Month: August 2026

Cult Confessions

mdt1960Leave a comment
Dr. Frank-N-Furter

Somewhere it has been said that the deaths’ of the famous come in threes. That might be, so the passing of Dolly Parton (singer/songwriter, actress), Tim Curry (singer/actor), Jay Maisel (photographer), and Yayoi Kusama (artist) in the latter part of this month has given me some pause.

I know, that’s four famous lost lives.

Although I met Dolly Parton in an exciting moment backstage at the 1978 Ohio State Fair in the form of a brief “hello” and handshake, it is the passing of Tim Curry which moves me the most—in particular his role as Dr. Frank-N-Furter in The Rocky Horror Picture Show (RHPS).

The movie came out in 1975, and flopped. However, upon being released to home video outlets, it broke out just like Dr. Frank-N-Furter throwing off his cape in the early minutes of the movie. As it gained more popularity, movie houses all over the country started showing the film at midnight on the weekends. According to one source, “By the late 1970s, it became a symbol of sexual liberation and self-acceptance, resonating with audiences during that era.”

I was late to the party when it came to attending those midnight, weekend screenings of RHPS. My first viewing of the flick came in the late 70s or very early 80s—probably 1979 or 1980 when I was visiting my family in Ohio between semesters of my undergraduate studies at Arizona State University. The friends that I grew up with in Akron introduced me to the movie one Saturday night in nearby Kent—home of Kent State University.

Sure, it was a bit outrageous in my first viewing since my chums failed to truly explain the movie’s plot before attending, but it was one of those, “Oh Morgan, you’ve got to see this movie!” The reason why I say it was only “a bit outrageous” was that the film wasn’t a stretch from attending the two Queen concerts during my high school years featuring the band’s flamboyant front-man Freddie Mercury. Tim Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter in drag was simply an exaggerated version of Mercury. Curry once said, “It was part of the sexual revolution, really. Experiment was in the air and it was palpable. I gave them permission to be who they discovered they wanted to be. I’m proud of that.” I can’t say the film changed any of us, but we were certainly beguiled every time we attended.

To be clear, we were typical Midwestern, straight young men who all came from working, middle-class families—mom’s at home and dad’s at work as tire factory workers, surveyors, plumbers, or mail carriers. And every time I was back for a visit, we’d head to Kent for another midnight screening of the film followed up by a visit to whatever all-night diner we could find in Kent or somewhere along the way home.

For whatever it’s worth, although we saw the movie on countless occasions over some ten years, we were never the fans/groupies who dressed up as RHPS characters, but we were tickled that others were because that made attending all that more exciting, dare I say, “delicious?” However, I think there was one occasion when we brought some toast and rice with us. I’ve always said that Dr. Strangelove is my favorite movie of all time, but I’m confident that I’ve viewed RHPS more… even more than The Wizard of Oz.

I really can’t articulate why we went to this movie so often. If I had to answer the question today, I would chalk it up to the costume imagery of the movie and, for sure, the soundtrack. We were certainly aware of the undertones of homo/bi-sexuality, but whatever discussions we had on this topic, it wasn’t something we obsessed over. Perhaps we were simply a little too naive when it came to anything beyond matters of the heterosexual. For me the film’s music and imagery equaled Jesus Christ Superstar—another film and soundtrack of our youth. Whether it’s The Time Warp, or Sweet Transvestite, I assure you I know all the words to both songs. They are both on one of my Spotify playlists.

In recalling these memories, I have to wonder how this movie would be received today by the same demographic… in places like Akron, or better yet, Powell, Wyoming. One part of me thinks it would be viewed as anything but artistic in its music and costume design. In a time when Christian nationalism is mainstream-to-widespread, my hunch is it would be viewed as lewd and downright wicked. Though I don’t recall, I’m sure there were those back then who viewed it in the same light, but not our little band of straight, young men.

On the surface there would seem to be a great contrast between Dolly Parton and Tim Curry. Yet, beyond the stage, studios, and movie sets, I suspect they had much more in common. Have you ever heard some of Dolly Parton’s off color jokes? I’d even go as far and bet that Parton herself viewed The Rocky Horror Picture Show and loved it.

Don’t get strung out by the way I look.
Don’t judge a book by its cover.
I’m not much of a man by the light of day,
but by night I’m one hell of a lover!
—Dr. Frank-N-Furter

Do-Gooders On Parade

mdt1960Leave a comment

It’s not too unusual to name inanimate things after those who helped make them happen… think Carnegie Hall, Mercedes Benz Stadium, Guggenheim Museum, or the upcoming completion of the Bill and Melinda Gates Mega Data Center (ha, just kidding on that last one, but it’s not a reach). Of course, those examples are of the grandest scale, but it happens at all levels, including right here at our local college in podunk, Powell, Wyoming.

At Northwest College, there is certainly nothing unique in how they roll out their financial donors for display at any given place on campus. I’ve seen this at other institutions, but maybe not quite as pronounced as it is with this little junior college in Northwest Wyoming.

