My Favorite Place by Michael King

My favorite place is being in my imagination where I can fantasize. I imagine how a painting will make a statement and then let the fantasy work itself out on canvas. Usually the fantasy is better than the painting however after a few years I often realize that the painting does express that concept. In this process the painting seems to paint itself. This is true of writing also. I will have an idea that I wish to express and the story writes itself.

In my imagination a meal will begin and as I put things together in the kitchen the food on the plate will be a facsimile of the idea with the colors and flavors being nearly as beautiful as I had visualized. With a little practice I can figure out timing, visual impact and blending of flavors so that the meal actually duplicates my fantasy.

I enjoy imagining the decorating of a room, making a sculpture, planning a trip and wishing for things and then later enjoying the outcome of my previous fantasies. I had a list of the qualities I hoped for in a companion. One day he walks into a coffee shop, we take one look at each other and have been together ever since. My world is in a large part the joy of having been somewhat creative, very individual and personal and filled with appreciation.

As I look back on my life everything I ever wanted I have gotten. Not always when and exactly like I expected but often I achieved or received what I had visualized. Some desires that came to pass were fairly disastrous and it took time to recover. Others came too late to be of any real satisfaction.

I don’t just lie around fantasizing all the time. I take a little time to bring about results. I also explore what and how I want to be doing, what experiences I would like to have happen and what I want to do or get to make my environment enjoyable including activities and social events. But when I’m not doing something to fulfill my wishful thinking, I’m laying around focusing on my imaginary world where wishes are discovered, arranged, rearranged and visualized with smells, sounds, feelings and emotions and being prepared for manifestation. My favorite place is in my imagination.

© 6 July 2013

About the Author

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities," Telling your Story"," Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio". I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

The Essence of GLBTQ by Michael King

I was four or maybe five when I asked my grandmother why Aunt Ethel’s son wasn’t at any family gatherings. I knew she had a son but I had never met him and no one ever mentioned him so it all seemed strange to me. My grandmother held her head high and announced, “He is not welcome. He likes boys,”

I didn’t understand but I knew without a doubt that I could never like boys, whatever that meant. Around the same time since I was always sick the doctor suggested that my family find some activity for me to do when I was bedfast. My grandmother taught me to crochet. I liked to dress up, dance and in general I would now consider myself to have been the “sissy” that I was often teased as. I now think that my parents accepted that I was queer. They seemed to be very surprised when I got married.

I have always been naive. I wasn’t influenced by religious fundamentalism, sin, hellfire and damnation. I was instead very concerned with rejection, hatefulness, and not being accepted. I was very curious about male genitalia. I didn’t get to do any athletics because of asthma so I didn’t get to see other guys to satisfy my curiosities. I just knew that it wasn’t OK to like boys.

I did have numerous advances made by older men and a few curiosity jack offs with guys my own age. I chalked it up to satisfying my interests not to liking boys. In the case of older men it would now be classified as having been molested. If ever it had been a satisfying experience perhaps I would have lived a different life. Those experiences were without my consent and uncomfortable, not pleasurable.

Even in college the few times I was having sex with guys I didn’t know how or what to do and neither did they. I did want to get married, raise a family and be like a man was supposed to be. I was also curious about having sex with a woman but had accepted that you waited to get married and then you were supposed to celebrate your 50th wedding anniversary surrounded by children, grandchildren and a large and perfect family.

I was introduced to my first wife by an older friend that I met in a summer class. He thought that we would be a perfect match. We met in August and married in December and my first daughter was born in October. I was 20 years old. We did enjoy sex and were living a pretty good and acceptable life for 13 years. My children were very important to me and she neglected them. I couldn’t deal with that so I divorced her and got custody of the children

I didn’t do much about my curiosities. I didn’t even realize how much fear of being unacceptable controlled my life. I seemed to know the rules and had to appear to follow them. I had the fear that if I explored and got caught that the world would fall apart or worse. I still couldn’t like boys. If there was any sex it could not be accompanied with intimacy or affection. I fell in love with a straight guy who was my best friend. He knew it and wanted the friendship but sex was out of the question. That was the closest I came to thinking that I could like another man and have intimacy and love. It took another 38 years for me to meet someone that I could love. I did have several girlfriends after the divorce and enjoyed the sex but couldn’t let myself fall in love. Then I met my second wife. I guess you could say she seduced me. Of course I let her. That was my MO. She came to my place and never left.

I had my three children and I decided that if we were going to live together we needed to be married. We got married. I was more and more aware that men appealed to me but since I couldn’t be intimate with a man I settled into a pretty good 12 year marriage.

I somehow couldn’t come to grips with being gay if I didn’t have a boyfriend. I also didn’t think I could be gay and keep my job. Women seemed to present themselves and I had girl friends but I didn’t have sex with most of them. I just wasn’t interested but I did like the attention and it helped me to live as the acceptable straight image that I thought I had to have. Finally I attended the Gay Pride activities 4 years ago, got involved in Prime Timers and then the GLBT Center and 6 months later had my first boyfriend. It lasted 2 months but I came out, introduced him to my kids and have been a flaming queen ever since.

