Oh, dykes, it’s been ages since our last post. Oh, how we’ve missed you. And how you, no doubt, have missed us in return. But let’s shut up about it! We got bigger fish to fry (forgive the cliche, but any blog devoted to Catholicism and dykeness must contain the occasional fish reference). Jane Lynch wrote a book, and we like it.
In Happy Accidents, Jane Lynch’s bestselling new memoir, Lynch tells tales of childhood, Catholic school, the closet, improv theater, alcoholism, Harrison Ford, Christopher Guest, Glee, and marriage to a lovely Southern lady by the name of Lara Embry. Lynch’s book is not always laugh-out-loud funny but contains plenty of wonderful, self-deprecating wit, and it’s serious but does not take itself too seriously. What a lady that Jane Lynch is!
There’s a lot to like about Happy Accidents, and while I think it would be relatable for just about anyone, it does have special resonance for gay ladies. Or it did for me. Because, you see, Jane Lynch was once a little closeted, red state gay girl not unlike I was, wanting to play football and wear neckties, terrified of admitting–of anyone finding out–that she was definitely, definitely gay.
And then there’s the Catholic-ness. My personal favorite anecdote in the entire book involves Jane’s cutting class with best friend Chris (also gay, also closeted, also a student at St. Jude’s) on Ash Wednesday to go to the Chicken Unlimited, where they ate fries, drank cokes, and smeared cigarette ashes on one another’s foreheads.
There is plenty more, of course. Lynch digs up her adolescent scrapbook, in which she had labeled pictures of Happy Days-era Ronny Howard and Anson Williams with the words, “Foxy,” and “Pretty Good Foxy,” respectively, and writes of being “delighted to find [the scrapbook] was a proud monument to absolute mediocrity.” I hope that someday, I shall look back and say the same of this very blog.