Pacific Railroad, which plied the rails between Los Angeles and San Francisco from 1937 until the formation of Amtrak in 1971. This video is a treat for the eyes and ears, and a must-see for all railfans.

You could eat plain or fancy fare, as you pleased, aboard the Daylight - from sardines to caviar.  Multiply the prices by a factor of 20 to get a rough approximation in today's dollars.  (Yes, it was and still is expensive to eat in the dining car - go look up Amtrak prices.)

SP Daylight lunch menu, 1937.
Click to enlarge.

The SP and its subsidiaries formed a gigantic enterprise with over 16,000 miles of track, stretching from Portland, Oregon, down through California and over to New Orleans, as well as eastward to Ogden, Utah, and Tucumcari, New Mexico.  There was also a Mexican subsidiary as well as a steamship line from New Orleans to New York.  

Southern Pacific system map at its greatest extent in 1929.
Thicker lines are SP routes; thinner lines are other railroads.
Click to enlarge.

SP's famous "Sunset Route" herald, used for decades
in publications and on billboards and railroad cars.

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Sunday Drive: Somewhere, The Texas Tenors

This widely acclaimed group got started on America's Got Talent in 2009 and went on to fame and fortune, winning three Emmy Awards, among other honors.  M.P. and I agree that "Somewhere" is a song gay men can easily relate to.  See what you think, fellas.

Encore:  I never heard this song before, but the boys sure do a beautiful job with it:

 

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Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning?

The Pearl Harbor of our time:  Twenty-five years ago today, the unthinkable happened.  Alan Jackson sings:

President Bush addressed the nation that evening, calmly and resolutely:

It was a very fine speech except for one thing.  That sentence about "they attacked us because America is a beacon of freedom and opportunity" is no explanation at all - it's mythology.

But I will say that he did an excellent job as Comforter-in-Chief in the dark days that followed. That was before he got completely off track and perverted our military response in the wrong direction.

And I will add that what goes around, comes around. No leader, no nation is so high and mighty that it cannot be brought low. Especially one that fights with its friends and cozies up to its enemies.

As the Good Book says, Pride goeth before a fall.

I'll stop right there.

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Homosexuals in Dallas, 1984

From the SMU Jones Film & Video Collection, a report by KERA, the local PBS station, on some lesbians and gay men living more or less openly in the Dallas area in 1984, and the antigay officials at Southern Methodist University who had a problem with that.  It may be hard for youngsters to realize how very different the world was back then, but just the fact of seeing real, live homos on TV was still shocking to many straight people.  

(Just so you know, SMU is a very prestigious school, often considered part of the unofficial Southern Ivy League.  It's located in the top-drawer Highland Park neighborhood of Dallas, and is home to the George W. Bush Presidential Library.)

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Disussion Question:   A commenter on this video says, "You’ve gone from, 'We’re just two people that love each other and want to be accepted' to indoctrinating kids in school with drag queen story hour." 

Frankly, I see a great big difference between responsible adults and impressionable little children. I'm not on board with the drag queen story hour idea. I say there's something very insidious about that. But I'm an old man with no power to control anybody, not even M.P. -- oh, certainly not M.P! 

What do you say?

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The "How Hard Can It Be?" Gene

It is an enduring truth of human life that few things are as satisfying as watching other people hard at work whilst you sit comfortably at a distance, sipping your favorite brew.  

We enjoyed watching this play-by-play video the other night over dinner.  A young, unemployed civil engineer did a brilliant job from top to bottom over a four-year period.  It's a great way to take your mind off the state of the world for an hour, not to mention your own troubles. I suggest, however, that you lower the playback speed to about 80 percent if you want to keep up with Speedy Andy.

BTW, here at Blue Truck HQ, the plumbers are supposed to come today to fix our runaway toilet.  Somehow, the fasteners on one side of the base have disappeared.  You haven't really lived until you've taken a ride on a rock 'n' roll toilet!  I tell you what.

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Sunday Drive: Ravel, Boléro

This well-known piece was written in 1928 by French composer Maurice Ravel.  M.P. - who had some vocal training in his youth and loves operatic tunes - sent it to me the other day, and though I had heard the melody many times, I guess I'd never heard the entire work played all the way through.  I was astonished to realize it is just the same intro repeated over and over again, never leading to anything else.  WTF??