So what is the essence of GLBTQ? It’s being who you are even if it takes a lifetime. I am happier now than I have ever been. I have the most wonderful partner and my kids all love him too. Could I have found the essence of being gay earlier? Probably not. Through the “Telling your Story” group I have gotten in touch with all those rules and requirements that made being queer impossible. “He likes boys” is the best part of my life. The journey was a wonderful way to grow and mature spiritually as well as emotionally. That maturation process is the essence of being, finding out who you are and being who you are.

July 13, 2013

About the Author

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities," Telling your Story"," Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio". I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

Writing by Michael King

Off and on in the past, I attempted to do some writing. The stories were probably OK but I never did anything with them. They may be in some notebook that I will never open again. My spelling was atrocious and I printed so that even I might be able to read it. I didn’t use the dictionary until more recently and then along with the arrival of Merlyn there is a computer and spell-check.

About four and a half years ago I started attending the men’s coffee at the GLBT Center when it was still on Broadway. When I found out that Jackie, Ken’s intern with the SAGE program was doing a “Telling your story” group, I decided to attend. At first I did a couple of oral reports based on the topic. Then I decided to write the stories. It seems that no matter what the topic was, some suppressed memory, baggage of the past would appear. I would choke up. I had no idea how much childhood pain I had hidden from myself. I’m sure it is a form of self-protection to ignore unpleasant and traumatic experiences so we can continue on. Having been unable to resolve the situation and not having the skills to confront those family members that I depended on, I tried to ignore all unpleasantness. Some things that nearly brought on tears and caused me to feel like I was falling apart had been forgotten for well over 60 years.

Within a few weeks of these emotional breakdowns, I realized that I started feeling a resolve, a freedom, an understanding. I recognized that as a child I could not possibly have known how to be perfect, wise, in control, etc.

As time went on I had less and less flashbacks. I had a new freedom and was realizing that for me to really be comfortable with myself I had to discover my own truths, my now unencumbered potentials. I needed to examine what I wanted to do with my life all over again. I no longer had the old encumbered paradigm of how to be. I could more freely create a future that is based on my wishes and desires, hopes and dreams, freed from outside limitations and expectations.

This new awareness allowed for subtle changes, no dramatic or immediately recognizable differences. Mostly I could be without guilt or self-doubt. I could say "No" without getting emotional. And interestingly enough, I could have critical thoughts and not feel I had to say anything or sense regret. I could just keep them to myself or I could, if I so desired, raise a stink or attempt to change things without the accompanying embarrassment.

Now what happens when I write is that I have little concern what other people think. I seldom get emotional and I find that writing is a fantastic tool for more self-discovery, for a kind of inner growth and allows me to critically examine what I think and feel in areas that I’ve previously given no thought to. I am very thankful for “Story Time”. Writing has opened many doors and has come to be something to look forward to each week. It also is an activity that Merlyn and I do at the same time and share with each other before we come to the group. I’m so glad we got Phil to take charge and build the program that Jackie started. I think it is one of the best programs at the GLBT Center and that seems to be the opinion of all the regular participants. It has been not only an activity for personal gratification but an environment where we have developed friendships, better understanding of one another and we get insights from the disclosures that can only be made in such a loving and trusting group.

© 13 May 2013

About the Author

  

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities, "Telling your Story," "Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio." I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

Time by Michael King

As we all know time is the measured sequential relationship of the movement of objects in relation to one another or as we experience time it is the experiential intensity of intellectual and/or emotional focus. In actuality there is only the present but at this stage of our experience we exist in the universes of time and space. When we do experience being in the present, our abilities to more fully grasps our beingness increases.

I never was a fan of George Burns, however his comment that “You can’t help getting older, but you don’t have to get old,” is perhaps one of the better statements about our choosing to experience time.

One of my ideas of how I might relate to time is to recognize that each generation has a different socio-political environment. The various stages of the industrial developmental era has transitioned into the technological- communications era which is especially challenging to my age group. Time is experienced in the influence of technological nanoseconds, slow computers, texting, on line bill paying, rush hour, TV dinners or impersonal fast food consumption and when to take our high blood pressure pills. The social environment changes and along with it changes how we perceive time.

Many like me prefer to avoid the latest gadgets that hit the market, being glued to our cell phones, texting worthless messages and paying high prices to be up to the minute with the latest fad. I don’t want to take the time to keep up. I’m retired and want to sit back and relax, do something old fashioned and read or write with a pencil in a notebook.

But no, I now spend hours on a computer when it was only a short time ago I was glad not to have one.

Time, time consuming, no time to contemplate, no time just to do nothing, the telephone rings and it’s another recorded message that got through the no call list. Try being with a group of people having a supposedly intelligent conversation and two cellphones ring, the people at the next table are each texting, at the other tale we are listening to a loud one-sided conversation that doesn’t seem to make since. Is it time for me to make adjustments to the changes in society? How do I adjust so I am living in the present? How much time do I have to be more integrated into the changing society? Why should waste my time doing so? Is it time to withdraw in isolation and escape the pressing demands of the technological and micro communication era? What about the information age?

I am hooked on Google. I can find out about practically anything I want to know if I just put in the right search terminology. I can’t imagine how my life would have been if I’d had Wikipedia when I was I college. But then the times were different.

Now for the clincher, time is a concept. It may be a measure. It may seem like a reality. I may look at my watch or my cellphone. I may attend an event at a particular time. I have experienced transcending time. I have lost time. I have had plenty of time and then been late.

