Myrtle's Identity Crisis

The Old Man has been hearing a lot lately about folks who seem to have a bit of trouble figuring out just who or what they are. You used to be able to tell right off whether that pleasant figure you were following was a girl or a boy. Then the "Hippy Movement" came along and all bets were off. Male, female, it made no difference....they both had the same hair styles.

Now it seems there are even more people who are confused. Some aren't happy with their gender, others aren't happy with their wardrobe. Some are winking at each other, and some are hiding out in closets.
Even the military has gotten into the act, and contributed to the confusion.
None of this matters much to me; I only have one question for any soldier or potential soldier, "Can you shoot?"

Back in Bedford there were rumors of a couple of guys who listened to a different drummer, but everyone with whom I ever came in regular contact seemed to have a pretty clear understanding of their fit in the universe. There were no grey areas. You shot marbles and smelled bad, or you played with dolls and were frilly. Around 12 or 13 when we all hit the hormone highway, things got even clearer.

But alas, confusion has come to The Old Man's realm. My dear Myrtle has become twisted and can't figure out her proper role in life. I've nurtured her from the time we began our relationship, keeping her fed, hydrated, and given her regular grooming. But now Myrtle is struggling with color issues. She's displaying such disparity as to be unsettling. Here's what I mean.

When she was first born as an offshoot of an existing plant, she was purely pink. I know. I transplanted her myself from one spot in the yard to her current location. But now, Myrtle is displaying two distinct colors, purple and pink. There is no crossover. Pink doesn't turn to purple or vice versa.

But even in her confusion, I still love and support her. Maybe she needs counseling. I'll call Dr. Phil or Oprah.