halfway there by terry ernest
See Ya
On The
FlipSide
If you ever owned a pet rock you might be halfway there. groovy. I also loved groovy things unless they became too
Back in the days when Nixon was busy trying to get his ass intense of course and then they were heavy, man. ‘How’s it
out of the fire amidst the iniquitous Watergate scandal, my hanging?’ was another term of the day but one I rarely ever
buddies and I were just breaking into the gay club scene in used. I couldn’t get past the sexual connotation it provoked
Chicago. Everything weekend-oriented revolved around and giggling when saying it, or when another man said it to
a few blocks on North Clark Street or department store row you, was tantamount to outing yourself. And that was some-
“Radical and
on State Street near Madison. It was all about what you wore thing we didn’t do until the 1980s.
and how you wore it. Shorts and flip-flops, blue jeans and tee Often the disparity in slang between generations can be
righteous replaced
shirts – fine for out and about but not at the clubs. Our jeans amusing and confusing. Take the repartee in the classic 1980
were skin-tight and in every color but blue. Blue jeans were film Airplane between jive lady Barbara Billingsley and the
cool and groovy
considered bourgeois at the clubs, or what we used to call two jive dudes. While it seemed clear that they knew what
‘south-side.’ Unless you knew how to work the bouncer at the was going on in that scene, the rest of us were left hanging
in the mid-1970s door, blue jeans never got in. The really cool guys (or ‘north- clutching only our Funk & Wagnalls. It seems as though the
about the same
side’ boys in our young 1970s vernacular) got all the perks, slang of youth is as time-rendering as hairstyles and head-
poppers and pick of the litter. Back in the 1940s (way before lights. Radical and righteous replaced cool and groovy in the
time polyester
my time) north-side boys were called ‘top-drawer’ which typi- mid-1970s about the same time polyester replaced tie-dye
cally referred to rich boys and not-so-rich boys treading really and Roger Moore replaced Sean Connery.
replaced tie-dye
hard in the water. Even the doctor’s office lingo has its waves of evolution. I can
How wonderful to watch our social evolution and the remember not too long ago when preparing for a digital exam
and Roger Moore
way it drives our dress, our manners and the lexicon. As a meant prettying-up your rear end and hoping you didn’t sprout
teenager I remember how desperately we avoided using the wood in response to finger number one. Today that mindset
replaced
word ‘swell’ even in reference to the perpetual circus in our can be rather embarrassing. On a recent trip to an ENT specialist
pants. After all, that word belonged to our parents’ genera- for a hearing problem, I was escorted to an exam room where I
Sean Connery.” tion and was taboo to the youth of the day. We had our own answered the usual 20 questions and had my temperature and
slang and it was always on the move. The first time I heard the blood pressure checked. The nurse then told me that the doctor
term ‘cheese-eater’ used in the pejorative I just didn’t get it. I would be in shortly to perform a digital exam. I thought, wow,
loved cheese, we all loved cheese. How could that be a bad they are really thorough here so as soon as she stepped out I
thing? When it was explained with the allusion of cutting the dropped my pants and sat on the paper table, hoping he would
cheese, I finally understood that cheese-eating was the same know enough to warm his hands first. Well surprise, surprise,
as brown-nosing. As a burgeoning homosexual however, did my face turn beet red when he rolled into the room with
it took me longer than most to appreciate the downside of a mobile computer instead of a latex glove and tube of KY. It
kissing someone’s ass… but I finally got it. wasn’t all bad though. We had a good laugh at my expense and
One of my favorite terms was ‘freak-out.’ I loved to use that once again I was reminded that you must never assume you
phrase. If my boss doesn’t let me have the weekend off I’m know what anyone is talking about. Say what?
gonna freak-out. You’re grounded for 30 days… freak out! If you ever reprised the now legendary Al Sleet’s hippie-
And of course, stoned on your ass in the middle of a crowded dippie weather man routine in the bathroom mirror using
dance floor what else could you do but freak-out and be your mom’s hairbrush, you’re probably halfway there too.
40 RAGE monthly | MARCH 2009
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