In traveling around the world I have seen many different kinds of sun dials or contraptions to measure time. Some watches and clocks are responsive to a totally accurate measure of time within micro moments of an accepted absolute. It’s still just a concept that measures relative relationships of an infinitesimal fraction of the universe of universes and still seems to have way too much control over our lives.

Perhaps we should take time to smell the roses.

© 20 March 2013

About the Author

  

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities," Telling your Story"," Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio". I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

Exploring by Michael King

In my fantasies I perceive myself as one who would explore places, ideas and experiences. Then I remember being in the Amazon and knew that without a guide I would get hopelessly lost. With that in mind I realize that in most areas except in reading books, checking out Google or in conversation I probably need a guide. Merlyn is the perfect guide and has had phenomenal experiences, is knowledgeable in computers and anything mechanical and has traveled and lived all over the mainland 48 states. I on the other hand was (and mostly still am) computer illiterate, non-mechanical and have no idea geographically the distance between one city and another or even the configuration of the states east of the Mississippi. I guess I’m not much of an explorer when it comes to even looking at a map. However, in areas of the spirit, aesthetics, design, color, cooking, feelings and ideals I have a world of my own and explore where few have or would even be interested.
For the most part I don’t even think in a language and probably wouldn’t be able to effectively communicate my inner world to another person nor can I imagine anyone even being interested.

The first time I traveled outside the western United States was when I was in the military. I took photographs while I was in Thailand. They were really excellent and I was so proud to show them to my family both as images representing where I had traveled and as artistic photography. I never did get anyone to even look at them. They weren’t interested. From that time until Merlyn insisted that I use his camera to take a few shots of my paintings and my apartment did I ever use a camera again. Looking back I realize that in Thailand, in the Philippines and in many other places around the world I have done a lot of exploring, especially if I thought I could ask directions if I got lost. I didn’t feel that way in the Amazon or in parts of Africa where I felt I needed a guide. I feel I also need a guide with the computer and not just once but repeatedly.

Exploring the inner world there is a kind of guidance but I only realized that after many years. In research I often find that I am limited by the authors of the material that is either in the library or on the internet. The key there is figuring how to locate what I’m looking for. These days I’m too occupied with activities and relationship to do much serious exploration using books or even the computer.

We spend most of our time exploring antique and junk stores. I am surprised at what one can find in a thrift store. We check out museums, places of interest as we travel and we explore each other’s memories and experiences.

The attitude I have now is to fully experience today and explore the possibilities that exist in the moment. Sharing that with someone makes each day a process of discovery, freshness and exploration.

April 29, 2013

About the Author

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities," Telling your Story"," Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio". I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

Don't Touch Me There by Michael King

There is a place where I would warn anyone thinking about touching me there; that would not be wise. My history of experiencing touch has changed throughout the years. I don’t remember even getting hugs as a child. I had little to no body contact until the girlfriend and occasional boy get together days. Even then my experience was rather measly.

When the kids came along I made sure they got hugs and affection. All the affection and body contact I remembered getting when I was young was from the dog. I didn’t even have much experience with handshakes. They were even rare.

In about 1977 I attended a study group and as I was leaving the host gave me a hug. I think I must have been in a state of shock as it was for me totally unexpected and I didn’t know what to think. I attended other study groups and realized that hugging was the way some of the people said hello or goodbye. I was probably 36 or 37 and this was new to me.

Now, I am known for giving hugs. I am often asked for a hug. I, however, am seldom in situations where there is touching otherwise except in the bedroom or at home in every room and then, often. I doubt anyone thinks about touching me there and it doesn’t matter because it’s nice being touched everywhere else.

As I said usually I could be touched there, but on that rare occasion when my body reacts automatically and I can’t endure being touched there the potential isn’t pretty. So, I’m warning everyone who might now know my secret that they could be putting their life in danger. Don’t ever tickle my feet. If you do when I’m unaware, beware.

This could be genetic. My uncle got his nose broken when he tickled my mother’s feet when she was a little girl. I think I have the same instinct. “Don’t touch me there!”

© 21 April 2013 

About the Author  

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities," Telling your Story"," Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio". I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

Remembering by Michael King

Since I have now been writing stories based on the topic of the week for about 3 ½ years, I have had a variety of insights relating to today’s topic “remembering”. Each topic seems to force me to examine my memories regarding the particular topic. When I first started it became very painful as I had so many of my life’s experiences so deeply buried in a hidden place somewhere to never be thought about again.

My lifetime of forgetting and going ahead had worked well up until I started thinking about the topic for rhe week. Some topics brought forth a tremendous surge of past hurts and disappointments. Others gave me the opportunity to see parts of my life more clearly. It didn’t seem to matter what feeling and memories I had. What I did begin to notice was resolve. I allowed myself to sincerely assess each group of experiences that came into my mind as I pondered the possible truth of these memories. Surprisingly, I realized that for the most part I didn’t at the time have the skills or the experience to handle whatever situation in a manner that met my high standards. I had often felt that I was a failure and incompetent. Now I can see that I simply didn’t know how to meet some of these challenges with any real level of maturity as I had not yet developed any coping techniques to address most of the painful disappointments and betrayals that always surprised me and my overly sensitive ego had no calloused self-protective armor. I so much have always wanted to live in a wonderful world where I was also wonderful and efficient, respected and loved, skillful and wise, happy and humorous, brave and self-sufficient, intelligent and knowledgeable, and on and on and on.

