THE AUTUMN CHICKENS

The third man wasn't there because he and Henry were going off to a dance. Or something. It was something that a family association or benevolent society organized, the giddy social whirl of elderly American Born Chinese long since retired. I am, naturally, imagining a party with spry little four and a half foot tall ladies still trim and active, silver hair and twinkling eyes. Such as the ballroom events at a nearby restaurant a few years ago.
The older generation was shorter.

My mother, of Scots-Irish and Dutch ancestry, was a giantess.
Four foot eleven. But nearly a foot less than my father.
She was two inches taller than his mother.


And, speaking of such things, little Bo' Peep got on the bus when I was heading home.
Well over six feet tall. With a five o'clock shadow. And a frilly parasol. Okay?
Not all cross-dressers are equal. Some are more so than others.

It stands to reason that back in the day cross-dressers were more petite.
I miss the days when a cross-dresser was a lady.
A kinder, gentler era.

Seeing as I felt quite dwarfed with this humongous little shepherdess standing right next to me, I couldn't wait to get off the bus. I'm just not very comfortable with large people standing quite so close. And I wanted to relight my pipe and breathe. Rush hour busses are always too crowded, and if you're sitting down in some seats that puts your eyes at crotch or arse level. In San Francisco, the less said about that the better.

Still, that's better than establishing eye contact. With someone wearing a poofy blue velvet mini-skirt and flouncy petticoats. I would not have been able to establish eye contact anyway, because of the height differential, and I tend to not do that even with people my own height. The perfect date, in other words, would be with someone who might hold my gaze.
Even though that could be uncomfortable.

Life often consists of exercises in looking elsewhere.


The handsome briar I was smoking after tea is of the some vintage as all the gentlemen mentioned earlier. Who probably had young sprightly four and a half foot girlfriends back in the day, tall willowy creatures for that time and that place. Somebody sporting that particular pipe would have been quite dashing and Bohemian then. Foxy, ooooh!

I would probably have had to learn how to dance.
It was much more common then.



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