Frankly, I thought it was absurd.  Come to find out - Ravel himself agrees with me!  He planned it that way.  Oh well, you know how those highbrow composers are . . . .

Here it is, from the BBC Proms in 2014, under the baton of Daniel Barenboim:

FYI:  Boléro would seem to have been an inspiration for the popular tune "Andalucía," aka "The Breeze and I," written by Cuban composer Ernesto Lecuona, which was a big hit for Jimmy Dorsey and his orchestra in 1940, featuring a vocal by Bob Eberly:

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Waitin' for the Weekend: World's Best Nude Gay Beaches

Your Head Trucker shows off his treasure trail on a Florida beach, 35 years ago.  
My summer lover and I spent nearly every weekend at one beach or another.
We got quite brown and had a lot of fun while it lasted.  A happy memory.

Something different for this Labor Day weekend:  Experienced travelers Andy and Trai take us on a tour of their favorite nude gay beaches here, there, and yonder.  I hope all my truckbuddies have fun in the sun with the one they love, wherever you are.

And if you can't be with the one you love -- love the one you're with. There are only so many summers, babe.

Update 9/5/26:  Wow, this post has gotten a shipload of views.  Overnight, the count went from 725 to 9530 14,828, and more all the time.  At first I thought - Damn, I was hotter than I thought.  Aw, but then I remembered the f*kn video.

Oh well.  If it's the vid you like, Andy and Trai have lots more to see on YT.  On the other hand, if it's the pic of me in my glory days (?) you like, just stuff a bill or two in my Speedo.  *Grin*

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The World Our Parents Made

"You don't know what you've got till it's gone."

If you can put your modern-day complaints aside for a moment, here's a look at the glory days of the postwar era, when American civilization was at its height, a benign colossus bestriding the world without a rival.  As Shakespeare wrote, But me no buts.  Just hush up and watch - and then weep for all we have lost.  It wasn't a perfect country or a perfect world - but it some ways, it was the highwater mark of humanity.  

Go read the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948).

Power Behind the Nation, 1947:

Your Head Trucker remembers well how the tiny tots of this peaceful era - some of them - grew up to hate and despise and cry down "the world our parents made." But now, just what kind of world have we made?  

And in particular, I refer to the 80-year-olds who have, collectively, sat in the seats of power and wealth for forty years now - they were once the golden boys and girls of the sixties.  What have they done with that power?

"We can change the world, rearrange the world" . . . "we" certainly have. For good or ill?  

Are we happy now?

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It's Time

Here's a sweet treat for you, fellas. Yesterday, YouTube threw me something I'd never seen before:  a beautiful ad for marriage equality from GetUp! Australia that aired in 2011, starring studly actor and filmmaker Julian Shaw.  After years of debate and campaigning by both sides, the Australian federal parliament finally legalized same-sex marriage nationwide in December 2017.

And here is the making-of video:

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Sunday Drive: Words, Barry Gibb and Dolly Parton

Recorded in Nashville for Barry Gibb's 2021 album Greenfields:

The finished version:

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Waitin' for the Weekend

"Hims + Thems #4" by Clint Collide:

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In Memoriam: Dolly Parton, 1946-2026

America has lost a national treasure.  The incomparable Dolly Parton, singer, songwriter, actress, and philanthropist, died today at age 80 after a life well lived, rising from the hills of Tennessee to the summit of world acclaim, but never losing the common touch.  She will live on in the hearts of many millions whom she touched with beauty, joy, and a generous, loving spirit.  She was also a friend and supporter of the gay community.

1.  A message from Dolly's family:

2.  NBC News reports on Dolly's true-life rags to riches story:

3.  In this 2025 interview with Dan Rather, starting at the 4:00 mark, we learn the secret to her success:  she's not a floozy, she's a sharp, shrewd businesswoman:

See the full interview here.

4.  Dolly was also a deeply spiritual person who lived her faith, as she explains in this wide-ranging interview with Norah O'Donnell in 2024:

5.  I believe Dolly always closed her shows with this beautiful song:

Bonus: The Empire State Building was lit up in sparkling pink tonight as a tribute to Dolly.

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Sunday Drive: Once Upon a Dream

The unforgettably romantic theme from Walt Disney's Sleeping Beauty, 1959.  I never got to see the film until I was grown, but this little gay boy did play the song on a little yellow record over and over and over . . . .

