Old pictures, Old memories... reflections

An old friend skipped (flew) into town today, just for a few hours, helped me drink some wine as we contemplated my upcoming 40th. Yikes, I still can't believe it (ha ha).

Well, she had this pic of me - what a cutie I was I guess. Ah I can't believe she did this to me...

Why can't I just be

Dear God,

Why am I the man I am? Why do I always have these questions, always want answers? Why can’t I just be who I am and not care how I got here, or what others think of me or how the person “I am” affects others? Why is my path so much the road less traveled? Why can’t I just be?

The longing for acceptance, the want for people to like me, the wish for companionship, the need for love, the less eloquent desires; why do these things plague me so?

It seems so simple under the neon lights of the night. The sounds of the city streets; the laughter, the beat of the music, the squealing tires, the hushed passions.

I. You. Simple. Lonely. Vapid. Primal. Welcomed desire. Un-welcomed expectations. Honor. Pride. Conformity. Passion.

Lost. Disconnected. Alone.

Why can’t I just be?

Me.

Longing for Seattle...

Here I meditate... well, actually sitting on a stone wall outside of the aquatic center while my daughter has splash-class (diving practice). It's been an unusually strange summer in Atlanta, hot as all-get-out (southern-ism) one week, cool and rainy the next. Right now as I sit journaling, it's a cool 75 degrees, light breeze, makes me think of fall - which won't visit the South for another 8 weeks or longer...

We are in one of those cooler-than-normal rainy weeks - very fall like - off in the distance you can hear the football practices for the rec leagues. The Men's (high school) cross country team just ran by, and the first signs of fall, the sugar maples, are just starting to show their color. Such a tease... as I know we will have more 90+ degree weather and more smog and more and more and more...

What it really has me thinking about is Seattle. Or maybe Gig Harbor down on the Peninsula. The Pac NW is where my heart is. Every time I'm out there, it just seems right. Like I belong. Arcada, Yakima, Portland, Hood River, Seattle... Anchorage.

And here I am in Atlanta... Not that the big ATL is all bad - Spring rocks - by late February it's in the low 60s at times, lots of us out and about trying to work off those winter pounds... And trees, Atlanta is a tree city, even in Midtown - but especially once outside of the business areas.

My parents live in AK - I think it's time for a road-trip (make that a plane ride...) Go sit by the ocean and ponder how small we all really are.

Inalienable rights, dammit !

It's been a challenge friends. Here I am, a white upper class, outwardly heterosexual male. In America, I have it all. Full citizenship rights. I can live in any town, any neighborhood, belong to any country club, any fraternity, drive any car, attend and be a member of any church, adopt, marry, vote. Yet by doing just one thing, loving another man, I become less-than. I loose most of those civil liberties.

I've tried to make my coming out a thoughtful process. I've not jumped into bed with just anyone. My sexuality is without question though - and is a painful reminder I have lived with for over 22 years. So I've talked a lot with different guys. Coming out to some, even in my current world. Have made some great gay and lesbian friends. But it saddens me when I see the resignation in so many eyes, the knowledge that they each either accept their second city status or pretend they do not care.

Marriage is a prime example. Marriage is a legal construct. Not a theological one (flame away). Certainly, marriage in the church is and should be governed by the society within the church. But the legal contract of marriage should be available to me, as an American. And it is, that is until I wish to make this contract with another man, somehow I have lost that civil right. Now, how does that work?

I've discussed this topic at length with many people, gay, lesbian, and straight. And certainly you can imagine the hetero view - mostly opposed. Usually on religious grounds - even though it's not a religious issue (more flames please). And then there is the blue-collar hetero view - the one that opponents of same sex marriage cultivate best - that gay people, by virtue of the sexual acts they perform, are less than human. The same tactics used by segregationists of the 50's and 60's - how effective, and how sad. But I've found a small percentage (not a majority mind you) of gays and lesbians who actually oppose same-sex marriage. Now how does THAT work? Most of these believe instead that we should have the right to "civil unions" but not marriage rights. But that smacks too highly of separate but equal. Maybe we should have separate drinking fountains too?

So, coming from the other side, the dark side, I can't help but feel militant about this. How can anyone dare to take away a civil right I have had my entire life; take that right away just because I have fallen in love with a beautiful mind, an amazing intellect, an enthralling personality, a sharp whit, that just happens to housed in the body of a man.

A great yet flawed man, Thomas Jefferson, once penned for us all that we as a people "hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with inherent and inalienable rights; that among these, are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness".

If but those words could have been penned into the Constitution instead of just the Declaration of Independence we would not have this issue today.

There is more - pin-balling in the hallways of my mind. If you've gotten this far, thank you.

