What do you do on Memorial Day. Do you observe it as was intended,to honor all those that died in all the wars? Probably not, most of us don’t. It is still a special day for putting flowers on the graves of family members. A day for honoring the dead. A pretty serious subject.
I have a special place in life for Memorial Day. In 1958 on a Memorial Day I met my best friend in life, Kaye Dickie. She was a beloved friend for over 39 years. Why write about a dead friend,well why not? Some people are just worth talking about.
I am not as interested in telling you about her death. (all though she did die next to her swimming pool reading a book and she would think that would be a wonderful way to go. She was an avid reader and swimmer.) I want to tell more about her living. Kaye lived a life filled with love,joy,and a quick wit that would leave you hysterical with laughter.
Kaye was mildly deaf when I first met her. After having surgery to correct her hearing it lasted for sometime but in later years she became profoundly deaf. It never slowed her humor or her zest for doing what she wanted to do.
She had a Master’s Degree in elementary education,she was an outstanding teacher,a gifted musician, a golfer and a terrific letter writer. Her wonderful humor overflowed into everything she did. I received a letter from her the day before she died.
Kaye and I were both raised in homes where reading was taught to be the most important thing we could do. We both loved to read. We began playing a game game 39 years ago during the time of diapers and baby talk while we were raising our children. We continued to play it every time we saw each other. We would take play pens, beach blankets, picnic lunches to
Fontana Beach on beautiful Lake Geneva, Wi.
It began this way: We were going to be sent to a tropical island and we each could only take three books. What would they be?
We both agreed we would each take a Bible,Gone with the Wind and etc.
Over the years we picked different books,except for the Bible. That remained a constant with both of us.
Then we expanded to five books each and finally seven. (We both needed blank books so we could write.) As we grew older the game became sillier and we both loved it. Somehow it was a fine thread to our youth. When we saw each other every week or so we only thought of it occasionally. In later years we were a 1000 miles apart. Now we only saw each other two or three times a year so now it became a silly secret of ours.
Our conversations would be come wonderfully outlandish:
“Do you know how to fish?”
”No, do you?”
“Don’t you think we should take a book on fishing?”
Well I'm not giving up my copy of James Michner’s Hawaii for a book on fishing?”
“OK,I hope you don't mind climbing trees to gather coconuts.”
“We’ve got palm trees on our island? Nobody told me about that.”
On and on it went. Kaye loved puns so on our make believe calendar we changed our monday to Punday--we could only speak in puns on this day. Thursday was the day for building sand castles. We had to get away from reading sometime. As we had these absurd conversations we would laugh like children.
Over the years our love and laughter for each other never changed. We always ended our phone calls and our letters with “”I love you.” When we greeted each other twice a year we would hug and kiss and say,”I love you sooooooo much.” This was standard greeting for our children when they were little.
Our two families have been tied together by love for since 1958. Our children grew up loving each other. Our sons have camped and hiked all and white water rafted all over Colorado parts of Wyoming. Our daughters live 1000 miles apart and always take up right where they left off.
I shall always treasure the day I spent with Kaye in 1996. She rode with me out into East Weld as I called some clients. I took her to Roggen and introduce her to writer Elfy Dornan. I bought her Elfy’s book Prairie Winds.” I teased her about being afraid to be caught anywhere with out a book. As we traveled over the plains we talked and talked. That night we talked until 3 a.m. in the morning catching upon our tropical island and our books. That was the last day I saw her.
Memorial Day. I will always be a day to remember Dear Kaye for the love,joy and the goodness of a woman who knew no bounds. We shared many secrets and she took the most important one in my life she took to her grave. She never revealed my homosexuality to anyone. In the early days when I told her I ask her to please not tell anyone because of my children. She never did. When her husband visited me last spring I asked him and he said she had never mentioned it to him. She adored her husband and he swears she never said a word about it. How many times can you find anyone in your life that can keep a secret? What a woman!
Oh, Kaye if you are on our tropical island on the other side,keep your hands off my books until I get there! I still love you sooooo much.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
MY HOW TIMES HAVE CHANGED
When Lady Love and I moved back to Greeley she was particularly looking for a church--you know one that would accept gays. She found the the Unitarian Church here and she had been a life long member in Kalamazoo.
Greeley's UU Church is a wonderful diverse group of people and we felt at home there.We joined and we became involved in the Book club and over the years several study groups. We studied the Jefferson Bible in 2007 andin my this resulted in giving this report to our congregation:
I would like to quote from one of Thomas Jefferson's letters-----------
“It is in our lives and not our words that our religion must be read.”
I was 22 years old and living in Georgia when my friend Bailey Jones first told me about the Jefferson Bible. He was a retired history teacher and he loved Thomas Jefferson. He would go on and on about Jefferson and his bible. Bailey Jones was a highly respected Baptist and a wonderful story teller. But Bailey Jones was also a flaming alcoholic and I took everything he said with with great reservation. We had many long talks about many subjects. Bailey had a wonderful mind.