The music is, of course, lifted directly from Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty ballet, 1889:

By the way, Resident Artist M.P. did get to see the movie as a little gay boy, and fell in love with the stylized artwork, which he still thinks is very, very cool. Check out this fascinating video about the artistic development behind the finished film:

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Waitin' for the Weekend: Friends of Walter F.

Beach forecast:  sunny, warm, and studly.
Kenneth Carson, Galveston, May 14, 1938 --
one of Walter's many friends.

Something different this week:  a poignant series of photographs of handsome young men at the beach and elsewhere, taken between 1937 and 1941.  The photographer, who appears in some of the photos, was one Walter R. Ferguson, who apparently had a job that enabled him to roam the South as "your TAFT representative," whatever that means.  He stayed in very nice hotels, too.

The photos record his travels, first to seaside towns, starting with Jacksonville, Fla., and westward along the Gulf Coast to Beaumont, Texas.  Next he shows up in St. Petersburg, Fla., and Miami, then travels up the East Coast all the way to Norfolk, Virginia.  The following year, he visits Charlotte, Birmingham, Jackson, and Dallas, then goes up to Memphis, Nashville, and Knoxville in Tennessee.  And meets studly guys everywhere.  And they gladly let him take their pictures!

It's obvious that Walter was good at striking up friendships wherever he went; he must have had a charming personality.  The smiling young men he photographed seem to be enjoying his company, too.  Apparently, nothing more is known of Walter and his friends, but the photos seem to tell a story.  What do you think that story was?

Part 1:

Part 2:

Part 3:

These vids were posted on the YouTube channel homosexualhistory.

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Memories of My Grand Tour, 1976 - Part 2

This post continues the travel saga that I began two weeks ago.  Unfortunately, my old passport photo hasn't turned up yet.  But here's a picture of me a few months later, with the same hair and stache that I had when I toured London and Paris in August of 1976.  

By the way, I was still closeted at the time; I knew very well that I was gay, but coming out was several years in the future.

Your Head Trucker was strictly au courant on this occasion with the big plaid, wide lapels, platform shoes, and polarized indoor/outdoor sunglasses.

This photo was taken early in 1977 at a country-club get-together thrown by the Business Department of the university I transferred to after I finished junior college.  That was a practical choice, but it wasn't right for me; eventually I went to another university and felt very much at home in the humanities.

Back to the travel story:  I won't bore my readers with details of all the famous places I visited in England and France, which every tourist could tell you about.  Sure, it was thrilling to finally see in person the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace (the Queen wasn't at home, alas!  Gone to Scotland for her summer vacation).  And there was Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben (sadly silent - they were working on the bell mechanism); also, feeding the pigeons in Trafalgar Square, wandering through Windsor Castle (and enjoying a delicious afternoon tea at the hotel across the street), and Hampton Court Palace, and Kensington Palace, and walking the length and breadth of Hyde Park.

Unfortunately, Europe was having its worst drought in 300 years - nowadays, the British press refers to it as the heatwave of 1976, but at the time they spoke of the drought.  No fountains were running anywhere, and Hyde Park was one big carpet of dead grass, brown as toast - all except along the banks of the Serpentine, a lake that curves through the southern part, where the grass was thick and deep green.

I was there on a Sunday afternoon, when a military band played marches and popular tunes on a gazebo near the southeast gate, and you could rent a folding chair for, oh, maybe 25 pence or so.  It was lovely to sit under a shade tree and listen to the pretty music.  After the band finished up, around 4 p.m., I wandered over to a row of trees on a rise of ground paralleling the Serpentine and sat down on the cushiony grass.  There was a level field of the same grass about a hundred feet wide between the bank of the stream and where  I was sitting, and two teams of amateurs were having a jolly good time playing soccer - which the English insist on calling football.

It was a friendly, good-natured game that was pleasant to watch.  Those were the days when most young men sported long hair, moustaches, and beards, and I admired the hairy, sweaty guys as they ran to and fro, shouting and laughing, jumping up and falling down.  It made me a little sad, too.  Unathletic me doesn't give a damn about sports, but I would have liked to join in the game - to be one of the guys, for a change.  A wistful thought.  

A view across the Serpentine in Hyde Park, June 2007, via Wikipedia.