So, I must now take responsibility for having seen the world of my past as one that of course I couldn’t be comfortable in since I didn’t have the knowledge or understanding to be the person that I thought I should be. I didn’t allow for mistakes, ignorance, self forgiveness, nor did I allow for those in my environment to be less than honorable, trustworthy, mature, etc. Not only was I a disappointment to myself, but that was often reinforced by the way others treated me. I felt alone, that I couldn’t trust anyone including myself.

This was the frame of mind I had for the first 17 years of my life; I often focused on the negative and placed little attention on the positive. Now I see that there was much that I could have appreciated that I didn’t.

I am also aware that I can now review much of my life from a much clearer perspective since I have by now finally had the experiences and developed the coping skills and insights that allow me to put all those dreadful feeling and disappointments in a more realistic and understanding perspective. Yes, if I had been in a different environment and had mentors and so on it might have been different. Then I probably wouldn’t have the insight and compassion for understanding other people.

From 17 on, my world changed when I went to college and for the first time in my memory I didn’t have to feel on the defensive. I began to be more and more like I thought I should be and feel.

I continued to have some difficult periods and many challenges, disappointments and failures which I still considered unacceptable, but I also had many really wonderful happenings and wasn’t always waiting for the other shoe to drop. There were plenty of times that it did. I was caught off guard or betrayed or deeply hurt either because of my own doing or someone else’s.

I’ve been doing a lot of self-forgiveness and a lot of forgiving since I started the “Telling My Story Group” and I realize that we rework our memories. We see them from different perspectives. We sometimes make changes in our thoughts, our behaviors, our emotional selves and we can rework our memories. We can also do as I did for years and bury them.

Some of the memories that I like best are the ones where I have been outrageous, funny and got the reactions I wanted and the times when I felt loving and loved, sensuous and sexy, accepted and appreciated, when I was admired and agreed, and when I felt secure that I was thick skinned enough to withstand anything that comes my way. Being so prepared after 73 years of being defensive seems to have eliminated being caught off guard. When I am, I almost always can turn the situation into something humorous. I love a good laugh and usually don’t wait till I’m challenged. I especially remember when something’s funny.

© 11 March 2013

About the Author  

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities," Telling your Story"," Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio". I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

The Accident by Michael King

I’ve had so many accidents that I don’t know which single one stands out or has most affected my life. One was the first pregnancy that was unexpected and changed the course of my life. Knowing that I was to become a father guided all my decisions and thwarted opportunities but also provided some of my most rewarding experiences. Probably the other most life changing accident was getting my little finger nearly cut off.

I was working as a mold maker for fine arts bronzes and doing catering on the side. I got a call from a nurse in the lock-up psychiatric ward a St. Luke’s Hospital. It was her turn to do the annual Halloween party and she needed to do something with her mother so decided to hire me to do the party.

I had too much stuff to carry over to the hospital in the car so I borrowed a friend’s new pick-up. All went well. I was an interesting experience very different from any other as the behaviors of the patients were anything but normal. After returning home I was carrying the last load into the kitchen. Apparently the weight of my walking across the floor was enough to cause a mixing bowl to fall out of the dish rack and hit the sink breaking it into many pieces. One of the pieces wrapped around my little finger and severed the tendons and nerves. I knew I had to go to the emergency room, grabbed a towel, wrapped my hand and drove to St. Anthony’s. Blood was everywhere including on the leather seat of the pick-up. I felt myself losing consciousness and didn’t park very straight in the lot. I managed to get into the reception room dropped my billfold on the desk and fell into a seat letting the towel drop. It shot blood across the room. Almost immediately they were there to take me into ER. After about 1 ½ hours they got the bleeding to stop. I was weak and hungry. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was around 7 PM, I’m guessing. I hadn’t had a cigarette for hours.

I was going have to wait for surgery and even though I knew there were probably rules I lit up a cigarette and settled in for what became a very long wait. Of course I was told I couldn’t smoke there and I demanded they tell me where I could smoke because I sure as hell wasn’t going to go without a cigarette. This was in 1979. I was on a gurney and they rolled out into the hall where I was allowed to smoke. I’m sure that they knew that no matter what I would have gone outside or something and they had me pegged as a trouble maker and a number one asshole. Smoking in the hall would never happen today since there is absolutely no smoking in hospitals. There was no food available but at least I could smoke.

About five or more hours later I was finally taken into surgery. They tried to put up a screen so I couldn’t see the surgery but finally let me since I wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was so strange to see my arm devoid of blood and only the size of the bone. Each nerve and each tendon had to be reconnected by using magnification and miniature stitches. It took an incredible skill and was fascinating to watch.

Immediately after surgery I was taken into my room and the poor nurse’s aide was told in no uncertain terms that I was to have a steak immediately. She left the room shaking and I didn’t know if I would get food or not. It really wasn’t that long until someone else brought me a Salisbury steak. I still remember how delicious it was. I’m sure I must have felt a little guilt for having yelled, demanded and intimidated so many people, but I was also appreciative that it was over or so I thought.