Bailey had a stroke 6 months later and died. His wife ask me to paint a scene of the River Jordan in the baptistry of the new baptist church in his memory. I submitted a canvas for approval with three other artists and mine was accepted. I spent the next 3 months working in the baptistry.
When our Chosen Faith class mentioned the Jefferson Bible---I was all for it. I hadn’t thought of Bailey Jones and his Jefferson Bible in years. I would finally after 50 some years get to read it.
When I was asked to think about what we would like to report on from our Chosen Faith Class, I chose Jefferson Bible. I was very interested in studying and discussing this book. But when we began reading I found that I was much more interested in the history of the”why and wherefore” of its origination.
As a young man Jefferson had been greatly influenced by the philosophical writings of Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbrooke. His religious skepticism was engaging to Jefferson and it prompted him to record passages from Bolingbrooke's writings into Jefferson’ s “ Literary Bible”,which was composed during the 1760’s and1770’s.
In 1798-1799 Jefferson wrote of of “several delightful conversations” with Dr. Benjamin Rush, a well respected scientist and outspoken Universalist. Their conversations were often of Christianity and Jefferson told Rush he would write down his views on the subject. Dr. Rush over the years continued to remind Jefferson of his promise.
In 1800 politics was rearing its ugly head. Jefferson was then standing as a candidate for the presidency. There were those who were already reviling him as an infidel too impious to be president.
The following spring a triumphant Jefferson wrote,”Our countrymen have recovered from the alarm which art and industry had thrown them ; science and honesty are replaced on their high ground and you,my dear Sir, as their great apostle, are on its pinnacle.” This”great apostle” was Dr. Joseph Priestley, prominent scientist and Unitarian theologian.
Dr. Benjamin Rush and Dr. Joseph Priestly, helped reestablish Christianity for the reasonable and enlightened such as Jefferson. Rush was an ardent champion of theological openness. Priestly had determined that much of Christian doctrine was either defiant of or unnecessary to the Christian message and therefore not only obscured, but distance from the lives of many persons who had neither the time nor the means to investigate it.
Thomas Jefferson thought of Jesus as eloquent,benevolent,innocent, a victim first of the Roman state and then of the Christian Church.
In a statement of his faith,Jefferson wrote to Rush, I quote “I am a Christian,in the only sense he wished anyone to be; sincerely attached to his doctrines, in preference to all others;ascribing to himself every human excellence : and believing he never claimed any other”.
Jefferson’s quest-- I would call it began with passion in 1798. He finish the Gospels in 1820 at the age of 77. They had been sitting on his shelf for a decade and a half.
So this was the why and the wherefore. I feel that Jefferson believed he was creating a concise book that would be for Christian and non-Christian and would reach those seeking a good and moral life. He wanted to create and a real human Jesus. A reader’s digest version.
Do I think he did that? Yes, but I believe he looked upon it as something he must finish. But after all this was Jefferson and I am happy he did give us the Jefferson Bible at age 77!
For me studying the Jefferson Bible was something else. I will cherish it because it reminded me of an old storyteller that walked into my young life in a strange and wonderful way and returned again when I was an old woman.
Greeley's UU Church is a wonderful diverse group of people and we felt at home there.We joined and we became involved in the Book club and over the years several study groups. We studied the Jefferson Bible in 2007 andin my this resulted in giving this report to our congregation:
I would like to quote from one of Thomas Jefferson's letters-----------
“It is in our lives and not our words that our religion must be read.”
I was 22 years old and living in Georgia when my friend Bailey Jones first told me about the Jefferson Bible. He was a retired history teacher and he loved Thomas Jefferson. He would go on and on about Jefferson and his bible. Bailey Jones was a highly respected Baptist and a wonderful story teller. But Bailey Jones was also a flaming alcoholic and I took everything he said with with great reservation. We had many long talks about many subjects. Bailey had a wonderful mind.
Bailey had a stroke 6 months later and died. His wife ask me to paint a scene of the River Jordan in the baptistry of the new baptist church in his memory. I submitted a canvas for approval with three other artists and mine was accepted. I spent the next 3 months working in the baptistry.
When our Chosen Faith class mentioned the Jefferson Bible---I was all for it. I hadn’t thought of Bailey Jones and his Jefferson Bible in years. I would finally after 50 some years get to read it.
When I was asked to think about what we would like to report on from our Chosen Faith Class, I chose Jefferson Bible. I was very interested in studying and discussing this book. But when we began reading I found that I was much more interested in the history of the”why and wherefore” of its origination.
As a young man Jefferson had been greatly influenced by the philosophical writings of Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbrooke. His religious skepticism was engaging to Jefferson and it prompted him to record passages from Bolingbrooke's writings into Jefferson’ s “ Literary Bible”,which was composed during the 1760’s and1770’s.
