Showing posts with label Lewis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lewis. Show all posts

Friday, December 23, 2016

Lonely Places, by Lewis


I don't know where to begin writing about the subject of “lonely places" without first distinguishing them from "places of solitude".  There's a distinct difference.  People often deliberately seek out places of solitude for purposes of restoration, deliberation, and soul-searching.  They are places of respite and retrospection.  They are for clearing the mind of clutter, connecting with feelings--sometimes painful--that cry out for exploration.  They are like a shower for the soul.

In contrast, "lonely places" are more like a pity-party for the poor-in-spirit.  In the real world, there are places where solitude-seekers can be alone.  They offer peace and quiet and are a place to get one's head together and sort things out.  They are far from being "lonely places" unless made to be so by the individual occupying them.  In this entire vast and endlessly varied world, there is not a single space that is inherently "lonely", for "loneliness" is not a physical condition but a state of mind.  If I so desired, I could be lonely on a crowded city bus or at a fair or concert. 

Sometimes, feeling lonely can feel safer than reaching out to someone.  Loneliness is a trust issue.  If I trust that others can respond to pain with love, there is no need to be lonely.  I suspect that people sometimes get stuck in loneliness because they are afraid of risking rejection should they attempt to make some kind of human connection.  If one is so needy that they scare people away for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing, they might well feel that they have been rejected.  The solution to this dilemma is to break out of the loneliness sooner rather than later.  One way to do that is not to pout but to pucker, not to slump or slink but to sidle up to someone.

When Laurin died in late 2012, I lost my constant companion and lover.  The pain was almost unbearable.  I could have withdrawn into self-pity and made myself lonely.  I am not an extrovert; I'm rather shy, actually.  I do not particularly like parties or being in large crowds.  But I do crave human connection.  I like doing things for other people.  It's difficult for me to allow others to do for me.  But that's exactly what I did.  I attended a grief support group here at The Center and a wellness support group at my church.  I made a concerted effort to make new friends and freshen older friendships.  I had plenty of time to be alone, especially at night.  But I found that simply by being open to the love and caring of others I had no time or predilection for loneliness.

Social media of the electronic variety has made connecting with others easier than ever.  I would attribute the nearly pervasive persistence with which both young and old today text, tweet, and instant message to a desperate need to circumvent loneliness.  I hope its working.  But when it comes to feeling truly part of the human community, there's nothing like a warm hug--perhaps even topped with a big, wet kiss.

© 11 Aug 2014 


About the Author 

I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn't getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth.

Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband's home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Long Ago, Far Away, by Lewis


[The following is a confidential memorandum, dated May 25, 1998, which I delivered to The Rev. Jamie Rasmussen, then-pastor at Grace Community Church in Detroit, Michigan, after listening to a tape of a sermon he delivered titled, "What Would Jesus Say to Ellen DeGeneres".  This was shortly after Ellen came out on her TV show.] 

Although we did not exchange names, we met this past Friday when I came into Grace Community Church to buy a tape of your sermon titled "What Would Jesus Say to Ellen DeGeneres?".  You were surprisingly young and full of sunny energy as we passed in the office doorway.  You asked me what tape I wanted.  I told you and you said that you had given that sermon and told me to let you know what I thought of it.  I thanked you and went on my way, tape in hand.

I have listened to the tape three times now and would be happy to share my thoughts with you.  Let me begin by saying that I am a gay man of 52 who has been in a monogamous marriage for 25 years.  I have two adult children and a very comfortable life, at least on the surface.  The fact is that my wife and I have decided to begin a gradual separation process because I have come, finally and almost inevitably, to the conclusion that I can no longer feel happy and fulfilled living without the love of another man.  For most of my adult life, I bought the popular myth--as I believe you have--that homosexuality was a "lifestyle" which involved choosing whether I would engage in sex with a woman (my wife) in the context of a loving, caring relationship, or with a series of men, always without real human connection and love.  Placed in this context, the choice seemed rather simple.  After all, weren't these urges I felt merely lust, a desire for a quick fix of heated passion followed by days and weeks--even months--of desolation, guilt, and shame?

Though you may not believe it, let me tell you that no heterosexual can possibly understand the torment that came from trying to live my life ever faithful to what society expected of me and in complete sublimation of my truest inner nature.  I felt like the Ugly Duckling who never, ever sees a swan but always thinks of himself as different, degenerate, inherently unlovable.  Over the course of the past half-dozen years, I have been gradually emerging from my cocoon of self-hatred into the light.  I have discussed my orientation with counselors, friends, clergy, family, and co-workers.  I have become active in the politics of gender identity and sexual orientation.  I learned that my own internalized homophobia can be overcome and that I, too, sometimes misjudge people by stereotyping them as "homophobic".  My wife and kids know that I am gay and love me just the same.  (I told my wife even before we were married that I was attracted to men.)

You need to hear that I WAS NEVER CONFUSED ABOUT MY SEXUAL ORIENTATION--at least since the age of 13--but only terrified of being discovered.  In your sermon, you keep referring to gays and lesbians as "confused".  They aren't the ones who are confused.  It's you and people like you who are confused--confused about what it means to be a homosexual.  You seem to feel, if I interpret your words correctly, that gays and lesbians are "OK"--that is, worthy of "unconditional love"--as long as they don't act on their feelings of attraction.  Can you imagine someone saying to a heterosexual, "I love you as a person but I hate it when you act on your feelings of attraction to a person of the opposite sex"?  What you are asking of gay men and lesbians is to do one of two things:  1) get married to a person who may or may not know what they are getting into and live a false existence for as long as the marriage lasts; or 2) remain celibate (and, therefore, essentially loveless) for life.  What a choice!  Both essentially deprive a person of the greatest joys of human existence while condemning them to countless hours of pain and self-recrimination!

Your kind of "unconditional love"--loving the "sinner" but hating the "sin"--is pretty cheap!  We know that Jesus loved the thieves who died with him on the cross, as well as the men who caused his death.  He forgave them and welcomed them into the Kingdom of Heaven.  Are we to believe that a lesbian or gay man who commits an act of love with another human being, regardless of gender, is less worthy of acceptance than these are?  The Jesus I know is SILENT about homosexuality.  How do you presume to speak for Jesus when he himself was silent?  He did say that the greatest commandments are these:  to love God with all my heart, mind, and soul and to love my neighbor as myself.  Is it possible that he thought of all people--straight or gay--as "neighbors"?

On the subject of homosexuality as "sin", I rely on John Boswell's Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality (still in print and available at the Grosse Pointe Public Library and at Barnes & Noble).  On pages 100 thru 114, he addresses all three scriptures you cite in your talk, going back to the original language for contextual meaning.  He concludes, with regard to the citation from Leviticus, that the Hebrew word "toevah", there translated as "abomination", as in "Thou shall not lie with mankind, as with womankind:  it is an abomination", does not usually signify something intrinsically evil but something ritually unclean for Jews, like eating pork or engaging in intercourse during menstruation.  Boswell points out that the word "toevah" is used throughout the Old Testament to designate those Jewish sins that involve ethnic contamination, as in the stock phrase "toevah ha-goyim", meaning "the uncleanness of the Gentiles".  Such an interpretation would have no significance for Christians.