My daughter was able to clean the blood off the leather seat of the pick-up. The following week was not comfortable keeping my hand above my heart and I was limited in doing anything while experiencing a great deal of pain. My mold making days were over. Catering was out of the question but I was optimistic and did the therapy and all seemed well. I had great movement with my finger as if the accident had never happened.

In December my mother-in-law came for Christmas. As I was setting up her room I lifted the night stand to move it a couple of feet when a tendon popped. I think it was Friday and since I was not in pain I decided to wait till Monday to call the doctor. I was in good spirits and figured it could be fixed. The next day I was horsing around with my son-in law when I caught my finger somehow I think on his shirt, another pop.

I was in no pain, and with the holidays we decided to schedule the next surgery in early January. We had a wonderful Christmas that year and I don’t recall being that concerned that I had no job and no plans. Somehow things would work out so I enjoyed the holidays.

The plastic surgeon wanted to do the repairs in his office. He had told me I had three options; cut the finger off, leave it dangling or redo the surgery. I felt that repairing it was the only choice. I didn’t think to question the decision to do it in his office and proceeded to have the microsurgery there only to find out that it was not covered by my insurance. If it had been in the hospital it would have been covered. Therapy was not covered either and I ended up with a crocked finger that constantly felt like it was asleep as it tingled for the next dozen or so years. I told the doctor that he would receive $25 a month for the rest of my life as I didn’t have access to the many, many thousands of dollars that I was billed for.

I had been studying The Urantia Book since 1975 and found out that they were opening a school in Boulder for students of the Urantia Book. I didn’t know how I could swing it but typed out the application with one hand and was accepted. 

That experience is among the best things that have happened in my life. If I had not had the accident I would not have gone to the Boulder School and I have no idea where my life would have gone. I found part time work and managed to graduate with the first class in 1984.

About the first week in December, 1982, I got a call from the surgeon’s office telling me that the doctor was cancelling my debt, “Merry Christmas.”

I don’t like to be superstitious and feel that it’s more that that. It’s more than coincidence, but a kind of guidance when my life has been turned upside down through happenings like the accident with my little finger which made an opening for a new direction and life changing events.

Denver, 7/22/2013

About the Author

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities," Telling your Story"," Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio". I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

House Cleaning by Michael King

I don’t clean house! I did have a housekeeper when I was working. One of the great surprises was when my last wife and I separated and I got an apartment. It took a few days for it to dawn on me that everything would be just as I left it. No one cleaned up after me. This was quite an awakening. I had never cleaned house and didn’t know how. I’m quite capable of making a mess and do so often. Merlyn keeps his apartment almost like a showroom. I wondered why it didn’t bother him more when my place would become a mess until he told me that the woman that he lived with for twenty-eight years wasn’t a very good housekeeper.

I‘m really not as bad as I used to be, I do dishes while cooking, somewhat keep the things picked up especially in the living/dining area and don’t let the bathroom get too bad. The chair in the bedroom, however, often has coats, sweaters shirts, pant, socks, etc. piled high with a few that have fallen onto the rug. I usually get that mess taken care of when I do laundry.

In the apartment building where I live the management does inspections of the fire alarms, the faucets, doors, stove, fan, plumbing and whatever is on their list. The apartment needs to be clean, so fortunately since these inspections occur every few months for one thing or another, I usually have a somewhat presentable home. It seldom takes more than 30 minutes to whip it in place except when they do the maintenance and annual inspections where they might look in the closet where I shove everything that I don’t know where else to put them. Now that is not unclean, just one hell of a mess.

Merlyn knows better than to clean up after me. He is so wise. However when it’s time to get everything up to snuff for either a major inspection or the family coming over or some special guests, he pitches in and we move the furniture to vacuum and then I dust and tidy while he helps with the bath or moping the kitchen. It doesn’t take long. With the bed made I don’t feel like I can relax in my own home. I love to prop up a half dozen pillows and lounge in the bedroom either writing, figuring, watching TV or just relaxing. The result of that messes up the whole image.

Now I know the difference between housekeeping, house cleaning and putting on a show. I only put on a show and only then when I feel I have to. I am aware I feel more comfortable when my surroundings look lived in but beautiful and with some since of order. I want everything to fit in its place, every chair at just the right angle and so on.

Now with this cleaning thing, I only use Dawn Dish Liquid to clean everything except for Windex and once in awhile Spic-n-Span. I am very sensitive to the scents used in most cleaning products. I must use a special laundry detergent or I break out with hives. With many cleansers I have breathing problems. So does Merlyn. I like a clean environment but not the smell of one. And I definitely don’t want a bad odor. I like to air out the apartment and if I want to create a pleasant aroma I’ll boil ginger or cinnamon or cook something that smells nice.

Since house cleaning is something I wish I could afford to not have to think about once I’ve properly instructed the professional on all the peculiarities I have. But I don’t have that luxury and if I did I might lose my privacy and have to wear clothing and then I’d have to hide the toys and the porn and who knows what else.

Other than absolutely necessary I don’t clean house.

© 31 March 2013

About the Author

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities," Telling your Story"," Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio". I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

Mirror Image by Michael King

Looking in the mirror and seeing the image of myself I realize that what I see and what I think I should see are quite different. I hadn’t thought that I’d ever seen anyone that I would like to look like until this weekend when it dawned on me that there was someone that I wouldn’t mind looking like. What a shock if I looked in the mirror and Ben Affleck was looking back at me.