In 1798-1799 Jefferson wrote of of “several delightful conversations” with Dr. Benjamin Rush, a well respected scientist and outspoken Universalist. Their conversations were often of Christianity and Jefferson told Rush he would write down his views on the subject. Dr. Rush over the years continued to remind Jefferson of his promise.
In 1800 politics was rearing its ugly head. Jefferson was then standing as a candidate for the presidency. There were those who were already reviling him as an infidel too impious to be president.
The following spring a triumphant Jefferson wrote,”Our countrymen have recovered from the alarm which art and industry had thrown them ; science and honesty are replaced on their high ground and you,my dear Sir, as their great apostle, are on its pinnacle.” This”great apostle” was Dr. Joseph Priestley, prominent scientist and Unitarian theologian.
Dr. Benjamin Rush and Dr. Joseph Priestly, helped reestablish Christianity for the reasonable and enlightened such as Jefferson. Rush was an ardent champion of theological openness. Priestly had determined that much of Christian doctrine was either defiant of or unnecessary to the Christian message and therefore not only obscured, but distance from the lives of many persons who had neither the time nor the means to investigate it.
Thomas Jefferson thought of Jesus as eloquent,benevolent,innocent, a victim first of the Roman state and then of the Christian Church.
In a statement of his faith,Jefferson wrote to Rush, I quote “I am a Christian,in the only sense he wished anyone to be; sincerely attached to his doctrines, in preference to all others;ascribing to himself every human excellence : and believing he never claimed any other”.
Jefferson’s quest-- I would call it began with passion in 1798. He finish the Gospels in 1820 at the age of 77. They had been sitting on his shelf for a decade and a half.
So this was the why and the wherefore. I feel that Jefferson believed he was creating a concise book that would be for Christian and non-Christian and would reach those seeking a good and moral life. He wanted to create and a real human Jesus. A reader’s digest version.
Do I think he did that? Yes, but I believe he looked upon it as something he must finish. But after all this was Jefferson and I am happy he did give us the Jefferson Bible at age 77!
For me studying the Jefferson Bible was something else. I will cherish it because it reminded me of an old storyteller that walked into my young life in a strange and wonderful way and returned again when I was an old woman.
Friday, January 9, 2009
WHAT DO YOU SAY WHEN YOUR GRAN IS GAY?
Grandaughters:
What do you say when you find out your Grannie is Gay?
Do you say that she is happy and glad?
We didn’t find out what Grannies was about
until she left our Grand Dad
There were whispers and talk about the reason she came “out”
She was in the “closet”, they say
We overheard all this stuff
And as if this isn’t enough
No one will tell us what it means to be gay
Grannie said:
It means your expression of love can be free
to love some one of the same sex ---in my case a SHE
Or a gay man would prefer to love a HE
It is about love and choosing the right one for you,do you see?
Granddaughters:
It makes sense to me. Shouldn’t we all be free
to love any one we choose? But will you explain to us about
what it means to be in the “closet” and “out”
These sounds kind of strange to me?
Grannie said:
In the “closet” means you are afraid to come “out”
to tell anyone you are gay
You hide in fear and are consumed with doubt
What if family and friends turn you away?
So you stay in your “closet” afraid to come “out”
Do You understand what I mean?
Remember during a storm when thunder was about
You put your hands over your eyes so the lighting couldn’t be seen.
Now the thunder was there, the lighting was, too
Truly everything was the same
And hiding your eyes seemed a safe thing to do
But it was just a kind of a game
Covering your eyes you were safe and private
Do you see what this is about?
Covering your eyes was a kind of a “closet “
When you uncovered your eyes --you came “out”
Grandaughters:
Gran, all your life you hid that you were gay
I think that this was bad
That means you were in a “closet” for all those years
That’s like being in jail.How sad.
Grannie said:
Yes Dears, sometimes it was hard to bear
Because I could never be me
and truly there were times I didn’t care
what life did with me.
I knew I was “different when I was nine
By age 13, I told my Mother. She said,
Don’t you ever mention this again.
“You’ll get over it. It’s all in your head!”
I never mentioned “it” again
I never got over ‘it”
I married a man.
(Ffity some years later--I’m still not over “it”
But then I had babies. they filled my heart with joy
I loved raising children;they were work and fun
Sand boxes,swings,playhouses,every little toy;
They helped me get through life on the run
I ran through life in a frenzy,being “Best” at what I did
I never stopped running from the real me
I am gay, then and now who did I think I could kid?
So many times I wanted to scream”I am gay, this is me ,this is me”
But I didn’t.I acted like everything in my life was ok
I deceived friends, family and children
All the while running away, running away
Down deep inside me to my isolation
I hated my total deception. It went against everything I hold dear
I said,”I have no secrets.” What a bad thing to say.
I believe your Grandad knew and perhaps it was his fear
That I had been unfaithful and that I was gay
When I met and fell in love with a woman I had dreamed about
I knew I could no longer hide
There was no doubt in my mind that I was coming”out”
I absolutely must be true to myself before I died
This woman freed me in a way only a gay person can understand.
