14 to 16

Freshmen year was also the year I met Christina. She was also a senior but did not go to public school. We met at a party and I drove her home… I didn’t even have a license… But Naples was small enough I could probably have gotten away with it. She recently visited me – first time we had seen each other in quite a while.

High school in Naples was very interesting. Like being stuck in an episode of OC or 90210. Most of the kids had money and cars and all of the trappings of privilege... My Dad pretty much made my brother and I go it on our own. We drove the old family cars or bought our own. Paid our own gas and insurance. All of that. And in hindsight I know now that he did us a favor. He was more than able to have provided us the privileged life but instead sheltered us from that burden – such that it is – and we both grew up to respect money and other people.

I’ve never had real car luck. My first car was my grandmother’s old car - a 1965 Oldsmobile Jetstar 88 . That baby got around 6 miles to the gallon so I moved on as soon as I had the money saved up to a buy my next car – a 1976 Honda Civic. This car was love. Great gas mileage and peppy. It cost me $1500 which was a ton of money for me back then. But this car took me to college so – it wasn’t all bad. In between I had a play car – ended up buying a Triumph TR6 in really poor shape for $300. But it was fun to work on and a real blast to drive.

Around this time my Dad decided he just couldn't stay retired and ended up buying more real estate about this time. Which meant I was cheap labor - which was fine by me as I needed the money. He bought houses and other properties that needed work - and usually kept a hold of them once we fixed them up. If you were to have seen my Dad back in those days you would have assumed he didn't have a dime in his pockets. Wearing old painters clothes most of the time - as he worked hard on these houses too.

Dad was an incredible role model and while I can't say we were close, I can say we had and still have a great relationship.

Being 16 was what it was all about in high school as many may remember. In Naples it meant hanging out with friends from the other two high schools in town – partying late at night on the beach – doing things you wouldn’t want your own kids to do…. Grrr…

Around home where we lived there was always something to get into. We lived on a lake - a small lake of maybe 20 acres or so - but it was deep as it was one of the holes they dug back in the 50's to help build up the road bed for hwy US 41 - AKA the Tamiami Trail (Tampa to Miami Trail). Funny name that was bestowed on it appropriately back in the early 1900's as it was a wilderness trail down the coast and through the Everglades between Tampa and Miami. But I digress... The lake - yes, good fun. It was deep and cold. My neighborhood was perhaps 5 feet above sea level so, did 10 feet down and you hit water. And this lake is 35 or 40 feet deep. I can remember swimming down to the deep end with a friend and pulling ourselves to the bottom by the long stalks of the lily pads that covered the lake. By the time we got back up all of the pigment from our skin was gone - we had lost our tans temporarily to the cold water. What an experience. And we were fearless. There were plenty of alligators in that lake but being young and dumb I guess we figured they had better people to eat than we skinny boys...

And snakes... I can't count the number of snakes we ran into, or stepped on. Just a common thing for a couple of boys living down there. Two yards down from my house there was an empty lot we would play in and once day we ran across a diamond back rattler sunning itself - must have been at least 8 feet long. As big around as a football in the middle. I still remember standing back 20 feet or so and throwing pine cones at it - until we hit it.. I'll never forget the sound as that giant curled up and rattled... They say a snake can strike twice it's length away... we didn't stick around to find out. Needless to say, we gave that lot a WIDE birth for a few years...

To be continued… (The Everglades, cow tipping, wild boar, and snip hunting :)

Where's my soul - Today was a bad day in 1985

I wanted to tell my journal and everyone who may care about something that may well have played a bit into my psyche, something that happened a long time ago to a very special friend.

As most everyone knows, I'm just coming out. And as a few of my friends know, I'm essentially a virgin in terms of being with a guy. I have known of my attraction for guys since I was 11, but only confirmed it when I was 17; and even then not completely. My 17th year was amazing but I've not told the whole story.

The other guy was a friend of mine, a boy like myself who was searching. I've told many that after that one experience we both kind of just drifted away. And there is a small truth to that. I went off to college, he stayed in Naples... and became a call-boy. A gay call-boy.

No judgment on his choices. He was a very attractive young man and a free spirit; a swimmer and surfer like myself. Urged me to do what he was doing. But what makes this story so poignant is that as lucrative and that choice was for him, and exciting as it may have been, he died of an overdose in a beach-side suite. Friday September 6th, 1985

Cycle of the moon brings blood to the woman
In the blood of the woman brings birth of a child
Child grow up
Keep forgetting something
Birth of a child comes someplace while you
Even grey days beat the shade to wean
Unbodied unsouled unheard unseen
Let the gift be grown in the time to call our own
Let the truth be sewn before the windows closing
Truth is natural like a wind that blows
Follow the direction no matter where it goes
So it shall be the earth and the sea
Let the truth blow like a hurricane through me

If I've been cold, if I've spoken in anger, to have been bold, forgive me

Annie got married it didn't come with out tears
like the day you died I have laughter for these years

For Michael - I wonder who and where we would be.

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 –