What I have not mentioned yet is SV's wedding last weekend, storybook-gorgeous & swank. The reception was held at a disgustingly exclusive club in Louisville which I will here refer to as the Penis Club since that is a) orthographically close to the actual name of the club & b) sort of like a little nod to the good-old-boy exclusivity it embodies. There were at least two open bars on every floor of the club. There were minority employees of both genders walking around in white shirts offering people canap�s. There was, on the wall of the smoking lounge, a painting of a devoted
minstrel. Excessive. Exclusive.
But the point is that SV's father went to Kenyon, way back in the day, so all evening buddies of his who had graduated in the early 60s kept coming up to me. I suppose they were clued in that the tall lady with the tattooed arm was Of Their Kind. They would approach me in these little scotch-&-cigar hazes & hit me up, ask me to sing the songs.
Sample conversation:Good Old Boy: What year did you graduate?
Me: '99.
Good Old Boy: And Old Ken-Yon! (wink. wink.)
Yes, there were also requests for the Philander Chase song. No, I did not sing any songs. No, I did not say anything about asphodel.
Also creepy was the frequency that these Good Old Boys would mention that it is odd for them, returning to Gambier (for kicks, I guess) throughout the school year, to see women students! gasp!