With regard to the Romans I citation, Boswell argues that the persons Paul condemns are manifestly not homosexual.  He is speaking of homosexual acts committed by apparently heterosexual persons.  "The whole point of Romans I, in fact, is to stigmatize persons who have rejected their calling, gotten off the true path they were once on.  What caused the Romans to sin was not that they lacked what Paul considered proper inclinations but that they had them:  they held the truth, but 'in unrighteousness' (v. 18) because 'they did not see fit to retain Him in their knowledge' (v. 28).  [I]t is quite apparent that...Paul did not discuss gay persons but only homosexual acts committed by heterosexual persons [emphasis in the original].

Finally, as to the citation from 1st Corinthians 6:9, Boswell's argument is purely semantic.  Of the two Greek words used in the original and now taken to indicate that "homosexuals" will be excluded from the Kingdom of Heaven, one applied, up until the 20th Century, to masturbation--a "sin" no longer widely considered worthy of condemnation to Hell--and the other, best evidence suggests, meant to Paul's generation a "male prostitute".  Thus, we see that upon close examination of the cited passages, nowhere does the Bible actually condemn homosexual acts between committed, loving, lesbians or gay men--at least, if they are Gentiles.  I encourage you, Jamie, to study the Roswell text yourself in its entirety.

You almost had me fooled, Jamie.  I was ready to concede that you really cared about gays and lesbians.  Your voice has such a compassionate ring to it.  But near the end, you betray your real feelings when you announce your opposition to the efforts of gays and lesbians to secure the same rights to be free from discrimination that you and other heterosexuals take for granted.  You even raise the tired, old red flag of protecting the children!  What of those gay or lesbian children who may have been in your audience?  Evidence shows that many gay boys realize their orientation by the age of 11.  How would they feel about themselves after hearing your speech?  What kind of a future can they look forward to--either devoid of intimacy or condemned by God?  Why wouldn't suicide seem attractive?  You're right to be concerned for the children but the threat comes from the vibes of your own sound system, not from some faceless gay pedophile.

[In researching what Rev. Rasmussen has been up to in the interim, it appears that my excoriating memo did nothing to damage his career in the ministry.  The very next year, he left Detroit to lead an old, historic church in London, Ontario, in transitioning to a "small-group-based, outreach-focused" one, whose membership grew by 29 per cent in the two years he was there.  In 2001, he left London for Chagrin Falls, Ohio, where he pastured at the Fellowship Bible Church for six years, growing its membership from 650 to 1400.  "Chagrin" is an apt word for my reaction upon learning that since 2007, "Jamie", as he prefers to be called, has been the Senior Pastor of Scottsdale Bible Church with its 6000 adult members and 10- to 12,000 subscribers to the church's newsletter.  He has a staff of two dozen pastors and ministers and 100 employees.  Incidentally, he never responded to my memo.]

© 16 Sep 2013 

About the Author 

I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn't getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth.

Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband's home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.

Friday, November 25, 2016

Stories of GLBT Organizations, by Lewis


My thirty-year career at Ford Motor Company reached its culmination at the end of the last century, coincident with the last of my 26 years of being in a straight marriage and the birth of the GLBT organization that has played the largest part in my personal journey toward wholeness. That organization is Ford GLOBE.

GLOBE is an acronym for Gay, Lesbian, Or Bisexual Employees. It was hatched in the minds of two Ford employees, a woman and a man, in Dearborn, MI, in July of 1994. By September, they had composed a letter to the Vice President of Employee Relations--with a copy to Ford CEO, Alex Trotman--expressing a desire to begin a dialogue with top management on workplace issues of concern to Ford's gay, lesbian and bisexual employees. They were invited to meet with the VP of Employee Relations in November.

In 1995, the group, now flying in full view of corporate radar and growing, elected a five-member board, adopted its formal name of Ford GLOBE; designed their logo; adopted mission, vision, and objective statements; and adopted bylaws. The fresh-faced Board was invited to meet with the staff of the newly-created corporate Diversity Office. Soon after, "sexual orientation" was incorporated into Ford's Global Diversity Initiative. Members of Ford GLOBE participated in the filming of two company videos on workplace diversity. Also that year, Ford was a sponsor of the world-premier on NBC of Serving in Silence, starring Glenn Close as Army Reserve Colonel Margarethe Cammermeyer. By September of 1996, Ford GLOBE chapters were forming in Great Britain and Germany.

In March of 1996, Ford GLOBE submitted to upper management the coming-out stories of 23 members in hope of putting a human face on what had been an invisible minority. Along with the stories came a formal request for Ford's non-discrimination policy to be rewritten to include sexual orientation. At the time, only Ford of Britain had such a policy.

Ford GLOBE was beginning to network with similar interest groups at General Motors and Chrysler, including sharing a table at the 1996 Pridefest and walking together in the Michigan Pride Parade in Lansing. After two years of discussion between Ford GLOBE and top management, on November 14, 1996, Ford CEO, Alex Trotman, issued Revised Corporate Policy Letter # 2, adding "sexual orientation" to the company's official non-discrimination policy. To this day, some of our largest and most profitable corporations, including Exxon Mobile, have refused to do the same.

My involvement with Ford GLOBE began sometime in 1997. For that reason and the fact that I have scrapped many of my records of this period, I have relied heavily on Ford GLOBE's website for the dates and particulars of these events.

In February of 1998, I attended a "Gay Issues in the Workplace" Workshop, led by Brian McNaught, at Ford World Headquarters, jointed sponsored by GLOBE and the Ford Diversity Office. I remember a Ford Vice President taking the podium at that event. He was a white man of considerable social cachet and I assumed that the privilege that normally goes with that status would have shielded him from any brushes with discrimination. In fact, he told a story of riding a public transit bus with his mother at the height of World War II. His family was German. His mother had warned him sternly not to speak German while riding the bus. Thus, he, too, had known the fear of being outed because of who he was. The experience had made him into an unlikely ally of GLOBE members over 50 years later.

In 1999, Ford GLOBE amended its by-laws to make it their mission to include transgendered employees in Ford's non-discrimination policy and gender identity in Ford's diversity training. Ford Motor Company was the first and only U.S. automotive company listed on the 1999 Gay and Lesbian Values Index of top 100 companies working on gay issues, an achievement noted by Ford CEO Jac Nasser. It was about this time that retired Ford Vice Chairman and Chief Financial Officer Alan Gilmore came out as gay. The Advocate named Ford Motor Company to its list of 25 companies that provide good environments for gay employees in its Oct. 26 edition.

Having earlier written the contract bargaining teams for Ford Motor Company, United Auto Workers, and Canadian Auto Workers requesting specific changes in the upcoming union contracts, Ford GLOBE was pleased to see that the resulting Ford/CAW union contract included provision for same-sex domestic partners to be treated as common law spouses in Canada, for sexual orientation to be added to the nondiscrimination statement of the Ford/UAW contract, and that Ford and the UAW agreed to investigate implementation of same-sex domestic partner benefits during the current four-year union contract.