Most of those guys had very dark hair.  It seemed odd to me that there were few English people to be seen on the streets of London.  A great many Italians were working in small shops or cafes; the rest of the pedestrians were largely Indian ladies in their colorful saris or tall Africans in what we Americans called dashikis.  At least, that's how it seemed in the parts of the town I visited.

There was an Indian restaurant down the street from my hotel that I often passed on my way to the tube station (American:  the subway).  One day I stopped there for lunch - I had no idea of what Indian food was like, but in my naivete, I imagined that dishes from the exotic East must be something wonderful, like ambrosia of the gods, maybe.  The lunchtime crowd having departed, the nearly empty cafe was staffed by at least half a dozen young Indian men with thick accents, and it seemed half a dozen more were squeezed into the narrow kitchen, cooking food and washing dishes. 

The waiter brought me a menu, at which I gazed perplexedly.  I didn't recognize any of the items listed.  But hey, it's an adventure, right?  So I ordered Mulligatawny soup for the first course - that sounded vaguely Irish to me.  Then a main dish with chicken in it, and maybe some kind of vegetable.  What could go wrong?

I soon found out.  The soup was hot as blazes - both in temperature and spices.  The main dish was even hotter!  To my way of thinking, Indian food is very like Mexican food, nothing fancy but much hotter.  I didn't enjoy any of it, but I was too embarrassed by my stupidity to ask for something else, so I soldiered on through the meal, ordering Coke after Coke.  They had only the small bottles of Coke that we in America had long since abandoned for the king-size bottles.  They weren't cold, but even so, they gave relief to my five-alarm tongue.  I must have drunk six or seven bottles.

The waiters stood in the kitchen doorway, chattering excitedly and shooting glances at the crazy American who was drinking up their Coke supply.  I felt very conspicuous and foolish.  Somehow, I managed to down a respectable portion of what was served to me, paid my check, and left, faking aplomb outwardly, but inwardly vowing never again to order anything anywhere if I didn't know what it was.  

I tried a couple of other cafes in London, but the food wasn't to my taste, and the prices were higher than I wanted to pay, keeping a careful eye on my spending money, which had to last two weeks.  Fortunately, the answer to my food problem was near the tube station, under a pair of golden arches.  Who knew they had McDonald's in London, England?  Nowadays, it is common knowledge that American fast-food joints of all kinds have spread around the world, but it was a welcome revelation to me then.  

McDonald's was not my favorite burger joint - I was a Burger King man - but they kept me well-fed and happy, twice a day.  The amazing thing was that the burgers and fries tasted exactly as they did at home.  Only the drinks were a little off - I suppose due to the local water - but they were quite drinkable and icy-cold.  And the prices were cheap.  A tasty and most helpful discovery for this hungry young American.

To be continued . . .

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Sunday Drive: Luke Evans Sings

Luke Evans in 2018, from Wikipedia

We never heard of this studly Welshman until YouTube sent some of his videos my way the other day, and wow!  What a great voice, in a great package.  I guess it shows just how out of the loop we are here, as he has had an extensive career on stage and screen as a big, butch action-hero type.  I wonder how many of my truckbuddies have heard of him before now - and why you didn't tell me!

Here are three songs that showcase his powerful vocal range.  I hope you all will scroll down further to listen to his deeply moving coming-out story, which many of us can relate to.  BTW, your superannuated Head Trucker can remember when all of these songs were Top 40 hits, as noted.

If I Could Turn Back Time  (Cher, 1989):

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face (Roberta Flack, 1972):

It's Not Unusual  (Tom Jones, 1965):

And here is Luke in 2024, discussing his upbringing in a homophobic church in a Welsh village, and reading a poignant selection from his memoirs.  You know, I think all gay boys tell the same story of growing up a lonely, miserable outcast, not knowing what to do or whom to ask for help.  Somehow, those who survive manage to achieve a reasonably good adult life.  Some do better than good - Luke is one of those who has hit the jackpot in life.  God bless him.

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Waitin' for the Weekend

"Just Passing Through #3" by Clint Collide:

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Sunday Drive: Tchaikovsky, Waltz of the Flowers

As performed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra:

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Waitin' for the Weekend

"No Shirts + No Shoes #1" by Clint Collide:

 

Oh, where have all the summers gone . . . ?

Où sont les sables d'antan ?