She gave the courage, the love and a way
And I want you to please understand
There is nothing wrong with being gay
So I went to your Granddad and told him everything
Through his anger,his disappointment and tears
He found courage to say something:
“This explains so much about you for all these years.”
He knew I had been running.
I thank your Grandad for his graciousness;
I had made him unhappy,too.
Then I went to your Mother and I told her I was gay
She said,”I never knew what it was, but I knew there was a secret unshared.”
I told her I would divorce your Grandad
I knew how deeply she cared.
But she never wavered a moment.
She looked at me straight and so true
She said,” I love you,Mom and I support you in what ever
you need to do for YOU.
Then I went to your Uncle Jeff. I told him I was gay
He too looked at me straight and true
He said ,”Mom you have been the greatest example in my life
You must do what is right for you.” He told me that he loved me.
You have to know how important this was to me
I heaved a sigh of relief and it was true
My children told me they loved me
As though what I had revealed was nothing new
.
All my life I had respected them as individuals
I basked in the love they gave me
I knew their response was the residual
of the relationship they saved for me.
Their love and support was all around
As I went to my computer to write my brother
I chose my words carefully and found
Here was a burden like no other
I pushed on as best I could explaining
Why I needed to finally come”out”
I realized the pit of my stomach was paining
And my mind was filled with doubt
His army life and church had hardened his heart agsainst gays
He used words like,”homos,fags,queers,” to me
when he tried to talk about ‘their” rights and “their” ways
I refused to be drawn into hate against people like me.
I didn’t know how I could change his mind
Perhaps his love for me would enter
And in his heart he would find
Understanding and compassion for me at the center
But no. My brother never called me and he never wrote
And he hates me for being gay
I will probably never see or speak to him again.
He chooses it to be this way.
He simply cannot understand why and how
I lived my life as a kid
And never let anyone know
That I was different--but I did---No one listened.
I wanted my brother to listen. He did not.
Who would choose to be gay?
He thinks gay is a choice.It is not.
It is painful and frightening and it never goes away.
His wife speaks of “family values” and yet
They cannot bring themselves to speak to me,
family,a sister, who is no longer set
in the mold of what they think she should be
.
And would I do it again?
YES,YES, I love being “out”.
It was frightening in that “closet”, hidden away
with my fears ,my pain, and my doubt.
I know without O’Neils love and support
I would never be free
to say,”I’m a different sort
I’m gay,I’m free,I’m me!”
When I think of her gift to me
And I think of it each day
I know were in each other’s life
In a very special way.
Thank you, O”Neil.
I fought being gay and myself for 50 years.
Yes, I risked everything to be able to admit I was gay.
I lost my closet and fifty pounds. You see,
there was no need for me to be eating away
at what was eating at me.
Grandaughter:
Is it true what they say about women that are gay
That they really can live without men?
Women that love women know another way
To make love ,to make love without men?
Oh,Yes my Dears it is true
What they say about women that are gay
They are definitely happy and glad
Women love to make love with a woman they love
They are very happy, not sad.
So what do you say about Grannie being gay?
You say she is happy and glad
Grannie loves women and she always wlll
And she was true to herself in every way
---Finally!
My Dears,always be true to yourself. I love you.
As ever,
Gran
What do you say when you find out your Grannie is Gay?
Do you say that she is happy and glad?
We didn’t find out what Grannies was about
until she left our Grand Dad
There were whispers and talk about the reason she came “out”
She was in the “closet”, they say
We overheard all this stuff
And as if this isn’t enough
No one will tell us what it means to be gay
Grannie said:
It means your expression of love can be free
to love some one of the same sex ---in my case a SHE
Or a gay man would prefer to love a HE
It is about love and choosing the right one for you,do you see?
Granddaughters:
It makes sense to me. Shouldn’t we all be free
to love any one we choose? But will you explain to us about
what it means to be in the “closet” and “out”
These sounds kind of strange to me?
Grannie said:
In the “closet” means you are afraid to come “out”
to tell anyone you are gay
You hide in fear and are consumed with doubt
What if family and friends turn you away?
So you stay in your “closet” afraid to come “out”
Do You understand what I mean?
Remember during a storm when thunder was about
You put your hands over your eyes so the lighting couldn’t be seen.
Now the thunder was there, the lighting was, too
Truly everything was the same
And hiding your eyes seemed a safe thing to do
But it was just a kind of a game
Covering your eyes you were safe and private
Do you see what this is about?
Covering your eyes was a kind of a “closet “
When you uncovered your eyes --you came “out”
Grandaughters:
Gran, all your life you hid that you were gay
I think that this was bad
That means you were in a “closet” for all those years
That’s like being in jail.How sad.
Grannie said:
Yes Dears, sometimes it was hard to bear
Because I could never be me
and truly there were times I didn’t care
what life did with me.
I knew I was “different when I was nine
By age 13, I told my Mother. She said,
Don’t you ever mention this again.
