Different

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 utterly disinterested in sports and could not get my head around the rules or players’ role in different games. Continue reading

Nantucket Reds

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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.  Continue reading

Football and Me

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Growing up, one of the reoccurring scenes that colored my sense of self was watching football at my uncle and aunt’s home. My uncle was my father’s only brother. Both men were accomplished, competitive, smart, and reared in the manliness of the 1950s. Continue reading