It is hard to know where to begin when writing a personal history. Do I start as a small child already feeling different than my peers, or do I begin later when I first began to understand my attraction to men? Let me tell this story through a series of vignettes over time. Continue reading
Now, “different” is nice, but it sure isn’t pretty
“Pretty” is what it’s about
I never met anyone who was “different”
Who couldn’t figure that out– At The Ballet from A Chorus Line
I knew I was different from a very young age, even though my mother, grandmother, and aunt tried to turn it into being special. As the character Bebe sings in A Chorus Line, I figured out that I was not like the other boys and it was not a good thing. I did not engage in baseball on the playground, I was completely disinterested in sports and could not get my head around the rules or players’ role in different games. Continue reading
Since before my wife’s death this past April, I began to live in the house that I had moved out of four years earlier, when I began my life as an out gay man. I had never planned to live in our house again. But that all changed as my wife’s health declined from terminal cancer.
My parents are in their late 80’s and last year my brother and I took over the management and care of two adjacent summer houses in New England. We are renting out the larger house for the first time ever this summer and worked for the last year to get the house de-junked, fixed up, spruced up and ready to rent. After making an enormous investment of time and energy to get the house ready, I wanted to enjoy of the fruits of my labor. I carved out a week in August with my partner, and invited two of our friends to join us for a vacation. My parents are staying in the next house. My sister arrived two days after us to spend a week with my parents.
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Walking around Nantucket yesterday brought up emotions in me that date back to my childhood. My reaction to seeing a certain type of well to do men and women, dressed in elite preppy styles, full of self confidence and sureness, implying a closed exclusive world, is not good. It makes me cringe inside and feel uncomfortable. It also encourages my contempt.
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I came down to Philadelphia to watch my three and a half year old niece for three days while my brother and sister-in-law went to Las Vegas for the birthday of one of his oldest friends. Yesterday, day one, was easy. My niece was in pre-school most of the morning so I got to go to the gym and run some errands. Today, day two, was another story.
My father had major heart surgery yesterday to reconstruct his mitral valve. It was done robotically with five small incisions. For an 87-year-old man, who is less than 36 hours out of surgery, he is doing amazingly well. Continue reading