The year 2000 was not only the year that I became Board Chair of Ford GLOBE but also the year that marked a momentous event in automotive history as Ford, General Motors, and the Chrysler Division of DaimlerChrysler issued a joint press release with the United Auto Workers announcing same-sex health care benefits for the Big Three auto companies' salaried and hourly employees in the U.S. As the first-ever industry-wide joint announcement of domestic partner benefits and largest ever workforce of 465,000 U.S. employees eligible in one stroke, the historic announcement made headlines across the nation. It was truly a proud moment for all of us in the Ford GLOBE organization.

On January 1 of 2001, my last year with the company, Ford expanded its benefits program for the spouses of gay employees to include financial planning, legal services, the personal protection plan, vehicle programs, and the vision plan.

Since my departure from the company, Ford and GLOBE have continued to advance the cause of GLBT equality and fairness both within the corporation and without. I am fortunate to have been supported in my own coming out process by my associates within the company, both gay and straight, and to Ford GLOBE in particular for the bonds of friendship honed in the common struggle toward a better and freer world.

[Editor's note: Previously published in 2015 in this blog.]


© 2015 


About the Author


I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn't getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth. Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband's home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.

Friday, October 7, 2016

Death, by Lewis


It is hard to write on a subject with which one does not have any "lived experience".  Like most, although having witnessed many thousands of deaths in the popular media and on television news, I have even less of an idea as to what death will be like than I have on being the President of the United States.

I suggested this topic because it has been on my mind a lot lately, due in no small measure to the recent death of my husband, Laurin.  Also, over the past year or so, I have experienced a series of maladies and mishaps that I can only attribute to a body that is showing signs of breaking down and rusting away, much like cars used to do.  (Incidentally, have you noticed how few rusted out clunkers you see on the streets these days?) 

Every life story has a finite beginning and a finite end.  It is the incredible mish-mash in-between that makes our life stories so unique.  I hear every day about lives cut short by one tragedy or another and I always think how lucky I am to have lived to the relatively ripe age of 68.  Each day, I check the obituary pages of the Denver Post to see how many have died at a lesser age.  It's a small percentage--perhaps 10-15.  The majority of those are men. 

Though four years younger than Mom, Dad died 3-1/2 years before her.  I think he had the advantage, though, in terms of how he died.  He had undergone an upper GI a day or two before.  The x-ray showed a tumor on his stomach.  He likely had just received that news when he went to lunch with some friends and came home.  He was sitting on the toilet, perhaps trying to rid himself of the viscous prep for the test, when he had a massive stroke and died on the spot.  Mom heard only one long groan and it was over.

It was then that my family first realized the seriousness of Mom's dementia.  Within six months, she had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease and institutionalized.  For the next three years, her condition continued to decline, while she wondered the halls of the place where she resided, pushing her walker, not recognizing family or friends, and cursing at those within earshot.  She did not know that she had survived the second and last of her children by her first husband.  I did not have the heart to tell her.

Some people die in their sleep.  Others starve to death or after spending months in a coma or after days of clinging to life after being horribly injured.  Family members have seen their loved one die despite round-after-round of chemotherapy or surgeries at an enormous cost in terms of not only treasure but also emotional capital.

We do not choose when we are born.  Heck, we're not even old enough to choose when we go to the bathroom or what we eat for dinner.  But death is a different matter for most of us.  By then, we're adults and making all kinds of decisions, some of major consequence and some of very little.  We can pick our doctors, our hospital, our spouse, the person who holds medical power of attorney, whether we will take our meds, and, in some cases, whether we want life-prolonging medical procedures or treatment.  We can even refuse to take food or liquid by mouth until we die, which can take up to ten days or so and causes pain as our organs shut down (for which we would be given pain killers).  What we can't do legally in this country is to ask for a dose of something that will end it all painlessly and quickly.

The term "assisted suicide" frightens people.  They seem more comfortable with "dying with dignity" or "aid-in-dying".  Today, loved ones who give aid-in-dying can be charged with murder.  Where are all the Right Wing voices who scream about government overreach when it comes to aid-in-dying?  It seems they were all in favor of keeping Terri Schiavo alive as long as humanly possible, even through recourse to the Florida state courts.  Talk about government abuse of power--and in service of a specific religious faction at that!

Ask a dozen people--around this table, for example--what happens to us after we die and you will likely get at least a handful of different opinions.  Is there anything that happens to us that is more personal than the circumstances of our death, should we be fortunate enough to have a choice?  If I am unable to walk or stand, if I am unable to feed or go to the bathroom by myself, if I do not recognize that the person standing beside me is my own next-of-kin, if I am not able to talk and the only thing coming out of my mouth is drool, I do not want to go on living. 

I do not believe in life-after-death.  I believe that the release of my last breath will feel very much like that moment before I received that swat on my bottom that brought that first gasp for life-giving air.  It is that belief that makes me want to make the most of every day that I have left--to live, to love, to celebrate, to share, to grow, to smell the roses, to simply be.  Then, when that final breath comes, it will be every bit as sweet as my first.

© 13 Oct 2014 

About the Author 

I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn't getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth.

Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband's home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.

Friday, September 23, 2016

Pets, by Lewis


After initially thinking I would describe a litany of the pets I have owned over my lifetime--from a dog to a hog-nosed snake to a squirrel to a parakeet--I soon became aware that I had tapped into a very deep well of sadness. More than a moment of grief, it felt as if I had broken the seal on a bottle of "despair Drambuie" that had been corked for sixty years.

Of all my pets, my most dear was the only dog I have ever owned, a mixed fox terrier puppy named Skippy. He was a gift from my maternal grandfather--the only grandparent I have ever known--on a day in May of 1955 that was totally unremarkable. There was no "occasion". I simply arrived home from another day in the 3rd grade at Morgan Elementary to find a puppy running around the kitchen. I was told by my mother that the puppy was a gift from Granddad Homer, who was living with us but at the time nowhere to be seen.

This was not unusual for my grandfather. Although extremely generous with his money, he was a five-star miser when it came to communication. I do not remember a time when we shared a conversation, laugh, or tender touch. When he gave gifts, he always did it through a surrogate-- our first TV magically appeared in our living room, my first bike was delivered by a Sears van as I sat on the front lawn, my first gun--a .410 gauge shotgun--was handed down from him through the hands of my father. When he died, approximately six months after bringing Skippy into my life, I was not allowed to attend his funeral. Since when does a 9-year-old need closure?

At first, I resented the duties that came with owning a dog. When still a puppy, I attached a leash to his halter and swung him around in the back yard as if he were on a merry-go-round. But soon, Skippy became my trusted and loyal buddy.

