A Man in a Woman's Club

My class went on a fieldtrip today, to the Belmont Women's Club. I was just grateful they let me in, frankly. Virtually the only think I have in common with the organization is the Belmont part... We walked through the pouring rain with not-a-few umbrellas and chaperoning parents. We were a good sight, causing heads to turn like those disjointed owls that you see on the discovery channel; you know the ones. Once we got to the Homer House, as it is called (Winslow Homer's uncle owned the house and Homer was known to paint there in the summers), we were greeted by a Victorian-clad octogenarian who gave us a speech about the living room. The staccatoed apex of the presentation came when the lady in charge asked me, in front of forty two students, two teachers and ten parents, "Which one is your child?" I would have been absolutely delighted to answer with a bit of humor ("I have the twins there in the front row"), but my teacher came to the rescue commenting that I was her teaching assistant. I was just thrilled that she thought I was senior enough to have an eight year old child! We got a tour of the whole house which was historic and fairly typical for homes of that era, and then got some ice cream and strawberries to commemorate the annual Strawberry Festival. The "Festival" has become more filiopietistic than practical since all the strawberry plants in the area have mostly been destroyed. The rain didn't drench out spirits, and the fieldtrip was a smashing success; I would rate the day with an A.