Somehow my husband and I picked the perfect place to sit out a pandemic. We live in a suburban neighborhood in a rented house. Our small development backs up to a county park. We try and do two loops through the park and neighborhood, which is two miles, for our daily walk, weather permitting. We do not wear masks, which so many of my friends find questionable, but we do not come close to anybody in this low-density area.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.
In my work I have often prided myself at being able to look at a project and know from the onset if it would be a success or a failure. This same projecting into the future and imagining what will be has always been a part of my life. I can often look at a situation and see the key outlines or framework of what it will be in the future, even if I can not see the details.
Until my wife was diagnosed with cancer two months ago, I thought I was in the final stages of ending my married life and beginning a neww life with my partner. I went from planning my divorce to planning my wife’s cancer treatment. My wife’s battle with an aggressive cancer brought me back into her life, after three years and four months of separation. Her tumor was found the week before we were set to begin divorce mediation.
One of my favorite sci-fi books of all time is Dune by Frank Herbert. In one of the early riveting scenes, Paul Atreides, son of Duke Leto, is given the test of the gom jabbar by the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam. Without going into the details of what the test is – you will have to read the book — the purpose of the test is to know if Paul is human. If Paul is not human then he is an animal.
At the end of September, at 5:20 in the morning I got a call from my wife. “I am in the emergency room. They did a CT scan and found a mass in my abdomen.” “Do you want me to come to the hospital?” “Yes.”
Today my son flys off to Europe for a college semester abroad. My wife drove him up to Kennedy Airport in New York to drop him off.
This weekend I visited my son at college for his fraternity’s fathers weekend. As a gay man I was not quite sure what to expect. Before coming I asked my son, jokingly, was I going to have to play football? A sport which I know very little about. He assured me, no football. Continue reading
As a gay man and a father I could not have asked for you to be any more supportive than you have been since I came out to you three years ago. When we marched together this past summer, with my boyfriend, surrounded by my coworkers, in the Capital Pride Parade, it was a powerful and empowering experience.
Where does one begin to describe a life? Did it begin when I was born? Did it begin when you were born nineteen years ago? Or did it begin when I first met your mother on the tour we both took to the Soviet Union in 1990? For me the story needs to begin on the day I came out to you and then moves backwards and forward in time from there.