I have mostly avoided looking at myself. I would look to see if my hair was combed. I did have hair at one time. But I really avoided looking at my face. As with much of my life I was never accepting of anything as it was. I think now I am more willing to let things just be without hoping they were different.

I’ve made a point of looking at other people to find someone that I would like to look like and never did. I began accepting myself more in the last few years and started paying more attention to what I really do look like. I’m OK with both my looks and my inner self so it almost surprised me when even though I think that Ben Affleck is really a handsome and appealing man I only thought about him staring back from the other side of my mirror when I was thinking about the topic for today’s story.

With my fairly recent self-acceptance and improved self image I wonder what a therapist or some school of psychology would make over this Ben Affleck thing. Probably some suppressed sex thing. Instead of looking into a pool to fall in love with my reflection, all I have to do is get a photo, paste it on my mirror and pretend my mirror image is there.

I won’t do that. I’ll probably just see my own reflection and be glad that I’m not anyone else and let it go at that.

© 18 March 2013

About the Author

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities," Telling your Story"," Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio". I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

A Visit to the Doctor and Nurse by Michael King

I think the first time I had a severe swelling reaction was in Duluth in 1964. I woke up one morning and my face was so swollen that I couldn’t open my eyes. After a few hours the swelling subsided enough for me to go to the base medical clinic. No one knew what it was, why it was and nothing was done. The swelling went down and the mystery was unsolved.

I’m not sure how many times I had these swelling occurrences but they were always in a different part of the body.

The last one was the most dramatic. I woke up with a terrible need to urinate, a greater need than at any other time in my life. I was in terrible pain and unable to pee. My wife drove me to the emergency room. I remember the doctor stated that it was unusual for this to happen to someone so young. I was around 37 I think. My urinary track was swollen shut and my bladder was close to bursting. In another hour or so it would have. The doctor thought at first that it was an enlarged prostrate. It wasn’t. I had never had a catheter and felt totally violated as it was being inserted. The nurse appeared in front of me with a bucket and when the tube finally entered the bladder the force of the urine was too much for her bucket. It was knocked out of her hands. She was doused from head to toe and the wall and door across the room was generously sprayed.

I had to use the catheter for some days until the swelling totally subsided. The doctor was concerned that next time it could be my heart or at least a more serious place if and when I would have another swelling episode. He had no idea as to the cause.

As I have done in the past I pulled a Jimmy Carter and sat in a chair in the living room and declared that I wasn’t going to move till I had an answer as to the cause of these swelling episodes. Jimmy Carter did something similar with the Rose Garden during the Iranian hostage crisis. Almost instantly I had an answer. A memory of my ear swelling some years before when I wore a cheap earring popped into my consciousness. It was nickel plated. Therefore I must have an allergy to nickel. My dermatologist said there was no such thing as a metal allergy. I knew better and since then the medical profession acknowledges and treats metal allergies.

I eliminated all aluminum cookware, foil and used only glass, iron and stainless steel cookware, avoided restaurant food (they cook in aluminum almost exclusively). There is often nickel in aluminum products. The amount varies as aluminum is often recycled. I have not had a swelling episode since.

There were many other times I ended up in emergency rooms, but I think seeing that nurse get doused is one of my most vivid memories when it comes to a visit to a doctor and a nurse.

© 24 May 2013

About the Author

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities," Telling your Story"," Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio". I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

Hospitality by Michael King

It seems that hospitality is more a commercial term than the cultured warmth and friendliness that one offers their guests. When I was young, maybe 8 or so, I imagined a world so very different than the one I felt I was stuck with. I wanted to live where there was charm, beauty, elegance, love, grace and happiness. I imagined that the surroundings should be comfortable yet exquisite. I had not been exposed to anything like what I pictured but felt that I didn’t belong where I was which had none of the qualities I felt should exist. I remember thinking that the little town of Nashville, Kansas was ugly and the people including my family were ignorant, crude and had no class. It seemed that somewhere there should be a place that was beautiful. When we moved to Truth or Consequences, New Mexico I had hopes that it might be more attractive and there the people would be more civilized; it wasn’t. I never felt comfortable or trusting in those days. Finally when I went to college I got a few glimpses of the environment that I craved. I also experienced times when those hosting an event created the warmth and comfort and elegance that I came to associate with my definition of hospitality.

Many times over the years I tried to create that feeling when guest attended the many parties we had. I loved having people come over and have an enjoyable time with food and conversation in an attractive and comfortable environment. I tried to make the setting as beautiful as possible. I wanted to make each event as much like my fantasy of my childhood. I wanted to create the hospitality that I felt should exist.

I have experienced on many occasions that kind of unpretentious and sincere hospitality and I have also been where it existed because people pay for it. I really enjoyed the dinners aboard cruise ships. A few times I have attended formal dress up events that were very well done where there was that genuine hospitable environment. Some included weddings, dining at upscale restaurants with friends, holiday parties and a few social events. More often it seems that I have had that feeling at casual parties, pot lucks and outings where either the hosts or the staff obviously enjoys making the situation smooth, comfortable and pleasant.

