Because I dislike one-dimensional portrayals of people, places or events, I dread rocketing an "Huzzah, Williamsburg" moment into the atmosphere, but launch, I must.

Bored by McCullough's 1776, I decided to reread his brilliant John Adams (the film version of which Tom Hanks will soon be here, filming). Later, finding myself at pre-cocktail loose ends and being in a patriotic state of mind, I strolled over to the DeWitt Wallace Museum to view a copy of the constitution. Imagine my delight when I spied, among a dazzling document display, a letter and envelope from John Adams to Dr. Benjamin Rush (I believe dated 1809). It's moments like these that illuminate the historic district's value (not to devalue the Grand Illumination fireworks).

Forget Greater Williamsburg's 101 pancake houses, and Merchant Square's highly priced haberdashery. Ignore the fact that one can enjoy fine dining and engage in leisurely, European-style people watching while sitting yards away from one of America's most venerable educational fortresses, the College of William and Mary.

Williamsburg's real allure lies in its ability to bridge past and present while providing hope that this link may improve our future. Due to a variety of worldwide disasters, including the hurricane victims' woes, it's difficult to enjoy all this luxury without a large lump in the throat. Our prayers go out to all these people and I know without a doubt that the citizens of Williamsburg are eager to assist families that might soon relocate to (as my violin teacher, Ms. Stephens always says) "the 'Burg."

Bruton Parish had a good turnout this Sunday, and I'm glad to report that the choir-which performed sans tambourine--were in fine Anglican form. Previous performances caused me to worry that someone might, a la Pee Wee Herman, liberate snakes from a box (versus a pet store), and begin handling the irritated reptiles.

That thought compels me to relate an endearing clerical story.

My Church of the Nazarene cousin/minister, his wife "Kay" and their preschool children were visiting my parents several years ago. In an attempt to entertain the tots, my staunch Baptist mom popped a copy of Disney's "Beauty and the Beast" into her VCR.

"Kay" errupted in righteous indignation, sped to the entertainment center, and ejected the offending tape while condemning the film for its portrayal of bestiality (I always suspected that Mickey & Minnie Mouse dwelt behind a hole in our living room wall, knocking collective boots-if mother had realized this, she would've given me the Cinderella watch I requested, NOT that hideous Minnie timepiece)!

Poor mother felt so scandalized; when she related the incident to me over the phone, she couldn't force herself to repeat the 'b' word. She muttered, instead, the phrase "animals doing 'you know what" with people."

I'm still shocked and highly amused that anyone got away with uttering "bestiality" in mother's living room without suffering a severe spanking for citing a copulation-based term, not to mention one involving interspecies "relationships" (a status probably not vilified in the Episcopal faith, but rather placed in our burgeoning "misunderstood persons/animals" file).

My mother is a very talented, if somewhat puritanical, woman. She claims the ability to look at strangers and determine by their appearance whether the person is gay, OR a teacher. I'm not certain how she uses this skill, but I hope one day she encounters a gay schoolteacher--her head might pop up like a Rockem Sockem Robot. Remember those?

Since I love the past, my wardrobe contains some righteously cool, historically correct, vintage t-shirts. Nicked them from my better half. These shirts are so hipster they should be displayed on the streets of Williamsburg, NY, not Colonial Williamsburg, Va. A Colonial Williamsburg hipster is someone who's just had hip replacement surgery. Sometimes you can spot a group of them gingerly swaying along Duke of Gloucester (DOG) St., like a human RV caravan. Must be quite therapeutic. I admire our seniors.

But anyway, I've got a Dead Kennedy's CIA Cambodia shirt and a Bones shirt, and human rights shirts circa the 1980s--too cool! I'm actually afraid to wear them around outdoors (and don't want to offend anyone--not very hipster); though I do jog in the Bones number. Am not too worried about the skateboarding skeleton figure, since I speed along fast enough to avoid a tongue-lashing. I'm often concerned that someone will stop me when I sport Rocco's Devil Bear, and inquire if I'm a Satanist. I won't be total hipster cool until I don a pair of cowboy boots, but I'm on the hunt for a pair--Frye, naturally (don't worry--I promise not to pair them with shorts).

Speaking of hunting, "There's a bar in them thar Hills!" Richmond Hill residents reported sighting a black bear lumbering around their yards. Word is they think it may be a young male who left the Dismal Swamp for a classier location. Obviously, this is a bear with good taste. A bear desirous of sumptious, seven-figure, in-town living. A life long local (LLL) disputes the Dismal Swamp theory. Personally, I hope the new resident acquires a trophy wife and Mercedes, and makes himself at home for a spell.

We need a colonial sleuth to solve the "Bicentennial Park Mystery!" While Richmond Hillbillies hide their pic-a-nic baskets and phone the park ranger, something carniverous lurks in Bicentennial Park. Something which is slaughtering racoons, squirrels and other hapless creatures by the light of the silvery moon. Is it a fox? A renegade, far-roaming, blood-lust filled corgi released for a midnight consitutional? Has our southern hospitality somehow failed the animal kingdom, thus creating a confused, Godzilla-like creature determined to leave bloody sacrifices at the foot of the Confederate Memorial statue? At present, I'm glad to report that the last, rotting corpse disintegrated. Why don't landscape crews remove these nocturnal victims? Yuck! Of course, every Williamsburg canine wants to roll in the unfortunates' remains. Ewwww! I'm talking Quadruple Doggieness.

I declare! Thanks to everyone for reading my first blog. I promise I'll learn how to incorporate links and photos, use spell check, and edit length...but presently, I need to hurricane-proof my yard, since Ophelia seems determined to visit. After I complete that task, I think I'll surf E-Bay and see if they're auctioning any vintage Cinderella watches (just to spite mother, of course--love ya, ma).