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Memories of My Grand Tour, 1976 - Part 1

This is the very brochure I planned my trip with.
Now for sale on Ebay for five bucks.  I got my copy for free from the AAA travel agency, which handled the purchase and ticketing.

On this day fifty years ago, I began a two-week stay in London and Paris that remains a vivid memory.  Like most young men, I had a yen to see the world; but the family finances, though adequate for a quiet middle-class life, did not extend to such an extravagance.  However, the winter before, it had occurred to me that I could borrow from a life insurance policy my parents had taken out on me when I was born; it had a cash value of about two thousand dollars by this time.  My desire to see the Old World I'd read about in books all my life quickly became something of an obsession, so I set about researching ways and means to get there.

Happily, I soon discovered that TWA had a wonderful program of "freestyle" Getaway Vacations - one price covered all air fares and hotel bills, and best of all, you weren't tied down with a tour group all day, every day.  You were free to do your own thing and visit the places you really wanted to see on your own.  Perfect.  Although I would have loved to travel all around Europe, I settled for two weeks in London and Paris - the top spots on my must-see list - for which the price was about 800 bucks.  That seemed quite reasonable at the time.  I took with me about $400 in traveler's checks to cover incidentals - and I had my mom's Diner's Club card in case of emergency.

(To put the figures in perspective, my rent at the time was about $100 a month, and my total expenses, including utilities, food, and gas & oil, were less than $400 - minimum wage at the time was $1.80 an hour.)

I also invested in a couple of travel guidebooks - one was entitled Europe on $10 a Day, which was a great guide to all the cheap but good restaurants, hotels, and amusement places, and gave helpful tips on how to get around town cheaply.  For example, I learned that the thing to do, as soon as you got to Paris, was to go buy un carnet - a book of subway tickets - which would save you a third or more off the regular fare.  And in both London and Paris, the subway was a wonderful way to get all around town.

I also learned that I needed to get an International Student I.D. Card before I left the States - that gave you reduced rates or discounts at lots of stores, shops, and museums.  But of course the prime thing was to get a passport, and apply far in advance of your departure date because the State Department was rather slow to fill all the thousands of requests they were swamped with every month.  I didn't read that part until about the first of June, so I quickly got a photo taken and went to the downtown post office, where you had to swear you were who you thought you were, were not a criminal or communist, and could recite the Pledge of Allegiance backwards and forwards.  I sent the application off with a note asking nicely for a little speed in processing, as my trip was leaving in less than 60 days.

God bless the kind-hearted soul in Washington who had pity on my plea - or did he or she just like my passport photo?  My passport came signed, sealed, and delivered in good time, well before my departure date.  The next thing to concentrate on was my choice of clothing.  I bought a couple of new shirts, one neavy blue and one chocolate brown, both made of one of those new polyester fabrics they were trying out in those days - a kind of dense netting that wasn't see-through, but had many tiny holes, which I thought would ensure my comfort and coolness.  And it did.  To pair with those I had two pairs of jeans-cut slacks (not actual jeans), in tan and dark blue.  This gave me the equivalent of four outfits; and the no-wrinkle shirts were so light they could be washed in a sink and hung over a shower rod to dry overnight.  Perfect.

Your Head Trucker is not the type to go bumming around from hostel to hovel, hitching rides and begging food, as so many of my compatriots did in the sixties and seventies.  The mid-priced hotels I stayed in were very like what you find in every American hotel:  the rooms were air-conditioned, spotlessly clean, with comfortable beds and TV sets, and complimentary tea and croissants arrived on a tray first thing every morning.  That's my idea of the way to travel.  

Looking for my old passport photo.  To be continued . . . 

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Gumbo Rescue

Restaurant workers save an elederly man's life when he fails to show up for his daily cup of gumbo. 

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Waitin' for the Weekend

"Looking Back in Time #2" by Clint Collide:

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Exploring Gay HIstory at the Smithsonian

Fascinating artifacts from the the Smithsonian Institution trace the stories of gay Americans, famous and obscure, from the 1800s till today in this 2024 documentary.  It's fairly good, though as is so often the case with such broad summaries, it sometimes glamorizes and dramatizes a bit more than is necessary - but worth watching anyway.  

We've come a long way, baby; I just hope I don't live to see the pendulum swing back the other way.  But it can and does sometimes, as history has shown many times in many places.  