“You’ll get over it. It’s all in your head!”
I never mentioned “it” again
I never got over ‘it”
I married a man.
(Ffity some years later--I’m still not over “it”
But then I had babies. they filled my heart with joy
I loved raising children;they were work and fun
Sand boxes,swings,playhouses,every little toy;
They helped me get through life on the run
I ran through life in a frenzy,being “Best” at what I did
I never stopped running from the real me
I am gay, then and now who did I think I could kid?
So many times I wanted to scream”I am gay, this is me ,this is me”
But I didn’t.I acted like everything in my life was ok
I deceived friends, family and children
All the while running away, running away
Down deep inside me to my isolation
I hated my total deception. It went against everything I hold dear
I said,”I have no secrets.” What a bad thing to say.
I believe your Grandad knew and perhaps it was his fear
That I had been unfaithful and that I was gay
When I met and fell in love with a woman I had dreamed about
I knew I could no longer hide
There was no doubt in my mind that I was coming”out”
I absolutely must be true to myself before I died
This woman freed me in a way only a gay person can understand.
She gave the courage, the love and a way
And I want you to please understand
There is nothing wrong with being gay
So I went to your Granddad and told him everything
Through his anger,his disappointment and tears
He found courage to say something:
“This explains so much about you for all these years.”
He knew I had been running.
I thank your Grandad for his graciousness;
I had made him unhappy,too.
Then I went to your Mother and I told her I was gay
She said,”I never knew what it was, but I knew there was a secret unshared.”
I told her I would divorce your Grandad
I knew how deeply she cared.
But she never wavered a moment.
She looked at me straight and so true
She said,” I love you,Mom and I support you in what ever
you need to do for YOU.
Then I went to your Uncle Jeff. I told him I was gay
He too looked at me straight and true
He said ,”Mom you have been the greatest example in my life
You must do what is right for you.” He told me that he loved me.
You have to know how important this was to me
I heaved a sigh of relief and it was true
My children told me they loved me
As though what I had revealed was nothing new
.
All my life I had respected them as individuals
I basked in the love they gave me
I knew their response was the residual
of the relationship they saved for me.
Their love and support was all around
As I went to my computer to write my brother
I chose my words carefully and found
Here was a burden like no other
I pushed on as best I could explaining
Why I needed to finally come”out”
I realized the pit of my stomach was paining
And my mind was filled with doubt
His army life and church had hardened his heart agsainst gays
He used words like,”homos,fags,queers,” to me
when he tried to talk about ‘their” rights and “their” ways
I refused to be drawn into hate against people like me.
I didn’t know how I could change his mind
Perhaps his love for me would enter
And in his heart he would find
Understanding and compassion for me at the center
But no. My brother never called me and he never wrote
And he hates me for being gay
I will probably never see or speak to him again.
He chooses it to be this way.
He simply cannot understand why and how
I lived my life as a kid
And never let anyone know
That I was different--but I did---No one listened.
I wanted my brother to listen. He did not.
Who would choose to be gay?
He thinks gay is a choice.It is not.
It is painful and frightening and it never goes away.
His wife speaks of “family values” and yet
They cannot bring themselves to speak to me,
family,a sister, who is no longer set
in the mold of what they think she should be
.
And would I do it again?
YES,YES, I love being “out”.
It was frightening in that “closet”, hidden away
with my fears ,my pain, and my doubt.
I know without O’Neils love and support
I would never be free
to say,”I’m a different sort
I’m gay,I’m free,I’m me!”
When I think of her gift to me
And I think of it each day
I know were in each other’s life
In a very special way.
Thank you, O”Neil.
I fought being gay and myself for 50 years.
Yes, I risked everything to be able to admit I was gay.
I lost my closet and fifty pounds. You see,
there was no need for me to be eating away
at what was eating at me.
Grandaughter:
Is it true what they say about women that are gay
That they really can live without men?
Women that love women know another way
To make love ,to make love without men?
Oh,Yes my Dears it is true
What they say about women that are gay
They are definitely happy and glad
Women love to make love with a woman they love
They are very happy, not sad.
So what do you say about Grannie being gay?
You say she is happy and glad
Grannie loves women and she always wlll
And she was true to herself in every way
---Finally!
My Dears,always be true to yourself. I love you.
As ever,
Gran
Friday, December 5, 2008
THE WIND AND I
I always loved the wind and wondered what it was about.
There was and still is a kind of enchantment for me when I see leaves dance with skittering delight across the horizon. And I hear music when I see tumble weeds join in a kind of natural chorus line. They eventually succumb to the wind and are forced to fall out of step with their group.
I now know that I am a tumbleweed that was forced to be a part of a social chorus line. Because I finally succumbed to a brisk wind in my life, I fell out of step with my group and became what I have known that I was since I was thirteen--I am and have always been a lesbian.
