A stream-of consciousness episode I had yesterday led me to look for a couple of old high-school classmates on Facebook.  I was interested in a particular man who came up to me in a restaurant last time I was in my hometown.  He didn’t take off his Stetson, extend his hand, or really even say hello. He just said, “Whar you livin’ now?”  I told him, and he responded by saying,”I think they got a lotta them librals out there, don’t they?”  I acted like I hadn’t heard him, stood up, offered him my hand, and said,”It’s nice to see you too. How are you?” Turns out, he grew up to be extremely bigoted in a number of ways.

Well, while stalking this man’s former wife, I came across the site of his very handsome and successful son, now a middle-aged entrepreneur who lives far way.  But what interested me were these great pictures of that son marching in front of an LGBTQ band, twirling batons.

Sure looks like fun to me.  I loved doing just that in our high school band many years ago.

You know, bigotry is never a good idea.