It bugs me when people talk about being on "the right side of history" - that's a misnomer.  What they really mean is the right side of the future; but the future is unknown and unknowable.  It hasn't happened yet.  And there are no guarantees in this universe.

All we can ever know for sure is this little stepping-stone of time we live in - the present.  So make the best of it.

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Sunday Drive: Strauss, Roses from the South

André Rieu conducts a very cool performance of this old favorite of your Head Trucker's at the Schönbrunn Palace in Vienna, 2013.  Sixty years ago, I used to play this on the piano.

One would have liked to go to a ball, a real ball, just once.  Sigh.  Alas, my fairy godmother never showed up!  Which is just as well, I suppose - my big Texas feet would never have fit into any glass slipper.

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Waitin' for the Weekend

"A Motley Mix of Men #2" by Clint Collide:

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What We're Watching: Miss Polly (1941)

We are sweltering through some mighty hot weather down here in Texas, boys - Tuesday it was 104 degrees, and the heat index was a whopping 119!  The temperature inside the house was 85, even with the a/c system and all fans going full blast.  We had a serviceman come out yesterday who cleaned and recharged the a/c, which helped; and also, the outdoor temp cooled off to a mere 98 degrees.

When we hear of silly-ass people in France or wherever agonizing over whether it is "ethical" to use air conditioning in extreme heat, we just laugh.  The question here in the Lone Star State is:  You want to live or die?  It's that simple.

I hope all my truckbuddies are staying cool and comfortable.  If you need something to take your mind off the weather, here's an amusing B movie from 1941 made by the Hal Roach studios - they also made the Our Gang comedies in the 1930s.  

We like to watch old movies or TV shows during dinner at the kitchen bar; and it seems I have made a convert of M.P., who wasn't quite sure who Zasu Pitts was until I started playing some of her movies.  Now he thinks she's swell.  See what you think.

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Sunday Drive: Strauss, The Blue Danube

Click to enlarge.

To help beat the summer heat, I think I will play some waltzes and other delightful things in the next month or so.  The beloved "Blue Danube" is of course at the top of the list, and Strauss wrote many others.  Here it is, as performed by the Philadelphia Orchestra in 1961, with Eugene Ormandy conducting.

My mom used to pick up a record album from a thrift shop or discount store now and then, and though I never remember her playing any of them - maybe she played them when no one else was at home - they were exciting to discover as a lonely only child.  And what little gay boy wouldn't be entranced by the lush music and the fairy-tale picture on the album?

I played and replayed it countless times over the years.  When it had gotten rather scratchy in the mid-1970s, I searched the record stores until I found an 8-track version of the same, which I could play in my car while driving along the blue waters of the beautiful Gulf coast.  Fond memories; I hope you fellas enjoy the inspiration of this masterpiece recording too.

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Waitin' for the Weekend

"Loving Them All #1" by Clint Collide:

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Famous Photo Found!

From more than 60 years ago, I remember this fascinating photo of moving day in an American suburb that appeared in my World Book Encyclopedia, which my mom got me when I was 7.  (The World Book was an education in itself - thanks, Mom!)  I always did wonder how they got those all those big trucks in and out of that narrow street.

Now somebody has done the research to find out where this photo came from:  it was taken in 1953 for an article in Life magazine about the booming Lakewood suburb of Los Angeles.  The researcher uses Google Maps and his own video to show what the neighborhood looks like now.  A fine job of sleuthing.

May 1st was moving day up north; I never heard of such a thing down south.  This article from the Brooklyn Public Library gives the legal and historical background of the event, with some humorous period pieccs about the hustle and bustle.  See also this Wikipedia article.

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Sunday Drive: Summertime

Ella and Louis sing the Gershwin classic, recorded in 1957:

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Waitin' for the Weekend

"All American Boy" by Vintage Photomontage:

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Fifty Years Ago: Bay Gays, 1976

A compilation of news reports on the burgeoning "homosexual community" in San Francisco, in the freewheeling carnival days before Harvey Milk, before the riots, before AIDS and all that.  I was still in the closet, and though I knew I was gay I didn't feel any kinship with the screaming queens out there.  The two quiet, polite, monogamous guys interviewed in the first clip here were more my speed, and still are.  But San Francisco was in the vanguard of the gay rights movement, which has benefited us all from coast to coast.  

BTW, David Goodstein, who appears in the first clip, was owner and publisher of The Advocate, which I later subscribed to for several years.