On Columbus Day, 1961, I was sitting at my desk doing homework after school in my bedroom. I was 15 and a high school sophomore. Mom was the TV Editor for the Hutchinson [KS] News and hadn't yet come home. I heard Dad come in the front door and could tell something was wrong. Dad had found Skippy lying in the street dead, apparently hit by a car. His body was unmarked except for a tiny tear in his skin.

I could tell Dad was sorry for my pain. I asked him what we should do. He said we should find a spot to bury Skippy in the back yard.

Dad grabbed a shovel and I carried my dog as gently as my shaking arms would allow. We looked around for an appropriate place of internment. Somewhat baffled, Dad--who could have been the prototype for Jimmy Olsen of Superman fame--said, "Where can we bury that damn dog, anyway?" I had already steeled myself against showing one whit of emotion and his comment only steadied my resolve. We did agree on a final resting place and I placed Skippy into it, along with a piece of my heart.

I never owned another dog as long as I have lived. The pets I have had have not been of the type that one would describe as "cuddly". They were either reptiles or amphibians, except for one brief turn with a wounded baby squirrel.

Lately, as I have been giving more thought to the notion of once again being "in relationship", I ask myself, "What kind of person would I be happiest with?" It seems to me that the process is a lot more like selecting a breed of dog to purchase as a pet that some people might think. Am I looking for a guard dog, a lap dog, or a dog to play "fetch" with? Why, I ask myself, are most of my friends women? Why do the men I know mostly seem to be narcissists who talk only about themselves and NEVER ask a question about my life?

At the suggestion of a newly-acquired male friend, I took the online Enneagram Personality Test. I found out that I am a Type 2--The Helper. I am told "people of this type essentially feel that they are worthy insofar as they are helpful to others. Love is their highest ideal. Selflessness is their duty. Giving to others is their reason for being. Involved, socially aware, usually extroverted, Twos are the type of people who...go the extra mile to help out a co-worker, spouse or friend in need."

Not too bad an assessment, I would say. The description of a Type 2 goes on to say, "Two’s often develop a sense of entitlement when it comes to the people closest to them. Because they have extended themselves for others, they begin to feel that gratitude is owed to them. They can become intrusive and demanding if their often unacknowledged emotional needs go unmet."

I recoiled from this accusation upon first reading. The idea that I could become "intrusive and demanding" seemed like a ridiculous fantasy. But upon further contemplation, I had to admit that I do have "unmet emotional needs which go largely unacknowledged". The suddenness of this realization flooded over me like a loss every bit as painful as the death of a beloved pet.

Still, some men I know do engender a powerful resentment in me. These are the ones I labeled a bit ago as "narcissistic". The conversation is all about them with never a thought about me. This trait among the men I know is so pervasive as to explain why it is that I much prefer the company of women. It's not that I feel that "gratitude is owed to me" as much as I feel that I am an interesting person who deserves equal time. I don't think that is too much to ask of a friendship. If all I cared about was caring for and pampering the other, I would go out and buy a cat. Alternatively, I'll just have to learn how to extend myself less or be more open about verbalizing my own need for caring. Anybody know any Type 2’s out there?

© 18 August 2014



About the Author


I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn't getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth. Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband's home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.

Friday, September 9, 2016

Magic, by Lewis


Do you believe in magic? 
Yeah. 
Believe in the magic in a young girl's soul 
Believe in the magic of rock 'n' roll 
Believe in the magic that can set you free 
Ohhhh, talkin' bout magic....

So goes the lyric by the smooth and silky Lovin' Spoonful. According to Webster's, "magic" is "the use of means (such as charms and spells) believed to have supernatural power over natural forces" or "an extraordinary power or influence seemingly from a supernatural source" or "the art of producing illusions by sleight of hand".

To answer Lovin' Spoonfuls' question, yes, I do believe there is power in music to set one's soul free, so to speak, and it isn't limited to rock 'n' roll or the soul of a young girl, for that matter. What Lovin' Spoonful is singing about is the magic that is part of ordinary, everyday lives, not the magic of Webster's dictionary. And, when push comes to shove, isn't that the only kind that really matters?

I would like to tell you a story of how magic has affected my life. It begins shortly after my ex-wife, Jan, and I were married in 1972--six weeks after, to be precise. It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving. I was working in the front yard of our home in Detroit. It was a warm day for late November. Jan came out of the house, obviously upset. She was bleeding rather heavily from her vagina. She had talked to her gynecologist, who recommended taking her to Brent, a private hospital, immediately.

What happened thereafter must be weighed in consideration of the fact that it was two months before the U.S. Supreme Court's decision in Roe v. Wade. It was less than a mile to Brent but for Jan it was as if she had stepped through a portal to hell. I did not witness any of the events I am about to describe. I only learned of them from Jan.

Within an hour of my leaving her off at the hospital, the orderlies were transferring her from the gurney to the examination table and dropped her on the floor. To add insult to injury, their main concern was for the well-being of the fetus; Jan was first-runner-up.

By this time, she had passed tissue as well as blood and was convinced that the fetus was not healthy. Nevertheless, she was instructed to lie perfectly still in the hospital bed. The doctor prescribed a sedative to calm her down but she only pretended to swallow the pill. When the nursing staff had left her room, she got out of bed and did pushups on the floor, hoping to abort, which, eventually, she did. The staff was none the wiser.

About a year later, Jan was pregnant again. As before, at about six weeks gestation, she began to bleed. That pregnancy also resulted in a miscarriage. Tests disclosed that Jan had a bifurcated uterus--a membrane separated it into two parts. That didn't leave enough space for the fetus to develop normally. The doctor's recommendation was surgery to remove the membrane. The odds of success were 50/50. We decided to go ahead with the procedure. Two weeks before the surgery was to happen, we learned that Jan was pregnant again, despite her being on the pill. We decided to take a wait-and-see approach to the fetus' development.

This is where the magic began. Not only did the fetus go to term but developed into a 9-pound, 5-ounce baby girl, Laura. The delivery was not exactly "normal", however. Yes, we had taken the "natural childbirth" and Lamaze classes but there is no way to plan or prepare for an umbilical cord that is wrapped around the baby's neck. The obstetrician decided to induce birth early and use forceps. We had chosen a hospital, Hutzel Women's Hospital in Detroit, that allowed the father to be present for the birth. I had planned for it but had not a clue as to the role I was about to play.

The birthing table, upon which Jan lay, was massive. I think it was made of marble or something equally heavy. The doctor was at one end, his forceps clamped on the baby's head, a nurse was lying across Jan's abdomen and I was holding onto the other end of the table. Nevertheless, the doctor was dragging the table with its cargo of three human adults across the delivery room floor by our daughter's neck while Jan pushed as hard as she could. (Incidentally, my wife was about 5'8" and 160 pounds.) I was afraid that our baby was going to be born in installments. But, no, she came out in one piece, her head a little flattened on the sides, slightly jaundiced, hoppin' mad, and gorgeous to both her parents.

