Ask It Basket–"When was the last time you passed out on top of a bus?"
A real question I wanted to ask a grandmother who found that part of my story personally relatable, but didn't. This post is excerpted from my book, WHY: A Memoir
The below is an excerpt from my book WHY: A Memoir.
A few things to keep in mind: Ask-It Basket posts are usually questions directed toward me. This one is a question I wish I would have asked Earth-Tone Granny. Also, names of the people mentioned have been changed, and this scene happened before I married Dan and took his name. At the time the below happened, I was still Randy Thomas. Now, go read this funny ass story.
They were Fresno Grannies. I am sure they have probably been friends since grade school. They had that vibe. One dressed in earth tones with salt and pepper hair pulled up into a loose bun. Her friend looked like Mrs. Claus (you know, Santa’s wife) but in all blue and white. Her minimalist color scheme matched her eyes and hair, respectively. She was very prim and put together. She also had her hair up in a tight bun. Earth-Tone Grandma was talkative while Mrs. Claus had left the North Pole perma-frost and instead adopted a perma-grin. She never stopped smiling the same smile. Mrs. Claus was cute, and though a perma-grin can tend to be unnerving, Mrs. Claus’ wasn’t.
We were at a Love Won Out conference put together by Exodus International and Focus on the Family. Yet another controversial conference presenting stigmatized views concerning homosexuality and Christianity from an ex-gay/conversion ministry perspective that we honestly thought was “loving.” I was there as an employee. I went to over 30 of these events over the years, and all kinds of folks attended them. As such, to see a pair of older women walk through the doors was not uncommon. It was also not unusual for people to ask me questions; my name tag let them know I worked with the conference.
When this pair walked up to me, Earth-Tone Grandma looked up with squinted eyes, a shaky, elderly voice, and a pointy, arthritic finger. “Are you that Randy Thomas?”
I answered, “Yes, ma’am,” while wondering why she emphasized the word “that.”
Her eyes opened a little further; the pointy finger became a softened hand resting on her opposite shoulder. “The Randy Thomas who wrote a few chapters in Roger Tompkins’ book about God’s grace and the homosexuals?”
Not exactly sure where this was going, I answered again, “Yes, ma’am.”
Her bright brown eyes were Earth-Tone Grandma’s most fantastic attribute. They were wide now, not squinty, and she said with a bit of excitement in her shaky voice, “You’re the Randy Thomas who went to Daytona Beach on your senior vacation, got high, and passed out on top of a bus?”
As she spoke, her friend (Mrs. Perma-Grin Claus) didn’t bat an eye, and her grin never faltered. As her eyes locked on me, I nearly peed my pants. I’ve never been asked a question like that before at 7:45 in the morning by a grandmother.
I did write about that wild Daytona experience for Roger’s first book (which was ripped off the shelves by his publisher when we closed Exodus), but that was the last thing I expected to come out of Earth-Tone Grandma’s mouth. After catching my breath, I looked from one to the other and said, “Uh… Yes, um… yeah. That was me.”
Earth-Tone Grandma’s eyes lit up with joy. She threw both arms out wide and with the biggest, most heartwarming smile, cried, “Oh my goodness!! WE ARE KINDRED SPIRITS!” And while she was hugging the life out of me, as all good grandmothers know how to do, I looked at Mrs. Perma-Grin Claus standing to the side, and her perma-grin was a full-on delighted smile.
Earth-Tone Grandma smelled like toast. I didn’t have a choice but to notice the toasty aroma of her embrace. I enjoyed Earth-Tone Grandma’s exuberant, happiness-filled hugs and exclamations of “I am so happy to meet you!”
I was amused and said, “Well, I am glad to know that we are kindred spirits, and thanks for the encouragement!” At the same time, I was dying to ask the question of my newly declared kindred spirit, “Soooo… When was the last time you got high and passed out on top of a bus?”
I didn’t ask, but I should have.
Do you have a question for the Ask It Basket? Nothing is off the table.
