Proper Due
As we move toward the end of the year, the Award Season will soon be upon us. Time magazine will name its person of the year. Academy Award nominees will flood the screen. And the Rose Bowl, Sugar Bowl, and Oatmeal Bowl will host the Big Ten, the Significant Seven, or the Nincompoop Nine for couch potatoes’ pleasure. Even the Cow of Chick-fil-A and the Geico Gecko will compete with Janet Jackson’s wardrobe for half-time attention. But what about the many world-changing individuals who go unrecognized?
Latter Days a marvelous 2003 movie about a young Mormon missionary in West Hollywood, never, to my knowledge, won any top prizes. But one of the opening scenes is a classic I frequently recall. A handsome young Mormon missionary in a crisp white shirt, narrow black tie and neatly pressed black slacks randomly knocks on doors hoping for an opportunity to convert an innocent occupant to his religion. He’s invited into the apartment of a young, equally good looking gay man who patiently listens to the religious spiel. When the missionary realizes his pitch is falling on deaf ears, in exasperation, he questions, “Don’t you believe in anything?”
The gay man’s indignant response is, “I certainly do.” After a thoughtful pause he continues, “I believe Ann-Margret has never received her proper due.”
I happen to agree, but Ann-Margret is only one of many who have never received their proper due. Perhaps a Proper Due Award is needed by one of our national publications. My nominee for the award is Bob Dole.
Yes, Dole was a World War II Purple Heart recipient. He was the Senator from Kansas for more than two decades and a presidential candidate in 1996. But all those accomplishments have received recognition. He has, however, never received his proper due for being the initial spokesman for Viagra.
When Pfizer launched the drug in 1998, E.D. was apt to be confused with Steven Spielberg’s E.T. No one spoke about erectile dysfunction publicly or privately. It was neither a locker room subject nor a physician’s office topic. Dole’s willingness to be Mr. Viagra was the initial tremor that has spawned a pharmaceutical and sexual tsunami. Thanks in large part to Bob Dole, erectile dysfunction is now a safe subject for common cocktail conversation.
As a college student, I worked part time at the Campus Shop, a lunch counter/convenience store across the street from the dorms. I began by flipping hamburgers and serving cokes. “Do you want fries with that,” hadn’t as yet come into our lexicon. Within weeks I was promoted to cashier. At that time women’s sanitary products were wrapped in plain brown paper much like pornography attempting to get through the mails unnoticed. I would see women enter the store look around and, if no female clerk was present to assist, they’d leave rather than ask the young man at the cash register—me—where they could find the Kotex.
Guys had it a bit easier. They’d hang round until the coast was clear, then sotto voce in a whisper ask, “You got any rubbers?” I’d look out the window to see if it was raining before I’d reach under the counter and produce the desired merchandise. Now, any drug store or super market has large displays of prophylactics in multiple colors, flavors and textures. The likes of Viagra and Cialis not only flood the TV screens but even claim space in Good Housekeeping and Ladies Home Journal. Like American Express, don’t let your man leave home without it. With luck and Viagra he may be able to dash home for a matinee, or a quickie throughout the day.
I’m not giving Dole full credit for the erectile dysfunction revolution, but having a person of his caliber and stature go on national TV as a spokesman for Viagra is proof that whatever E.D. problems he may or may not have, they obviously aren’t testicular. What he did for men around the world requires gonads the size of volley balls. He deserves the Proper Due Award whenever some editor has the foresight to create it—after Ann-Margret, that is.
John Siegfried, a former Rehoboth resident, lives in Ft. Lauderdale. Email John Siegfried