On my first visit to mother and daughter in the hospital, I donned the required gown. You know the type--they cover the front of you completely and tie in the back. Laura had been in an incubator for her jaundice. The nurse brought her in and handed her to Jan in the bed for feeding. After Laura had nursed for a while, Jan asked if I would like to hold her. I said "yes", even though I had little-to-no experience with holding a live baby, especially one so small. After holding Laura to my shoulder for a few minutes, I handed her back to Jan.

As I was leaving, I removed the gown. There, near the shoulder of the dress shirt I wore to work, was a pea-sized spot of meconium, a baby's first bowel movement. True, it's sterile and has no particular smell, but I knew that I had been branded. My daughter had found an "outlet" for her anger at having to undergo such a rigorous birth and I knew she would have the upper hand for as long as we both lived.

On the night of Laura's birth, as I drove home at about 5:00 AM, I turned on the car's radio to WDET-FM, the public and classical radio station at the time. The streets were empty and as I merged onto I-75 for the 10-minute ride home, the interior of the car was filled with the sounds of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, Fourth Movement. In the last section of that movement, the massive choir of over a hundred mixed voices rises to sing "Ode to Joy" in concert with the musicians. You have only to hear it once to know that MAGIC is happening. Only a genius who could not hear the sound of his own voice could have composed such glorious sounds. My heart, already swollen with pride, nearly burst.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. But even better than Santa Claus, there is magic all around us all the time. It speaks to us only if we open our hearts to it and believe--believe that there is always light at the end of the tunnel, that we are given love in proportion to that which we give to others and that, above all, we must never lose faith either in ourselves or the blessed and precious world we have been given.

[P.S. Just a brief afterthought about the "magic" of childbirth--

I see nothing particularly remarkable about the male role in this process. The job of the sperm is two-fold: a) engage in the singularly manly pursuit of trying to outrace the other 100-200 million sperm to the egg and b) equally as manly, be the first to penetrate the hard outer layer of the egg, thus reaching its nucleus where the sperm's genetic content merges with that of the egg. The life of the sperm thus reminds me of nothing more than of the leeches who attached themselves to the main character's nether regions in the movie, Stand by Me--neither ennobling nor romantic.

What transpires within the uterus of the woman, however, is simply one magic trick after another. Nine months is longer than most men remain faithful. It's uncomfortable enough that most men wouldn't endure it unless they were being paid tens of thousands of dollars per month and on network television. Many of them are nowhere to be found when the nine months are up. Yet, they think they are entitled to make the rules as to whether the fetus must be allowed to go full-term. It's as if the leech had a nine-month, no-breech lease on your groin. All of a sudden, the "magic" is gone.]

© 26 August 2013



About the Author


I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn't getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth. Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband's home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.

Friday, August 19, 2016

10 Good Things About Being LGBTQ, by Lewis


[I found the topic “Blue Skies” to be a bit too “pie in the sky” for me to think of anything to muse about.  Therefore, I have decided to take up a subject that was suggested by someone as a way to overcome some of the sadness and negativity brought on by the Orlando Pulse Club massacre.]


1.              
1.  Not being straight (roads are always more fun when curved).

2.  Not needing help to put an outfit together.

3.  Being able to enjoy “chic flicks” even when not a chic.

4.  Having friends of the other gender without all the bullshit that goes with romance.

5.  Never having to shop for fishing gear.

6.  Being able to mix with both genders at parties.

7.  Never being chastised for not putting the toilet seat down.

8.  Being able to trade clothes with my lover.

9.  Feeling special without doing anything special.

10.  Coming to Storytellers every Monday.

© 27 Jun 2016 

About the Author 

I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn't getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth.

Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband's home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.

Tuesday, August 9, 2016

Bicycle Memories (Parts 1 & 2), by Lewis

                                                    Part 1

I have already covered a couple of my “bicycle memories” in past stories, including that of lying on the front lawn of my house waiting for Sears to deliver the bicycle that my grandfather had bought for me and having an allergic reaction to the tetanus shot I received after being unintentionally cut off by an older boy while I was still a novice and sailing head-first into a ditch.

Having saved the best for last, I will now relate the tale of my “near-death” bicycle memory.  I was about nine-years-old.  I don’t remember whether I was riding home from school or just out for a “cruise”.  I was at the corner of Washington Street and 26th Avenue in Hutchinson, Kansas, riding south.  The intersection was not regulated by stop or yield signs.  Unseen by me, a panel delivery truck was approaching the intersection from my right.  We collided.  I have no memory of being struck.  When I came to, several strangers, including the truck’s driver, were bending over me looking quite concerned.  Apparently, I had struck my forehead on the curb.


To say I was lucky would be an understatement.  The driver must have slammed on his brakes in time to slow to a great degree.  I was able to ride my bike home.  I have no memory of seeing a doctor or even informing my parents, although I believe they did receive a phone call from the police.  I’m sure my mother was relieved to know that I required no care from her.

© 30 May 2016 

Part 2 

[Because the chosen topic for today, “Public Places”, carries very little resonance with me and my story from last week on the subject of “Bicycle Memories”, while focusing on my “near death experience” on a two-wheeled conveyance, omitted two other two-wheeled adventures that, while less serious, are nevertheless forever emblazoned in my memory.  Taken together, they offer a clue to as why I have not sat astride a bicycle for nearly ten years now.]

The first misadventure took place in August of 2001.  My late husband, Laurin, and I were fond of taking bike rides around our neighborhood in Dearborn, MI.  On this occasion, we were heading back to our apartment building on a public sidewalk when I took a spill.  I can’t remember the exact cause.  I only had a slight scrape but it shook me up enough that I walked my bike the last three blocks home.

Within a few days, we were on our way to Montreal for the Gay Pride Day Parade.  We hung our new bike rack on the decklid of our car crossing our fingers that everything would remain secured for the entire journey.  Having arrived without incident, we thought it would be fun to drive our car to the top of Mt. Royale and ride our bikes down the long, steep hill.  It wasn’t long before we had attained a high enough speed that I noticed that all was not right with my front wheel.  It had a noticeable wobble.  I nearly lost control.  I had no choice but to walk my bike to the bottom of the incline.  The street there was lined with shops and I was lucky to find a bicycle shop nearby.  Within a couple of hours, all was fixed but the seed of doubt had been planted once again that perhaps bikes and I just don’t get along.  (Some of you may remember the story I told a year or so ago about being cut off by another boy as a novice bike rider and sailing head-over-handle bars into a ditch where I cut my forehead on a rock and ended up with an allergic reaction to the old horse-derived tetanus serum.)

But the “Bicycle Memory” to top them all occurred ten years ago almost to the day.  Laurin and I were simply going out for a nice, easy pleasant ride around Capitol Hill.  We needed to air our tires, as they had gotten rather low in storage.  We stopped at the Conoco station at 8th Ave. and Downing.  They must have had two air hoses because I remember both of us filling our tires simultaneously.  I had just completed the job when I heard a loud “BLAM”.  Laurin had over-inflated one of his tires and it had blown out.  So, we took turns riding my bike and walking his to Turin Bicycles at 7th Ave. and Lincoln St.  The blow-out had bent the rim on his bike and they needed a day to make the repairs.  We headed toward home with just my bike.  I rode a few blocks down 7th Ave. and then offered my bike to Laurin.  In those days, 7th Ave. sidewalk crossings were not graded for the handicapped.  For some reason--perhaps related to his incipient but undiagnosed Parkinson’s--Laurin did not stop in time and ran into the rather high curb.  He ended up flying over the handlebars and now my bike, too, had a bent rim.  My visions of what the guys at the bike shop would say or think haunted my every step on the return trip.

