Yes, I have a personal connection to this suspicious group. Last summer I was invited by Mrs. T. herself to "go along" for the afternoon to a local fishing hot spot. There number of ladies wearing red hats showed up and quickly commandeered the pontoon boat moored to the dock. The hapless husbands were enticed to remain behind on the deck by coolers full of beer and other adult beverages. "What gives here", I thought, when I noticed not a single female entering the pontoon had brought a fishing pole with them. It soon became evident that they were heading off to a secretive rendezvous. Perhaps to meet others of their own persuasion?
When the group returned, some hours later, they appeared to be in a frivoulous mood. It was then that I noticed several had brought binoculars with them. Again to what suspicious purpose? During the lighthearted conversation that occured during the beer and brats picnic that followed, someone let slip that the next meeting of the group might be at a casino in Iowa, a state known for its radical corn growing and hog raising types. Obviously these women were now prepared to take great gambles in their endeavors. I tried to imagine what this was all about, but couldn't draw any definite conclusions.
It was a fellow blogger who first spotted and then photographed , for the first time, one of their semi-secret headquarters, tucked away in the hills of southeastern Minnesota. A large silo like building, gaudily painted in purple, with a red roof on the top. A secret signal, no doubt. Extreme, yes, but brazen as well. This cult must be gaining quickly in self-confidence, whatever their plans are!
Warning by Jenny Josep,
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes
.But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.