Growing up in the 40's was not conducive to think or speak about homosexuality. During this period there was a term for homosexuals and when I heard it in my home they were referred to as "god damn queers”!!! "Sex " was such a forbidden word that I can never remember saying it until I was in high school.
As I began to realize about my own sexuality, I knew that I must never let this secret out and it needed to be buried deeply. After all, I could not and would not be a "god damn queer".
The pain that goes with being a homosexual is only known by another homosexual trying to live in a heterosexual world. My true feelings about other women came to me strongly when I was 13 but I really knew before that time that there was something so different about the way I felt about women. It was at this age that I knew it was going to be important to bury what ever I felt because I was not one of those "god damn queers! "
How those words ring in my ears and the same pain rolls over me like a smothering darkness. That was because I constantly had to bury deep within me who I was. I buried and hid my true feelings for years! Who and how I was freed is my real story. There are other issues that were social values and restrictions at the time and I feel they are worth writing about so any young woman will understand what kept women trapped quietly in their minds and bodies.
I have two granddaughters and I would like them to understand that I lived a lie that I thought was totally necessary to protect my family. Was I a cheat?
Yes, I cheated my family and myself because I could never be who I wanted to be. I cheated my husband and kept us both in a relationship that should have ended years and years ago.
When it did end-- -I have never felt such freedom in my life.
There was and still is a kind of enchantment for me when I see leaves dance with skittering delight across the horizon. And I hear music when I see tumble weeds join in a kind of natural chorus line. They eventually succumb to the wind and are forced to fall out of step with their group.
I now know that I am a tumbleweed that was forced to be a part of a social chorus line. Because I finally succumbed to a brisk wind in my life, I fell out of step with my group and became what I have known that I was since I was thirteen--I am and have always been a lesbian.
Growing up in the 40's was not conducive to think or speak about homosexuality. During this period there was a term for homosexuals and when I heard it in my home they were referred to as "god damn queers”!!! "Sex " was such a forbidden word that I can never remember saying it until I was in high school.
As I began to realize about my own sexuality, I knew that I must never let this secret out and it needed to be buried deeply. After all, I could not and would not be a "god damn queer".
The pain that goes with being a homosexual is only known by another homosexual trying to live in a heterosexual world. My true feelings about other women came to me strongly when I was 13 but I really knew before that time that there was something so different about the way I felt about women. It was at this age that I knew it was going to be important to bury what ever I felt because I was not one of those "god damn queers! "
How those words ring in my ears and the same pain rolls over me like a smothering darkness. That was because I constantly had to bury deep within me who I was. I buried and hid my true feelings for years! Who and how I was freed is my real story. There are other issues that were social values and restrictions at the time and I feel they are worth writing about so any young woman will understand what kept women trapped quietly in their minds and bodies.
I have two granddaughters and I would like them to understand that I lived a lie that I thought was totally necessary to protect my family. Was I a cheat?
Yes, I cheated my family and myself because I could never be who I wanted to be. I cheated my husband and kept us both in a relationship that should have ended years and years ago.
When it did end-- -I have never felt such freedom in my life.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
LAUNDROMATTERS AND OTHER BUBBLES
When Lady Love and I were in Michigan we couldn't wash our clothes at home because the
the well water would turn everything orange! So I seemed to find myself sometime during the week sitting in the Laundromat waiting for clothes to either wash or dry. Now for the average person this waste of time---for me it is another essay in the making.
You can always tell us novice Laundromat folks. We never have the right change. (I nearly always have quarters when the machines take dimes and vice versa.) The true "Laundromatter" has bags of dimes and quarters and never has to run to the changer. Maybe this will come with experience--but I doubt it. I wonder if I get a kind of Las Vegas thrill out of those changers. I do lead kind of a sheltered life!!
Then there's my soap---- or rather where's my soap, my stain remover, and my softener? Oh well, just this once I'll buy it here. I discovered that a couple of this and that is something just short of the national debt. I have to leave that stuff in my car!
Then I always forget my clothes hangers and regular "laundromatters” look at me with pity as I try carefully to fold a shirt that would have really gone well on a hanger. Maybe I should leave extra hangers in my car, too.
Then intimidating "Laundromat" signs: DO NOT DYE IN THESE MACHINES!!!! Or DO NOT OVERLOAD!!! There are never enough chairs in these places and there are always big signs that say, DO NOT SIT ON FOLDING TABLES. Those signs are harder to read 'cause there is always someone sitting on them. Another sign says, "This dryer holds three washer loads of wash!" I never have but two, do you suppose there are laundry police that check on these things?
As I pondered these and other questions, I watched a very large man stuff a quantity of dirty coveralls in a machine. If he had thrown his leg over the side and tamped them in I wouldn't have been surprised. Even the laundry police wouldn't have argued with him!!!
Then a woman with enough clothes to fill a thrift shop came in. She made six trips in with her big loads. She stuffed 10 washers (there is no load limit sign and she seemed to feel comfortable that she was not breaking a laundry law.)
