Saturday, September 27, 2014



Many years ago, when I was a helluva lot more agile than I am today, I was a member of a peripatetic (not "very pathetic" as some of our critics said) theater troupe that specialized in shows for children, reinterpreting Grimm fairy tales and Mother Goose rhymes. In one production I played the Frog waiting for the kiss that would change him back into the Prince he had been before the Wicked Witch transformed him. During out first rehearsal I was wearing a waist-high green leotard under my pants, the first time I had ever worn one. For some reason I had forgotten my basic rule not to drink anything within four hours of a rehearsal or performance; so, after a few hours of our work-out, during which I hopped around until my thighs ached, I had to "go." Putting it off as long as possible, I finally ran to the john, unzipping as I went. At the urinal I discovered too late that there was NO FLY! By the time I unbelted, and lowered my green bottom, it was too late. It was a bit embarrassing returning to the stage with blatantly soaked pants! I recall this amusing little incident only because: For my 80th birthday I received, among other things, four colored Hanes briefs. (For reasons I won't go into here, I was glad they were not white.) I was wearing one of them the other day, a fine green-and-blue one (after modeling it for some of my lady visitors), while working on some poetry on my computer. Again, I had to "go," but kept delaying it , so as not to interrupt my creative flow (sic). Finally, I ran to the john (deja vu), unzipping on the way, starting to dribble. Again, too late, I discovered what for some reason I had not noted before: NO FLY! At least this time no one saw my wet pants ...

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