That social icon, Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish, rang me up today to suggest catching up on gossip over—of all things—cocktails. With my shopping for fresh produce at the farmers’ market done, and my mind keen and worthy of juicy gossip, I immediately agreed to meet her. The gentle lady wanted to meet at the discreet German beer house on the corner of Lincoln and Michigan,. so I presumed her need for discretion was valid.

It turned out she had attended a rodeo in Davie. Now, I know nothing of Davie, Florida but for the fact that it holds a rodeo—a gay rodeo—every year. It seems there is a lot to view and that one can even learn to line dance; in Mamie’s case, it was what was to be seen. She showed me many images of strapping, young men on horseback who dared to wave at her as she flailed her parasol before them. I tried to bring up memories of Imperial Guard officers about to go off to the front, but she brushed them aside. Mamie is so egalitarian that she even engaged a handsome bartender at Halo later in the afternoon about the intricate moves of the cowboy line dance. She is nothing but amazing in the broadness of her horizon. Between her relentless efforts to stomp out illiteracy to her study of folk dances of America, I just have no idea why Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish isn’t the Democratic nominee for president.