The "launder matter" attendant scrubbed the extra bubbles, soap and dirt off the machines.
I gave him my best cheery "Good Morning" and he came back with,” People are pigs!!" I went back and climbed up on a folding table and sat down. I did have ONE thought for him, though. Instead of grumbling, try putting a broom to the floor (the same orange peel has been there for two weeks.)
I didn't try to cheer him up---I guess I would be pretty disgusted too if I had printed all those great signs and no one read them.
the well water would turn everything orange! So I seemed to find myself sometime during the week sitting in the Laundromat waiting for clothes to either wash or dry. Now for the average person this waste of time---for me it is another essay in the making.
You can always tell us novice Laundromat folks. We never have the right change. (I nearly always have quarters when the machines take dimes and vice versa.) The true "Laundromatter" has bags of dimes and quarters and never has to run to the changer. Maybe this will come with experience--but I doubt it. I wonder if I get a kind of Las Vegas thrill out of those changers. I do lead kind of a sheltered life!!
Then there's my soap---- or rather where's my soap, my stain remover, and my softener? Oh well, just this once I'll buy it here. I discovered that a couple of this and that is something just short of the national debt. I have to leave that stuff in my car!
Then I always forget my clothes hangers and regular "laundromatters” look at me with pity as I try carefully to fold a shirt that would have really gone well on a hanger. Maybe I should leave extra hangers in my car, too.
Then intimidating "Laundromat" signs: DO NOT DYE IN THESE MACHINES!!!! Or DO NOT OVERLOAD!!! There are never enough chairs in these places and there are always big signs that say, DO NOT SIT ON FOLDING TABLES. Those signs are harder to read 'cause there is always someone sitting on them. Another sign says, "This dryer holds three washer loads of wash!" I never have but two, do you suppose there are laundry police that check on these things?
As I pondered these and other questions, I watched a very large man stuff a quantity of dirty coveralls in a machine. If he had thrown his leg over the side and tamped them in I wouldn't have been surprised. Even the laundry police wouldn't have argued with him!!!
Then a woman with enough clothes to fill a thrift shop came in. She made six trips in with her big loads. She stuffed 10 washers (there is no load limit sign and she seemed to feel comfortable that she was not breaking a laundry law.)
The "launder matter" attendant scrubbed the extra bubbles, soap and dirt off the machines.
I gave him my best cheery "Good Morning" and he came back with,” People are pigs!!" I went back and climbed up on a folding table and sat down. I did have ONE thought for him, though. Instead of grumbling, try putting a broom to the floor (the same orange peel has been there for two weeks.)
I didn't try to cheer him up---I guess I would be pretty disgusted too if I had printed all those great signs and no one read them.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
WORDS,words,words
I love words. But then I'm supposed to love words. I am a writer. Writers love to talk but they would really rather write. Words come into my head like leaves blowing around your yard. Now stop and think about leaves for a minute---you know how they skitter (now there is a great word.) and fly about. My head is full of skittering, flying words. If I’m lucky they end up in my computer and then on the printed page.
Words. Lesbian words, lesbian life and lesbian laughter and once in a while a serious thought. It is important that we keep the humor in lesbian life so we may face the tough issues with courage and still keep in mind they are not the only issues in life. There are everyday incidents that are too absurd to pass up. You will find some here.
There are words that make us smile, i.e."Is it my turn to clean the bathroom again?” or "Honey, can we eat lobster in the nude? where to put the butter.” Words that scare us and make us sad i.e. "Oh, no,another gay person has been killed." words that are friends, i.e. love, sex and chocolate chip cookies; words that are enemies, i.e. diet and chocolate chip cookies.
(My personal favorites.)
Love is a great word. How can people be against love whether it is heterosexual or homosexual. True love between two people is so hard to come by. When I hear the spewing of such venom against giving equal rights to lesbians and gays I shudder.
When I went to Michigan to be with Lady Love , I was employed in a large retail sports business. No shortage of "rednecks" there but I was determined to be "out."My employer
was in agreement and she told me if I had any trouble just let her know. I told her I would tell her if it happened but I would handle it. And I did.
Sure enough,about 3 weeks into my employment I came to the lunch room and one of the young men carried on a conversation in a loud voice meant for me:" I hate queer men and queer WOMEN!!"
I walked over and pulled out a chair and sat down beside him. I spoke to him in a quiet, even
voice: "Excuse me, I haven't met you yet, but I am a queer women and really you don't know me well enough to call me queer, perhaps if you get to know me better, I'll let you call me the old queer---only my friends can call me queer."
He was red faced and thunderstruck but he responded with a smile and polite conversation all related to hunting. He never referred to my gayness again. I chatted with him many times in the months to come and we had good conversations and we really enjoyed visiting.
He always treated me with respect, but he never attempted to call me the "old queer."
Words. Lesbian words, lesbian life and lesbian laughter and once in a while a serious thought. It is important that we keep the humor in lesbian life so we may face the tough issues with courage and still keep in mind they are not the only issues in life. There are everyday incidents that are too absurd to pass up. You will find some here.