Most recently there is the new Student Center and it is littered with plaques/signs mentioning the generous giving regarding some of Powell’s finest… you know, the most affluent citizens and businesses. For example, there’s the “Majorie Fryer Wilder Fireplace,” the “Cummins Veteran’s Lounge,” and there’s even a “Jim Vogt Family Overlook” which is a bunch of chairs on the second floor of the Student Center overlooking the main mall. Keep in mind, this is just one building I’m talking about here. Further, there’s the “Big Horn Federal Gallery Wall,” the “Bill and Karen Hayes Study Room,” and of course the “Bonner Family Dining Plaza.” Hell, it just wouldn’t be a Northwest College building if it didn’t have the name Bonner splattered on some plaque, panel, or wall in a prominent location. 

When I see these kind of displays, it makes me even less enthusiastic to give. It reminds me of those do-gooder lists that were posted in grade school that had gold stars next to student names for various accomplishments in the classroom. Kathy Murphy’s name would have a gazillion stars by her name and then on the same list there was Gary Wade’s name with only two stars—neither was gold, and only hand-drawn by the teacher with a Bic disposable pen. I remember wondering how Gary felt to see his name on that list compared to everyone else.

In pondering this, I’m reminded of those sponsorships that show up on professional team uniforms and the renaming of stadiums/arenas after banks and big corporations. The University of Wyoming is one of the few holdouts to this trend, clinging fast to their football stadium’s name of War Memorial Stadium. I wonder how much longer can they hold out before some big oil corporation throws enough money at the school to change the venue’s name. America and its money obsession… what a country!

It’s no secret that I’ve never been much of a donor to the NWC cause. I’d like to think that the compensation I received matched the effort I put in over those 33 years. I know there were some who gave more effort and others who coasted through during their entire tenure, but I feel that the college and I are square. Whatever money I’ve given back to the college, I’ve done it anonymously and in modest amounts. My favorite mode of giving has always been informal—an occasional large tip to the baristas at the coffee counter in the student center, including an extra $5 with my popcorn or candy at the concession stand for athletic events, and paying art students a little extra over their asking price when purchasing their works.

My objective here is not to embarrass or ridicule those who have made significant contributions that resulted in their names permanently bonded to a building for everyone to see. I suspect many of them don’t care if their name is on any given placard or not. My question is simple: What does seeing those names do for the average, low-to-middle income citizen (myself included here) who hasn’t given or can’t give due to financial shortcomings? Is it suppose to inspire us to do the same, or does it just make for a public acknowledgement of those who have and those who have not? In short, it smacks of elitism. Whatever happened to giving anonymously—when did that go out of style? Imagine coming upon a panel or wall with numerous listings of “anonymous” only—yet still including the different sizes of each based on the amount given. How refreshing would that be? Perhaps institutions like Northwest College believe that the posting of names is actually encouraging of other potential donors. Yet in my case, it’s a huge turnoff. 

Given all the do-gooders listed just in the new student center, I have a modest request: How much money is required of me to have a small plaque installed with my name on it (including my years of service) above one of the many mens’ urinals on campus?

Just one, that’s all I ask.

So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. —Matthew 6:2–5

Postscript: While Northwest College is preparing to introduce a new convoluted (and likely expensive) marketing campaign that doesn’t include changing its name to “Yellowstone College,” Laramie County Community College, President Joe Schaffer announced plans to recommend changing the school’s name to Wyoming State College. The proposal goes to the Board of Trustees for a formal vote on September 16, 2026, with an official transition target date of July 1, 2027, if approved.

Why the Change is Proposed…
• Better Recognition: Research showed the current county-specific name limits recruitment and causes confusion outside the immediate region.
• Broader Reach: Leaders aim to attract more students across state lines and boost long-term enrollment.
• Strategic Growth: The update removes geographic barriers while keeping the core mission, local commitment, and Golden Eagles mascot intact.

Downgrading Summer

mdt1960Leave a comment
The McCullough Peaks on one of the more “clear” days in early August

What has happened to my favorite time of the year, summer?

In a word, “smoke.” That is, smoke from forest fires has ruined the season of summer.

I remember growing up in Ohio during the months of July and August, sometimes the sun would get very orange or red as it was setting. Often the overtly orange or red sunsets were attributed to “fires in the West” by various individuals who may have known or not about such atmospheric conditions. At times I wasn’t convinced because I knew high humidity had a hand in the warm-colored sunsets too. Whatever the case was, I certainly could never smell it.

I know there have been forest fires nearly every summer, but I don’t remember them being so “present” before… say, around 2010. By present I mean, you can smell it and you can’t see more than five miles.

Today as I looked around, the horizon offered nothing but smoggy endlessness. Nevermind that the Big Horn and Beartooth mountains—stalwart landmarks of this area—are hidden. Along with that, the much closer Heart Mountain, McCullough Peaks and Polecat Bench (home of the Powell airport) also vanished in the toxic haze.

Whatever I’m allergic to these days, causing my eyes to water profusely, I’m confident that the smoke is—at the least—exacerbating my condition.

At 66-years of age, my tolerance for heat isn’t what it used to be, but I’d never downgrade summer because of that. But with anywhere from a month to two months of debilitating smoke, the seasons of spring and autumn are looking better all the time.

Greenland is melting, the west is on fire,
But don’t ever stop praying for rain.
It’s a curious place between hope and desire
Different gods, but the prayer is the same.

—Mary Chapin Carpenter, from The Age of Miracles