Well, they were very diplomatic about showing any disbelief or contempt (after all, we were now repeat customers).  The walk home was very long but we both saw the funny side of the entire affair.  I was extremely relieved that Laurin was hardly scratched from his fall.  Later, with both repairs having been completed, we immediately set about finding a buyer for the bikes from Hell.  From then on, we would trust our lives to walking shoes, which are guaranteed never to blow out or get bent.

© 5 Jun 2016 

About the Author 

I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn't getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth.

Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband's home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

Believing, by Lewis


In every corner of the world, from the time a child is first able to understand her or his native tongue, they are taught to believe what their parents believe.  They learn what “truth” is in the same way that they learn how to wash their hands before dinner or how to dress themselves.  At first, they do it because their parents make them do it.  Later, they do it because they see the sense in it.  They learn not to touch a hot stove because it burns, just as Mommy or Daddy told them.  They soon realize that Mommy and Daddy are pretty smart and they could learn a lot from listening to them.

Before long, Mommy and Daddy are taking them to church.  In church, they learn all kinds of new rules and “truths”.  Most, if not all, of these “truths” cannot be verified through personal observation.  But because they have come to trust their parents to be truthful with them, they believe them.  Why not?  Lots of good things are supposed to happen to them if they will only believe.

As the children begin to go out into the broader world more and more, they soon discover that some of the other children do not hold the same truths as “self-evident”.  This causes conflict and confusion.  Some parents—hoping at the very least to postpone this internal uncertainty—“home school” their kids.  Others send their kids to schools whose teachings include faith-based instruction.

So far, so good.  The parents are happy and their children are content.  As they grow older, they become more-and-more convinced that their view is the way things really are.  In fact, they may not even be aware that there are people who see the world in an entirely different way.

Sooner or later, however, they are almost certain to bump up against something they read in the newspaper or a magazine or book that seems inconsistent with what their parents and religious leaders taught them.  This could affect them in a couple of ways—it might cause them to become defensive and contentious or they might begin to question what they have always been taught and seek to find the truth on their own.

For example, let’s say the child has been taught and has come to believe in the story of the “creation” of the universe as taught in Genesis.  In fourth grade science class one day or at the movies or on TV, she or he hears that the earth and universe were formed over billions of years.  These two ideas are hard to reconcile.  It would require quite a fertile imagination to embrace both concepts simultaneously.  Now, the child or adolescent is faced with making a choice between two “truths”.  One choice will risk the child losing the good graces of one or both parents and the other will call into question all he or she knows about their faith, including their standing with God. 

It’s pretty clear to me which choice is the one to make if you want to cut your losses.  Thus, many will cling tenaciously to the spiritual tenants of their parents, regardless of what the vast majority of well-educated scholars and learned professors may tell them. 

This would not create too much of a stir if not for the inconvenient truth that these individuals, whose political philosophy is grounded in the same mythology as their religion, use their vote and their voice in furtherance of ideas grounded not in what is known but in what is Legend.  For these people, knowledge is the enemy, since truth is “revealed” but only to the “favored”.  Since they are among the “favored”, they are not morally obligated to ever change their beliefs.  In fact, it is part of their mission to try to prevent ideas they disfavor from ever being seen by the unwashed public.

As members of one or another sexual minority group, we have been victimized by such people for millennia.  Other victims include Jews, atheists, agnostics, Muslims, Buddhists, Farsi, Hindi, Native Americans, Africans, women seeking abortions, socialists, liberals and too many others to name.  Would the U.S. have unleashed the hydrogen bomb on Japan if they had been Caucasian Christians like the Germans?

I must make it clear that I do not see “belief” per se as the problem.  Rather, as Karen Armstrong has brilliantly lain out in her book, The Battle for God, the curse of all civilizations throughout time is Fundamentalism, in any of its myriad forms.  Essentially, Fundamentalism is the conviction (I hesitate to use the word ‘belief”) that there is but one Truth with a capital ‘T’.  All other opinions are blasphemy and must be wiped out.  Most certainly, they must not ever be given any thought for fear that they might pollute the Pure Mind.  For these folks, to think, as was the official slogan of the General Electric Co. in the 1950’s and ‘60’s that “Progress Is Our Most Important Product” is nothing short of Devil’s Talk.

© 11 Jan 2016 

About the Author 

 I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn't getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth.

Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband's home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.