There are words that make us smile, i.e."Is it my turn to clean the bathroom again?” or "Honey, can we eat lobster in the nude? where to put the butter.” Words that scare us and make us sad i.e. "Oh, no,another gay person has been killed." words that are friends, i.e. love, sex and chocolate chip cookies; words that are enemies, i.e. diet and chocolate chip cookies.
(My personal favorites.)
Love is a great word. How can people be against love whether it is heterosexual or homosexual. True love between two people is so hard to come by. When I hear the spewing of such venom against giving equal rights to lesbians and gays I shudder.
When I went to Michigan to be with Lady Love , I was employed in a large retail sports business. No shortage of "rednecks" there but I was determined to be "out."My employer
was in agreement and she told me if I had any trouble just let her know. I told her I would tell her if it happened but I would handle it. And I did.
Sure enough,about 3 weeks into my employment I came to the lunch room and one of the young men carried on a conversation in a loud voice meant for me:" I hate queer men and queer WOMEN!!"
I walked over and pulled out a chair and sat down beside him. I spoke to him in a quiet, even
voice: "Excuse me, I haven't met you yet, but I am a queer women and really you don't know me well enough to call me queer, perhaps if you get to know me better, I'll let you call me the old queer---only my friends can call me queer."
He was red faced and thunderstruck but he responded with a smile and polite conversation all related to hunting. He never referred to my gayness again. I chatted with him many times in the months to come and we had good conversations and we really enjoyed visiting.
He always treated me with respect, but he never attempted to call me the "old queer."
EXERCISE,OH YEAH!
The words running about in my head this a. m. are all to do with exercise. I love exercise. Walking, Tai Chi, reading a book, (exercising my mind) and have course, watching Tiger Woods play golf on TV. I am a senior lesbian so I lean a little towards conservative exercise.
Saturday I sat down to take a break from writing and eat a Snickers bar. I flipped on the TV---golf-flip-auto racing-flip-basketball -flip-infomercial, mmm an "abs" builder. No doubt about that my "abs" could stand a little building. Probably could start by not eating Snickers bar when I break from writing.
Guess I'll watch this guy. It is ENLIGHTENING! For $19.99 and 20 minutes a day I could have "abs" as hard as a "six-pack". I wondered what that meant and I also wondered how long it would take --a month, six months or a year? Better assess my abs.
When I pulled my shirt up to look at my "abs. My god, where were they? They were there, but they looked like a cross between cottage cheese and beige jelly. May be a Twinkie six pack. Not a pretty sight. My "abs" could be better described as “flabs"! As a "before" the abs builder I would probably be considered an overachiever.
But then during a commercial in the middle of the infomercial the "abs" man said he would be right back with a woman "who lost inches and weight" using the abs builder. Great this would give me a break to go to the bathroom and then see if there was any leftover pizza. A little piece wouldn't spoil my supper. Ask any writer--sometimes-writing just needs to be fed.
All of my missions accomplished, I snuggled back into the couch just in time to see this gorgeous woman (a size 3) shiny, tan, and muscular. No love handles and sure enough---"abs". It was when they showed "before" picture that I really lost interest in sending for this $19.99 wonder and expending that 20 minutes a day. She must have been a size 3 1/4 when she started on this wonderful program.
Oh well, time to get back to writing---I think I have spent more than enough time on exercise.
Saturday I sat down to take a break from writing and eat a Snickers bar. I flipped on the TV---golf-flip-auto racing-flip-basketball -flip-infomercial, mmm an "abs" builder. No doubt about that my "abs" could stand a little building. Probably could start by not eating Snickers bar when I break from writing.
Guess I'll watch this guy. It is ENLIGHTENING! For $19.99 and 20 minutes a day I could have "abs" as hard as a "six-pack". I wondered what that meant and I also wondered how long it would take --a month, six months or a year? Better assess my abs.
When I pulled my shirt up to look at my "abs. My god, where were they? They were there, but they looked like a cross between cottage cheese and beige jelly. May be a Twinkie six pack. Not a pretty sight. My "abs" could be better described as “flabs"! As a "before" the abs builder I would probably be considered an overachiever.
But then during a commercial in the middle of the infomercial the "abs" man said he would be right back with a woman "who lost inches and weight" using the abs builder. Great this would give me a break to go to the bathroom and then see if there was any leftover pizza. A little piece wouldn't spoil my supper. Ask any writer--sometimes-writing just needs to be fed.
All of my missions accomplished, I snuggled back into the couch just in time to see this gorgeous woman (a size 3) shiny, tan, and muscular. No love handles and sure enough---"abs". It was when they showed "before" picture that I really lost interest in sending for this $19.99 wonder and expending that 20 minutes a day. She must have been a size 3 1/4 when she started on this wonderful program.
Oh well, time to get back to writing---I think I have spent more than enough time on exercise.
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