Finally after almost a lifetime I live in the manner that I so craved when I was little and I am around people who are warm and sincere as well as relaxed being who they are and are at home both giving and receiving hospitality. I experience an acceptance and feel more at home in my relatively newer gay environment than I did in the straight world. My world has more beauty and elegance, warmth and friendliness, happiness and joy, love and kindness, peace and comfort and hospitality than I could have imagined when I was 8 or so or even at 68 or so, And if I won the lottery I could throw a few parties where I could pay professionals to help create some of my fantasies and I could travel where hospitality is included in the package, etc., etc., etc. In the meantime I’m just happy to be living the life I have where everything is perfect.

July 28, 2013

About the Author

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities: "Telling your Story," "Men's Coffee," and the "Open Art Studio." I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

Coming Out Spiritually by Michael King

As I reflect on this topic it seems to mirror in many ways the slow and meandering journey of discovering the gay part of me and eventually becoming a gay activist.

I didn’t understand the differences between religious, spiritual, etc. I now have my own definitions however prefer to avoid the various terms. People state that they are non-denominational, new age, protestant, Buddhist, Hindu, Jewish, and the list goes on.

I’ve not felt comfortable with any of those labels. Faiths, creeds and rituals may be a part of being religious but I don’t think of them as being spiritual. There are, I am sure, those who are very much in touch spiritually and still participate in religious practices.

My family seldom attended church or even mentioned anything religious and fortunately left the whole arena fairly free of doctrines, duties, biblical teachings, fear, or guilt. I was grown and away from home by the time I encountered a vague concept of the term spiritual.

I did have an experience, the first of many, that has affected my perspective that I will call spiritual. I had the same name as my grandfather. I have since change my name. The family was present and I stood back by the door when he took his last breath. I was 15 and as far as I know no one else saw what I did. I was very calm and detatched. I had a sense that everything was OK. He and I seemed to have an understanding. I was an observer, and at the same time as I heard the death rattle, a shiny golden orb jumped from his head, wavered, and then quickly departed through the wall behind and to the side of the bed. I had the assurance that some kind of future followed this life.

I tried to identify with many belief systems over the years but couldn’t accept any until after the transforming experience I had when I made the decision to divorce my first wife and remove the children from their mother’s influence. I clearly stated to her, “I don’t give a shit about you or about myself. I’m going to do what is best for the children!” An experience of being in the future in the presence of what I have called a being of light and pure love followed. I’ll not go into further detail but my life changed forever.

I looked for information about my vision as that is what I think it was. I read and studied, attended lectures and workshops, read the Bible from cover to cover and most if not all the writings that were not included in the versions most often accepted. I explored eastern teachings, metaphysical writings and any other potential source hoping to find a better understanding of my experience.

I’ve since forgotten most of what all I studied because I didn’t find the answers I was looking for until one day after we moved to Denver. I was on my way to a bookstore to purchase some books that might have some answers when a voice directed me to buy a particular book. I recognized the voice but that’s another story.

I will say that I not only got the answers to the questions but I also received an expanded perspective far beyond anything I might have imagined. Experientially I am gaining in an understanding and have progressed in some levels of maturity.

When did I come out? That is probably the part that is most humorous. Every time I had an insight or learned something that I thought was profound I tried to share it with those around me. Mistake!!! No one was interested. Everyone has found what they want or have a prescribed approach they plan to take to get their answers. I came out so many times and was ignored just like when I came out gay. Everyone already knew it and some told me they were waiting for me to figure it out.

Among the blessings I have are the love I have from my family and close friends and some that aren’t so close, my rich inner life and the many insights, visions and personal revelations that have formed my present self. I have great appreciation for these blessings.

So long as there is consciousness, expanded awarenesses and new expressions of a spiritual nature can continue to enrichen our lives. I don’t think that coming out spiritually will ever stop.

July 1, 2013

About the Author

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities," Telling your Story"," Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio". I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

Facts by Michael King

I am more aware of my memory than when I was younger. I have become increasingly conscious of how the things remembered are isolated pieces of time, interaction, momentous events, strong emotions and other seemingly significant events in my past. Sometimes I will recall something of no particular importance with any particular feeling attached. It is from this awareness that I approach the topic for Monday, “Facts.”

It is my understanding that in a trial there may be numerous witnesses that observed a crime. Without coordination they may tell very different stories about the event. There is no reason to question their honesty, but what are the facts? Facts seem to be an elusive kind of reasonable makes-sense explanation regarding any given situation. It seems the mind will interpret experience in a way that seems plausible. If that is the case then facts are something that seems to be the most probable rather than the actual reality.

In “Telling my Story” I am usually aware that my memories are the perceptions that I now have of people and events in contrast to how I might have perceived those memories 25 years ago, 50 years ago, 70 years ago or even yesterday. What are the facts? Usually the date, the people, the place and the event are factual. Then are the particulars as to the surroundings. And becoming more vague would be the probable small details if recalled at all and then in the interpretation of the facts are the more distortive emotions and feelings. All these factors contribute to the probable facts related to any situation.

It amazes me that there are people that will respond to a question with the word “absolutely.” Either they are conning someone, trying to sell something or are unaware of how ludicrous their comment is. I’m convinced that being factual is not very important to some people and not particularly expected. There are many examples where people aren’t even aware of their distortions or perhaps don’t care if there is accuracy in either their thoughts or comments.