Monday, June 6, 2016

The Women in My Life, by Lewis


I.  TRUDY
I think I am on safe ground in saying that I am likely the serendipitous product of the unlikely coupling of a lesbian with a man who never seems to have had a prurient thought in his lifetime.
I wrote extensively about my mother back on December 2nd of last year.  Back then, I did not delve into the circumstantial evidence for my mother's lesbianism.  I will wade into that somewhat sticky thicket today, however, as it is the earliest historical instance of the almost fantastical history of the women in my experience.
Let us turn the imaginary clock back to May 15th, 1939.  The scene is Pratt, Kansas, a place scarcely touched by the Renaissance, let alone the Enlightenment.  Married to Bernard for 12-years with children, B.J., aged 10, and Joyce, aged 8, Mother filed for divorce on the grounds of "extreme cruelty".  The Divorce Agreement goes on to claim that "unfortunate differences and disputes have arisen between the parties and they have separated with the intention of living separate and apart from each other during the remainder of their natural life [sic]".
The only complaints Mother ever expressed to me about Bernard were that he was an alcoholic and once came onto their porch distraught and tearfully imploring her to take him back.  She berated his lack of manliness.  My half-sister and -brother, who continued to see their father until his death, told me that he was not an alcoholic.
Here's where the Divorce Agreement gets bizarre:  "There have been two children born of this marriage…They are now living with the husband and he is to have the care and custody of said children in the future.  In this connection the said husband agrees to be responsible for the support and maintenance of said children.  It is further agreed that the wife shall be permitted to see and visit said children and said children are to be allowed to see and visit with her.
"It is further understood and agreed that the husband and wife, since their marriage, have accumulated but little real and personal property...and they have some personal property, including an automobile.  All of said property is to belong to the husband, except any items of personal property belonging to the wife."
Then, comes this little tidbit:  "...[T]he said wife does hereby release and discharge the said husband from all obligations of support and from all claims and duties arising out of their marital relations."
Within a year-and-a-half, my mother had married again, this time to my father.  It was his first marriage.  I'm not certain of the date of their first meeting, but I do know where it took place.  Dad had an office on the second floor of the Sears department store in downtown Pratt where my mother and another woman operated a beauty parlor.  At some point in this interval between "Hello" and "I do", Mom's business partner unceremoniously departed for California.  My suspicion is that Mom got caught in a gay tryst and surrendered all rights to parentage and property to silence Bernard.  That would also explain the sudden departure of mom's business partner for the west coast.
Since I have covered some of this ground before, I will not repeat myself.  Suffice it to say that for as long as I can remember, Mom and Dad slept in twin beds.  From the time I was six, Dad dressed in another room.  I never remember seeing them kissing or hugging or showing any form of physical affection during their 49-year marriage.  Was Mom gay?  Dad?  Both?  Neither?  Perhaps they were perfectly suited marital partners--each as cover for the other at a time when being gay was strictly verboten.  I'll probably never know for certain. 
II.  JOYCE
Joyce was Mom's second child by her first husband, Bernard.  I have mentioned her before in one of these stories as the young woman who gave me such a thrill when she stayed overnight in my bed when I was about 3 or 4 years old.  She was truly beautiful and a dear, sweet person.  I adored her and so did my mother.
As long as I can remember, Joyce was married to Moe.  Moe was an engineer on the railroad.  They lived in Pratt.  They had two children, a boy, Damon, followed a couple years later by a girl, DeeAnn.  I was an uncle at the age of 9.  When they came to visit, Mom and Joyce would go shopping and I would play with my niece and nephew.  We all got along famously.
When she was 55, Joyce was afflicted with pancreatic cancer and soon died.  It was a terrible blow to the family, and my mother in particular.  I will treasure her memory forever.
III.  SANDY SUE
Before I started school, my best friend was Sandy Sue.  She lived in a corner house at the far end of the block.  She had a basement where we could play hide-and-seek.  Sometimes, when other kids were around, we would play spin-the-bottle.  On one occasion, Sandy Sue and I were in the basement playing with matches.  Somehow--I'm pretty certain I had a roll to play--a wastebasket was set on fire.  The flames shot up as high as my head.  We both panicked.   Sandy's mother must have heard something or smelled smoke because she came running down the stairs and put out the fire.  I was sent home, now as a persona non grata. 
IV.  JUDY
When I was half-way through kindergarten, my parents moved into a small ranch house with three bedrooms so my maternal Granddad could live with us and Dad could have an office at home.  On moving day, I was standing in the front yard taking in the new surroundings when I heard a voice approaching from behind.   It was Judy.  She was what they used to call a tomboy.  She grew up with three older brothers and liked to do things that boys like to do.  Although I was pretty shy, we became the best of friends.
I should have known by then that playing in basements invited risky behaviors.  When we were about 10--Judy was 12 days younger than I--we were playing hide-and-seek in her basement when she said, "Let's play doctor!"
"How do you play 'doctor'?", I naively queried.
"Well, I'll be the doctor first and you'll be the patient, then we'll switch", she replied.  "You'll start by taking off your clothes."
"Oh, no,” I blurted out.
"Don't worry.  I do it with my brother and he doesn't mind."
"If you insist, I'm leaving."
"OK, I won't insist," she said.
I've often wondered whether, had I not been so unaccustomed to being naked in the presence of others or had I not been an inchoate gay boy, might I have responded differently to Judy's entreaty.
When we were 5th graders, Judy and her family moved to Wichita.  Much later, on a visit when we were 19, she proposed to me.  By that time, I understood why "playing doctor" with her had not aroused my curiosity.  I told her "No", once again.  By that time, her family was living in Evergreen, CO, and I saw her only infrequently.  She married, then divorced, then married again and is now living in Arvada.  We are still friends though no longer close.
V.  JANET
After graduating from the University of Kansas with a Mechanical Engineering degree in January of 1970, I took a job with Ford in Dearborn, MI.  For the first time in my life, I had neither school nor friends to keep me busy.  I had lots of time to think about who I was and where my life was going.  I decided to get some professional counseling.  After many visits, I told my psychologist that I was sexually attracted to men.  His advice was to tell me that I would be happy if I simply found the right woman.  Within less than a year, I had met a woman and we started dating.  I was very uncomfortable and must have telegraphed my discomfort.  It only lasted a couple of months. 
Soon, I was feeling secure enough in my orientation that I wanted to come out to my parents back in Kansas.  I told my therapist that I was thinking of writing them a "coming out" letter.  He said that would be a terrible mistake, so I didn't.
About six months later I went to a Christmas party attended by clients of my therapist's two group sessions.  I struck up a conversation with a young woman who was a member of the other group or, should I say, she struck up a conversation with me.  Her name was Janet and we talked for two hours.  Like Judy, she was extroverted, very down-to-earth, and knew her own mind.  Not liking to linger at parties, I politely excused myself, said my "goodbyes" and left.  As I was getting into my car, a man known to both Janet and me came rushing out of the house with a note in his hand.  It was Janet's phone number.
Well, I did call her a few days later.  We had many interests in common and began to see each other regularly.  I even told her of my interest in men.  Janet had been "around the block", shall I say, sexually, having once been a member of the Sexual Freedom League, an organization formed in 1963 in New York City which, to quote Wikipedia, "existed to promote and conduct sexual activity among its members and to agitate for political reform, especially for the repeal of laws against abortion and censorship, and had many female leaders".  The fact that Janet had been raised in a Polish Catholic family but had rejected the Church while still in college for its sexism, only made her more attractive to me.
Within three months or so, we were having sex regularly.  I can remember driving to work from her apartment after spending the night wondering if my co-workers could detect the odor of our coupling. 
We were about to have sex in my bedroom on one day that July of 1972 when Janet asked me if I was still attracted to men.  I answered truthfully, "Yes".  She then wanted to know if I was still committed to marital monogamy, a subject we had discussed at length.  I answered in the affirmative.  She was happy with that. 
We married that fall in the Unitarian Universalist Church in Rockford, IL.  The minister had been at the Detroit UU Church when we first met.  Her family came from Michigan, mine from Minnesota and Kansas, so the location was a good compromise. 
