To Love as One’s Own

When I was in college I volunteered at a hippie day care center where my favorite child was a toddler named Free. He was just learning to talk and had a limited vocabulary. Nonetheless he was an effective communicator because every other word out of his mouth was “fuck.” I loved that baby.

All of my life I’ve given back to the community: I did one of the first big fundraisers for the AIDS Foundation in 1983; I did another fundraiser for the Library’s LGBT reading room in 1995; and, for several years I was a volunteer at the Bessie Carmichael School in the City. Recently I’ve been helping out my neighbor who’s had a medical setback.

Now that Ben is getting stronger and is home from the rehab facility, reunited with my god-diggity-dog daughter Sydney, I was starting to sense a void in my daily schedule. Then a message from the Department of Public Works crossed my laptop. They have an Adopt a Drain Program and need my help.

If you’re willing to put a little elbow grease into keeping it clean before and after storms, you are granted naming rights for that drain. A win/win, what better use of my talents?

Pondering the history of adoptions I, of course, thought of Joan Crawford’s work in the 1940s. Her legendary efforts inspired the name for my adopted sewer drain at the corner of Laguna and Waller: No Wire Hangers!!!

Because I am not one of your F-A-N-S!