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Uncelebrating July 4th

I've thought and thought, but I just can't come up with anything to say or show to mark our national day.

I love my country, and there are still good people in it - but when I look beyond our little home and neighborhood, what I see is a nightmare version of America, a Bizarro world turned upside down, inside out.  Not the country I grew up in.

Instead of a republic, we live now in a corrupt and corrupting dictatorship centered on the worship of a conceited egomaniac without a conscience, supported and sustained by supine legislators and venal judges.  He is the complete antithesis of everything an American president should be, a monumental disgrace to the office held by Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Lincoln, the Roosevelts, and so many other honest, honorable, decent men.

The dictatorship is not yet total, but his lickspittle lackeys, verminous henchmen, and deluded supporters are straining every nerve to make it so.  If they succeed, we shall have, not the blessings of liberty, but the scourging of a theocratic and plutocratic autocracy.  Which is just what the Founding Fathers feared and tried to prevent.  

The truth is, both the right and the left have gone far wrong, and no matter how the politics turn out, the old order of thing in this country and abroad has been shattered to pieces and will never return.  The clock never runs backward.  

This old man has outlived his time.  Things may get better eventually, or they may get worse - either way, there's nothing I can do to affect the course of events.  With the infirmities of advancing age, it's all we can do here just to keep ourselves and our little home in working order.

I could say many other things about politics and society, history and morality, but that's all I can manage for now - except a prayer:  God bless America and God help us all.

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I don't feel like singing today, but here is the late, great Kate Smith with the song she made famous when my dad was in England serving with the U. S. Air Force, and my mom was working in a defense plant here in Texas, turning out artillery shells:

Bonus, 5 p.m.:  Former President Bill Clinton has issued an encouraging statement on America 250 and the state of the country.  Excerpt:

Our Founders were wise when they gave us our mission to form a more perfect union. They knew America would never be perfect but could always be better. That’s what they meant by “more perfect.” We’ve done that by being courageous enough to acknowledge our flaws and missteps—and then bold enough to leave them behind for brighter tomorrows.

That’s the lesson of our first 250 years: we can always do better. In how we treat one another, in person and online; in building a better future for ourselves, our families, and our communities; and in standing up, showing up, and speaking out for our democracy.

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In The Room Where America Was Born

Signing of the Declaration of Independence by John Trumbull, 1819.
Click to enlarge.

Instead of the usual Friday assortment of several handsome men, today the Blue Truck features just one - which ought to satisfy everybody.

Independence Hall in Philadelphia is familiar to all Americans as the birthplace of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, as well as the original home of the Liberty Bell.  The Hall is in the care and custody of the National Park Service.  Those who remember fondly the denizens of Jellystone Park know that relations between bears and rangers have often been problematic.  

But now in this equal-opportunity era, here is Ranger Bigbear giving a really excellent and accurate narration of the events that occurred in the Assembly Room when the Founding Fathers gathered there.  Highly educational and enjoyable - if you can keep your mind on the history.

By the way, various authoritative sources tell me that the Assembly Room where the delegates met and debated is about 40 by 40 feet - more than twice the size of a typical high-school classroom today.  About 60 delegates attended in the summer of 1776; 56 of them signed the Declaration sometime in August - not on July 4th.  Believe it or not!

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America: What's It All About?

The late historian David McCullough (1933-2022), renowned author of presidential biographies and other best-selling books, discusses American ideas and ideals - and then-president Trump - with interviewer Charlie Rose in 2017.  One cannot understand the present without understanding the past.

This interview is well worth your time.  McCullough is easy to listen to, and his voice may sound familiar.  He has has narrated many Ken Burns miniseries and other PBS documentaries.

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How Far We've Come

The White House after the Obergefell ruling, June 26, 2015.
Click to enlarge.

As we approach the 250th anniversary of American independence - founded explicitly upon the ideals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness - it is quite poignant for me to reflect upon the evolution of gay rights in my lifetime.  Here are some thought-provoking videos for old and young alike.