That night, there was no latex involved in our love-making.  By Thanksgiving, Janet began spotting.  Something was wrong.  I have already told this story, so I'll spare you now, except to say that we lost that child.  Eventually, luck being with us, we had two children, a girl and a boy.
I was absolutely true to my word and remained faithful to Janet throughout the 26 years of our marriage, as she was to me.  Oh, I had a rich fantasy life and that kept me going, so to speak.  We both had careers, she as an elementary school teacher and I as an automotive engineer.  Neither of us lived to work, however, and no housework nor child care activity was beneath either of our dignities.
As time went on, however, I found it increasingly difficult to sublimate my gay inner persona.  I began to focus more and more at home on my hobby, thinking that merely being "present" was parenting enough.  It wasn't, though it took me many years to figure that out--at a cost of much pain to my kids.  I won't dwell on this now.  That will be the subject for another Monday afternoon.
Let it suffice to say that Janet and I are still friends to this day, despite divorcing in 1999.  Janet stated emphatically that she would never remarry and she has held true to that conviction.  She lives close enough to both kids to see them regularly.  She spends her time playing clarinet in three community bands, taking watercolor classes, and visiting friends.  She has a number of serious health issues and is scheduled for hip replacement surgery in December.
For a quarter century, we were as close as any man and woman I have ever known.  She brought me blessings by the bucketful.  I couldn't have asked for a more loving companion and partner. 
LAURA/CALIX
I have already written about Laura's difficult delivery using forceps on her head while the doctor pulled the delivery table, a nurse, and me across the delivery room floor.  I also told about the first time I held her in my arms when she was less than a day old, removing the hospital gown I had been given only to find a blob of baby poop on my dress shirt.  Yes, it was very early in my daughter's life that I knew who was calling the shots.
Calix was not the name Janet and I gave her at birth.  That was "Laura".  "Calix" is the name our daughter assumed when she became an adult.  Other than both consisting of five letters, the second of which is 'a', the two names could hardly sound more different.  It was just another milestone on her journey toward becoming her own person.
Is it a rule of parenting that, if one of your children is neat, punctual, compliant, unassuming and shy, the other will be passive-aggressive, messy, contrary, and stubborn?  If so, how much of that is rebellion, how much life experience, and how much luck-of-the-draw?
In 1980, Janet and I, with our daughter about to enter kindergarten, moved from Detroit to the tony suburb of Grosse Pointe Farms, where Janet taught 4th grade.  For the 7-1/2 years we lived in the big city, we had not had so much as a lawn sprinkler stolen, although it had been slightly unnerving to watch the tree limbs drop to the ground as the next-door neighbors and their friends fired their guns into the sky on New Years' Eve.
Five months after moving in, Janet and I attended a Detroit Symphony Orchestra concert.  The baby-sitter we had hired--and her parents--were known to Janet through her teaching.  The girl was 13 but kind of new to baby-sitting, certainly new to us.  After the concert, we had been invited to the home of one of Janet's fellow teachers for coffee.  Driving home around 12:30 AM, we could see from a couple of blocks away flashing red lights in the vicinity of our house.  As we pulled into the drive, the side door opened and a plainclothes policeman approached the car.  He ushered us inside.  There had been some trouble.
Earlier in the evening, a woman known only superficially to Janet had been in the emergency waiting room of a local hospital with a couple of friends.  They were trying to get her committed for psychiatric care but needed the signature of a second doctor because it was without the patient's consent.  At some point, the distraught woman had simply walked out of the hospital and took off on foot in the direction of our house.  She had gone nearly two miles when a neighbor noticed her in the middle of the street, shedding clothes as she went.  The neighbor called the police.  We had left the side porch light on.  Whether that was what attracted the woman to our house or not, I don't know.  She walked up to the side door naked from the waist up and rang the bell.  I'm sure she was verbalizing, as well.
When the baby-sitter saw her, she turned back and ran to the kitchen, where there was a phone.  She called her home.  Her dad answered.  Meanwhile, the woman broke a small window glass in the side door and let herself in.  She walked up to the sitter and began running her fingers through the girl's hair, upon which the babysitter dropped the phone and ran out the door.  At this point, the woman began rummaging through the kitchen drawers, looking for something to use as a weapon.  All she found, luckily, was a pair of vegetable shears.  She set out looking for a victim. 
The babysitter ran screaming toward a couple across the street walking their dog.  She tried to tell them which house she had come from but, in her panic and unfamiliarity, wasn't sure.  At just this moment, a cop car came down the street in response to the phone call reporting that a woman was taking off her clothes and dropping them on the street.
The distraught woman walked right past the bedroom where our two-year-old son was sleeping to the far end of the ranch house and into Laura's bedroom.  Waking her, she knelt over her and began to make mostly superficial stab wounds over Laura's face, torso, and near her vagina.  The most serious of the wounds penetrated Laura's lower lip.
When the police entered the house, they saw the woman wielding the scissors while repeating, "I have to kill the children".  It took three officers to wrestle the woman to the floor and put her coat back on to take her away.
Laura was not seriously hurt physically.  All of the wounds healed on their own except for the one to the lip, which required a stitch or two.  At the commitment hearing for the woman, I sat just in front of her husband, who whispered to me that all women are just a hair away from mental instability once a month anyway.  She was committed to a mental hospital for 90 days, after which she was released to the care of her loving husband.
Janet and I sought counseling for Laura immediately.  Some of the advice we got was less than useful, though we did not realize it right away.  I'm sure some of it did more harm than good, including setting up a point system to reward good behavior and punish bad.  Laura had always been late for everything, slow to dress, having to be coaxed to get ready for school, on and on.  She started sucking her thumb and continued doing it into high school.  It caused her mother and me no end of frustration.
In high school, Laura befriended a girl who also was an outsider.  Their relationship was so close that other kids thought they were lesbians.  Our son, Nolan, two years younger, was teased about that when he started high school.  In their senior year, Laura and the other girl had a falling out.  The other girl brought a knife to school and threatened Laura with it.  Laura became depressed.  She was hospitalized and diagnosed with PTSD, probably from the incident when she was four.
Calix was a talented poet and artist.  She went on to college hoping to teach philosophy but ran into a brick wall when it came to writing term papers.  She not only had PTSD but also ADD and Generalized Anxiety Disorder.  At age 38, she is still a year away from a bachelor's degree and works for $9 an hour at a clothes cleaning establishment.
Four years ago, she married the love of her life, Scott.  He works at Walgreen's as a clerk though he holds an MBA which he earned online.  Together, they made $25K last year and have, between them, over $70K in college loan debt.  They are living almost from hand-to-mouth and their future is far from bright.   They seem happy, though they cannot afford to have the child they so much desire, and I am happy for them.  It's nothing like the life Janet and I wanted for her but it will have to do.
EPILOGUE
There is another woman who has played a critical role in my life.  She was my son's girlfriend back in 2008.  Her name was Jasmine.  Nolan has a penchant for dating women with exotic names--Alethea, Jasmine, and Destiny among them.
One night in late February of 2008, Jasmine came to confront Nolan in his apartment after he had sought to break off the relationship.  Jasmine picked up a knife and stabbed Nolan in the throat, just missing his carotid artery by 2 mm.  He ran down the stairs and into the attached garage.  He got into his car and pressed the garage door opener.  Jasmine followed him to the garage and used the button near the inside door to close the garage door again.  She still clutched the knife.  Nolan got out of the car, ducked under the closing door and ran from neighbor to neighbor, barefoot, pajama-clad and bleeding in the snow, seeking help.  After several rebuffs, an elderly woman let him in.  Jasmine was tried and went to jail for four months following a plea bargain, despite evidence that she had used Nolan's computer to research the anatomy of the human neck, including the location of the critical artery.
I believe I am truly unique in the fact that both of my children were at one point in their lives stabbed by emotionally distraught, if not downright loony, women.  I think that gives me a somewhat unique perspective although I have no idea as to what.

© 24 Nov 2012 

About the Author 


I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn't getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth.

Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband's home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.