I’m a southern boy, so is Steve. In actuality we are men over the age of 50 and the fact that we describe ourselves as "southern boys" is as telling of our roots as is the expression itself. I don’t know why, it just is.

I’m from Alabama; Steve’s from Georgia. Last week, on the same day, both states were hit by destructive tornados, and in Steve’s hometown, Atlanta, there was a terrible bus accident. It was not a good day for the southland.

I bring this up because of a series of memories exposed by the rampaging, Alabama tornado. Bear with me. I grew up in north Alabama; the tornado—the bad one at least—was in south Alabama, Enterprise to be exact. I know Enterprise because I had college friends from there, but more importantly because right out of college I worked for a children’s theater company out of Birmingham. Half our time was spent in our home theater, the other in touring the state—including, yes, Enterprise.

Enterprise was one of our favorite stops. Why? Because Enterprise, Alabama is home to the Boll Weevil Monument, and the Boll Weevil Monument was (and still is) one of my favorite things about LA (that’s Lower Alabama, to those of you not from "the heart of Dixie" as the state’s motto proclaims).

Once upon a time the people of Enterprise grew cotton, until, that is, the Boll Weevil caused the cotton crop to fail. Because of this disaster, the resilient people of Enterprise began to grow peanuts, thus escaping the fate of other southern agricultural communities.

The result of this new-found success was a monument to the Boll Weevil. The Boll Weevil Monument stands right in the main crossroads of town. She is especially endearing because the monument is, indeed, a lady clad in classical robes. Over her head she holds a large platter, of sorts, upon which is enthroned, yes, it’s true, a giant Boll Weevil. I kid you not. You can look it up online.

I loved the Boll Weevil Monument long before I actually saw it, not for what it stands for, I’m afraid, but because of its exquisite camp nature. Along with Hank Williams’ grave and Tallulah’s family home, our little troupe of touring actors adored it.

Now I also appreciate it for what it says about living with change—about being flexible, open, and ready for change—and for reminding me about how important it is that we maintain a sense of humor about everything that comes our way.

CAMP Rehoboth was created to deal with the changes being faced by the town of Rehoboth Beach as more and more gay people began to call it home. If there had been no opposition, I wonder if we would exist at all?

Remember the early days of the AIDS epidemic? It was a terrible time for us. Would CAMP Rehoboth exist without the lessons we learned in those days? I don’t know. I do know that our generation was changed by it. I know that I personally was changed by it and that what I learned from dealing with the loss of so many dear friends was crucial to my ability to be able to imagine and build this organization. The seeds of hope and creativity can thrive in a soil of pain, failure, racism, bigotry, homophobia, heartache and despair. They can also be destroyed by them, but without challenge there is no reason to push. Without change there is no reason to change.

Newton’s laws of inertia and mass could be applied to our souls and spirits as well as to objects. "An object at rest tends to stay at rest and an object in motion tends to stay in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force." Inertia is the tendency to resist changes in a state of motion. All too often we find it easier to wait, like objects, for something to move us rather than create the change on our own—to live our lives in a state of reaction rather than one of action.

We are, of course, not objects at all—though we sometimes treat one another as such—but thinking, breathing human beings with the ability to create change, to open minds, to open hearts, to stop wars, to love instead of hate, to make a difference in the world around us.

Last week the people of Enterprise, Alabama were called upon to deal with a force that treated its children, schools and homes as objects. They responded as human beings, ready to face the changes the storm brought to their town. Ready too, I suspect to create buildings more able to handle future storms. Learning from the experience to cope with whatever life throws at them, and I hope, the same determination their ancestors had when they overcame the arrival of the Boll Weevil many years ago.

CAMP Rehoboth is a Boll Weevil Monument of sorts. It too stands as a reminder that change comes from adversity. It too has a certain undeniable "camp" quality. The difference is that we are not objects, but the creators of motion, a positive force for change.

Photo credit: Boll Weevil Monument, Enterprise, Alabama. Photo by Shelley Walton

Thank you to all the CAMP Rehoboth Community Center Volunteers for the period of February 7–March 7.

Marti Austin
Tony Burns
Jim Byrnes
Harvey Chasser
Robert Delanoce
Barb Fishel
Tony Ghigi
Michael Muller
Jim O’Dell
Joie Rake
Barb Ralph
Ken Reilly
Chris Sampson
Guillermo Silveira