I'm a Nerd

Sitting in LAX late tonight, waiting on a delayed red-eye to Atlanta, it "re-dawns" on me that I'm a Nerd (capital N). I said "re-dawns" because this is certainly not the first time this has entered my psyche.

Here I sit, reading, writing, commenting on various friend's blogs, I realize that being a Nerd, or more accurately having a preclusion to intellectual pursuits, is exactly where I like to be.

If you look around where I live, my neighborhood, it's an entire population of Nerds - Doctor's, Lawyers, Professors, Entrepreneurs, and even an Author. Driving their Nerd-mobiles (BMWs, Mercedes, Jags, Volvos).

I went to my high school reunion recently - 20 years (yikes) and the pride I have of my "Nerdness" took on new confidence. And we all know how it goes. The jocks, cheerleaders, popular kids are in general, still the same. And they marvel at where others of us have gone in life. And that's ok, we need employees :)
________________________

Yes, I am a Nerd. But worse yet, or better yet, I’m a Gay Nerd.

So what does that really mean? Well for one thing, I don’t fit into anyone’s concept of a Gay Man. Not a label whore – I wear jeans and tee shirts. I think more about important issues, politics, and the latest good book.

So as a Nerd, a Gay Nerd just coming out into the world I find myself a drift in a superficial culture that may not be prepared for me, or may misunderstand me.

I’ve opined on what will become of me once I shed the self imposed repression of all of these years (see Midtown-Chris). But in becoming Midtown-Chris, if that’s to be my fate, will I then instead just be repressing my Nerdness? Certainly there is room for both –

Midtown Chris

Do I have a sign on my forehead?

I went to lunch with a friend this week. Venturing into the unknown - we headed deep into the hood - Midtown that is - center of Gay Atlanta.

Nothing like the feeling of having a bumper sticker pasted to your forehead – “Fresh Meat”.

Being the out and coming (coming out) straight guy getting in touch with the truth proved to be a real good time. Even though it was a slow Wednesday on the patio at Joe’s, there was still a nice crowd. And it was nice getting some attention - and looks. But that brings me to the real subject.

What happens to guys when they come out? Approaching this intellectually I want to think that I will come out, find a great guy, and have a long term, mutually rewarding relationship based on love and a deep soulful connection. But is that how it works? I want it too, without question. It’s the plan. But am I more likely, freed from my sexual repression, to dive into the pool – or become “Midtown Chris” (cape and all) as a friend of mine jokes?

Now, I’m no slouch – even at 39. I’m in the best shape of my life; masculine, lean, athletic, smart, successful, well read and a world traveler. (and I have a really nice scooter chair and AARP has a great health plan :) )

I have absolutely no clue how this works but what if Midtown Chris is given just a little bit of attention by the boys at Outwrite, or Einstein’s, or at some techno club I now so snobbishly claim to not be “my scene” – does he become the shirtless dancer-boy up on Ecstasy until 4 in the morning sleeping with whatever twink comes along?

So who knows – if any of you do, shout it out. But it’s not the plan – I hope to have more character than that. Let me know what you think, what you’ve experienced.

Senior Year

It was a very good year 1982/83. Suntans, cars, drinking, drugs, girls, guys… Life was good beyond all expectation. I grew up in a very affluent South Florida community. My parents and most of my friend’s parents were wealthy, by any measure - An upper class existence where everyone at school had a car, many new BMWs and Mercedes, Porches and Corvettes. Boats, planes, weekend trips to Bimini – life was good.

I was the quintessential popular kid. Tall, firm, athletic, rich, friends with the jocks, the preps, the geeks, the freaks, the misfits – and a straight A student.

A good year, the year my girlfriend of 4 months told her family and I that she was 5 months pregnant. The year I choose, without hesitation to claim the child as my own. Step up in public and make that claim, even though this baby was in no way my child. Not many guys would have done it; most would have bolted – even now. But for me it was the right thing to do.

In the superficial world we lived in back then, a teenage mother was not something that would have been accepted; much less one without the responsible father. It’s not as if we lived in the inner city after all – these things did not happen in “Whiteville”. Girls were expected to “take care” of it. Abort.

Not that I’m a Bible banging pro-lifer – I’m not. I’m pro-choice. Life is my choice. And I have no right to pass judgment or my beliefs on anyone else. But it was a hard choice, for a 16 and 17 year old to make and go forward into life.

We both took a lot of crap about this – from teachers, other students, people, in the community. But fuck them.

Why I did it, I don’t know. Does it define me? Without question. And it has driven me to seek answers – why I am the Man I am. Why did I make this very right decision – at a time in life that I was unsure of my self in more ways than one - this was the same time of my first relationship with a boy...

That most beautiful child that we introduced to the many things on this planet, to this life is now introducing a child of her own to the wind, the rain, the laughter and sorrow that is our existence. Had I allowed that child to be aborted I know that I would not be as complete as I am.