My conclusion is that to be factual is variable to the persons, events, memories, observations and philosophies. Perhaps more factual would be scientific evidence. Even then there is much room for interpretation. That is a fact.

Now, after that disclaimer, I’ll share a few facts about me. I am a 73 year old male humanoid mortal living on my planet of nativity. I was twice wed and divorced, fathered four children and am the grandfather of two men and a woman and two very young granddaughters. I live in Denver, Colorado with my partner Merlyn. I am an active openly gay eccentric who wears ear bobs, sports tattoos and piercings and has fairly colorful wardrobe. I paint and do sculpture, write stories for “Story Time,” help set up for the Prime Timers’ “Nooners,” volunteer at the GLBT Center, go antiquing and visit thrift stores, cook, eat, drink vodka, go to plays, stage performances, ballet and opera, exercise at the Y, walk, ride the bus and Merlyn’s Suburban, watch movies, porn and TV, talk to my family and sometimes get together with them, And then there are those other facts that shall go unsaid.

© 23 March 2013

About the Author

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities," Telling your Story"," Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio". I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.

Memorials by Michael King

My first memory of a memorial was when I was four or five. In rural Kansas there would be a fenced area with trees on the side if the road surrounded by wheat fields. Sometimes headstones could be seen. The one I remember was overgrown with tall grass and weeds when we arrived on Memorial Day.

It was the custom for families of those buried there to come, clean away the weeds, cut the grass and place flowers from their flower gardens on the graves of their relatives.

It was a beautiful day and I was unhappy to have to stay in the car while my parents and older sister were outside working on making the graves nice and neat. The reason I had to stay in the car other than insuring that I stayed out of the way was that I had asthma and my parents tried to avoid anything that might cause an attack. I’m sure that included an excuse to prevent me from running around like a normal boy of my age. I felt fine.

I looked out and noticed a child’s grave next to the car. It was a much smaller area covered with tall grasses and weeds. Since no one was there to properly groom the area I felt sorry that no one cared and wanted to do something about this sad situation.

I lowered the car window and got my sister’s attention, explained my concern, and convinced her to trim the grass. She got a sickle and was busy swinging it back and forth cutting the grass when I managed to open the car door and got out to watch. I got too close and on a back swing the sickle caught the skin along my eyebrows and tore it to about the center of my scalp.

Dr. Whalan in our little town had reattached my thumb when my father cut it off when I was two. I had stuck my hand out to touch the pretty blade he was potting in the mowing machine. Dr. Whalan later treated me when I was bitten by a spider and was in a coma for days. Now after I got scalped he gently worked the scalp and forehead skin back in place and told my parents that it would heal with less scaring without stitches. He was very skillful in that regard and over the years treated numerous face wounds that would have left me with some horrible scars. Most of the scars I have hardly show for which I can thank the country doctor.

After that first experience having to do with Memorials and Memorial Days I recall many: the poppies representing Flanders’ Field, many funerals, watching the laying of wreaths, standing by friends as they watched their loved ones being placed in a crypt or in the ground, and more recently when funerals have become celebrations of the lives of our friends.

The following is what I read at Bobby Gates Memorial celebration.

After I retired I found myself with no particular activities, no friends, as most were from work or lived far away, and I didn’t even have a plan or a direction. I attended the PrideFest and was given a card about the Prime Timers luncheon. I went and began my first association with a gay community. Bobby was the president of Prime Timers. Among the many things that he sponsored was the “Coffee Tyme” at Panera’s. Soon we became friends and when Bobby found out that I was almost totally un-knowledgeable in practically everything, he became my mentor. Of course at the time I wasn’t that aware, but looking back practically everything I found out, every activity I got involved in and most everyone I met had a connection to Bobby. I think he had been that way with many, many others. He organized activities, coordinated events and invited participation and friendship, thoughtfully sent birthday cards, etc., etc.

For me he introduced me to many restaurants, always surprised that I had never been to any of them. He introduced me to Front Rangers. He introduced me to movies. He was one in the coffee group that introduced me to the Denver Church and Jim Chandler. And he introduced me to my partner, Merlyn. Often he’d call me about an activity and asked if I needed a ride. I can’t imagine how my life would have been without Bobby.

I honor one of the most compassionate, thoughtful, and generous friends anyone could ever have. I feel that I have truly been blessed by his friendship, his kindness, his nurturing, and the love that he bestowed on everyone.

Even though Bobby didn’t have financial wealth, a couple of weeks ago Bobby’s son Marc and I were talking about how rich Bobby was in friendships, activities, experiences, and attitude.

I expect that we’ll meet again and that our friendship will continue. In the meantime I will continue to be thankful for the many ways he touched my life and continues to be an inspiration and an influence

I give thanks for Bobby

© 28 January 2013

About the Author

I go by the drag name, Queen Anne Tique. My real name is Michael King. I am a gay activist who finally came out of the closet at age 70. I live with my lover, Merlyn, in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was married twice, have 3 daughters, 5 grandchildren and a great grandson. Besides volunteering at the GLBT Center and doing the SAGE activities," Telling your Story"," Men's Coffee" and the "Open Art Studio". I am active in Prime Timers and Front Rangers. I now get to do many of the activities that I had hoped to do when I retired; traveling, writing, painting, doing sculpture, cooking and drag.