Photo: California Governor Ronald Reagan, blindfolded during initiation into the Los Angeles Breakfast Club, 1967 (Los Angeles Times Photographic Archive. Department of Special Collections, Charles E. Young Research Library, UCLA)
And so it didn't take me long after seeing a photo of a blindfolded Ronald Reagan sitting on a sawhorse with his hand in a plate of eggs to know that I wanted to recreate that scene for myself.
So, I grabbed a friend, and then another friend, and we started to meet up with the Los Angeles Breakfast Club nearly every Wednesday morning for some ham 'n' eggs and sing-alongs and secret handshakes and recitations of encrypted text. I knew from that first breakfast that I wanted to become a member.
So, a couple of weeks ago I finally found myself sitting on that sawhorse who's appropriately named "Ham," his woven tail in my hand, I blindfolded and pledging my allegiance to The Shrine of Friendship.
With palm pressed into a fresh-off-the-skillet fried egg, I promised to get up early Wednesday mornings and to do the wiggle-waggle.
Even better, my two friends who I'd commandeered as my breakfast co-conspirators also became members—and that meant that the three of us got to be initiated together. Runny yolk slime and all.
You know, I've joined lots of historical societies and preservation groups, but I've never really felt like a real member of anything. Until now.
I've spent a lot of time in the six years since moving to LA feeling alone and like I don't belong anywhere. To be honest, I've spent most of my life feeling that way—regardless of where I've lived.
But when it comes to the Islands of Misfit Toys that I've tried to inhabit, I don't feel like such a misfit at this one.
The Democracy of Ham and Eggs
The Island of Misfit Toy