Here's Steve Hartman on CBS Sunday Morning in 2015, just after the Supreme Court legalized gay marriage throughout the United States:

But CBS wasn't always so gay-friendly. Author and lecturer Steven Capsuto reviews two CBS News specials from 1967 and 1980:

In case you've never seen it, here is the full 1967 report, The Homosexuals, hosted by Mike Wallace (who later regretted the homophobic remarks he made at the time):

I was in high school then and never saw that report, which is just as well. I had fooled around with some boys my own age, but for many years to come, I still envisioned growing up and getting married to a woman one day - with the cozy cottage, the picket fence, the 2.5 kids - that happily-ever-after presented in books and movies and TV shows, not to mention the Bible.  Why wouldn't you want that?  That's just what grown-ups did, like your parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, and everyone else in your church and your neighborhood.  A desirable, and indeed necessary outcome for most of the human race.

But some of us are not called to that conclusion.  I didn't know I was gay in 1967 - "gay" meaning homosexual was not part of everyday speech until the Gay Liberation marches and protests in 1970 and thereafter made national news. And I certainly didn't think of myself as a homo or a queer - those awful monsters who lurked in dark alleys that everyone hated - but no one ever saw in the light of day. Mainly they were just schoolard taunts. 

But the awful, unwelcome truth dawned on me before I finished high school, and I spent most of the next decade trying to pray it away.  By 1980, though, I had come out at college, and after Woodstock, Vietnam, and Watergate - not to mention Deep Throat, Playgirl and Barbara Eden's navel - the big-city world had changed a great deal. News coverage of Gay Lib - later Gay Pride - made people aware of things they never knew existed before, and gay people far from the east and west coasts began to come out and find one another - but changes in traditional attitudes in the Deep South were still small and slow. 

It was nothing at all like San Francisco - which from this late date appears as a carnival of the doomed, as shown in this report, Gay Power, Gay Politics:

Still to come were the AIDS crisis, ACT UP, and the Quilt; and beyond that, the long struggles in the courts and legislatures to gain the right to hold a job, join the military, and get married.  I'll be posting more historical videos and links this month that may touch on those subjects and others.

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

--George Santayana

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My 5000th Post - Happy Pride!

Do you know that June 26 is a momentous day in gay rights history?  On this date in 2003, 2013, and 2015, the United States Supreme Court made three major rulings that firmly established our right to love whom we love, serve in the military, and get married.  Look those up here.

And today the Blue Truck has passed a big milestone - 5000 posts, over 9000 comments, nearly 4 million pageviews, according to my Blogger dashboard:

Click to enlarge.

So instead of the usual Friday men, here's a rerun of me and M.P. back in June of 2010, cooling off and splashing around at Chickasaw National Recreation Area, a beautiful big green park up in Oklahoma.

Now much less adventurous in our 70s, we're content just to stay home, out of the sun and under the a/c.  We well recall a time when "homosexual" was a dirty word, a mortal sin, a major crime, and a psychotic disorder, and are very grateful that we have lived to see gay couples living together openly and happily just as all other ordinary people do.

Hope all my truckbuddies are having a great weekend wherever you are.  Life is a rolling river - enjoy what you can while you can. 

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Southern Pride Chicken

We didn't think to take a picture, but it looked like this,
with an even coating of golden brown crust.
Photo by David Reber from Paschal's restaurant in Atlanta via Wikipedia.

If you're wondering what to make for Sunday dinner this coming weekend, why not treat yourself to some honest-to-God Southern fried chicken?  I learned how to cook it from my grandmother, and made it a couple of weekends ago for M.P., who raved over it.  I was proud of my chicken, M.P. was proud of me, and it's Pride Month - hence the name.  It's a simple thing, but as all us Southern boys know, the best thing in the world!  Mmm-mm.  I tell you what!

So here is the recipe as my dear Grandma made it (minus the tenderizer and hot sauce) nearly every Sunday when I was growing up.  Read everything before doing anything.  Enjoy!

SOUTHERN  PRIDE  CHICKEN

by Russ Manley, June 2026

Ingredients:

4 leg quarters, disjointed

(= 4 thighs and 4 drumsticks)

1½  to 2 cups flour

salt and pepper

celery salt

Adolph’s meat tenderizer

Louisiana Hot Sauce™ or cayenne (optional)

2 eggs, beaten to a froth

1½ to 2 cups canola oil

¾ cup milk (for gravy)

Allow 2 or 3 pieces per serving, depending on age and appetite.

Prep time, about half an hour.  Rest time for chicken, 1-2 hours.  Cooking time, about an hour.

Directions continue after the jump: