Happy Birthday Dad!

Today is my dad’s birthday and I wish him the best day filled with a reminder of all of life’s joy. My dad has a zest for life and an understanding of how important it is to remain child like in your approach to the unknown. He makes me laugh, he provides me comfort and he is unabashed in his display of love.

I love you da-da!!!

Part 2 Chapter 2

From the age of 4 through age 7 I remember feeling safe, loved, nurtured and adored. I had two dad’s who were madly in love with each other and were able to celebrate this love through having a family. We were the Gay version of Annie and I had a lot of Daddy Warbucks’ around me. I was the center of all parties and there were a lot of parties. Easter, Birthdays, Oscar’s, Super Bowls (yes, my extended family loved the 49ers), Thanksgiving and Christmas. All over the top and all a ton of fun for me. I was used to being around adults with no playmates in sight having spent so much time at my grandmother’s house and these fiesta’s were no exception. Many of my uncles craved a family and I was the closest outlet. I was carried around the homes, I was spoken to as an adult, I was played with, read to and I was LOVED! I am still convinced one of our closest family friends bought a dog so that I would have something extra to entertain me while at his home. They recorded movies for me to watch when it was time to wind down for bed. I had a bed always made up for me when I arrived. And, I always had separate snacks since I was a picky eater.

One thing that has always stood out at these parties is the lack of stereotypes exhibited. Granted they protected me from all things crass and treated me as a porcelain doll, but never did I hear a dirty joke, see anyone fondling each other, no affection was being staged or see any grandiose feminine gestures. These men were all professionals, travelled and educated. I am not sure what happened when I went to bed, but I can tell you that while the alcohol may have flowed with abundance I was always protected from anything that could be interpreted as vulgar. I was after all everyone’s child and favorite niece.

I recall observing on more than one occasion Oliver’s best friend Burt providing a severe tongue lashing to a new clique member. I would never see them back at any function after these scoldings. I always felt bad for them, but I was happy that I was never being told I had done something wrong. What I discovered later in life was the scolding was because of me. These newbies had been schooled prior to their invitation to the Gayest Gala in town that I was to be considered at all times. This meant a certain amount of control was expected and if any of my uncle’s felt this line was crossed the newbie would be told as such. Never one to take chances with my well being, Burt would promptly ban these younglings from ever returning to these parties because they had violated the sanctity of my innocence. Mind you that I never over heard what was being scolded, but the protection was so strong over me that whether I was in ear shot or not did not matter.

A little girl could not have been happier. Only a year prior I had come from a life where I felt scared all of the time. I was scared that I would never see my parents again or that I would be forgotten at one of the many homes I was left for care with. With this new family I started to come out of my shell of shyness and I was able to be a little girl (well, a little Princess really).  These parties were some of the happiest times I can remember and while there were very rarely any women around, these men taught me how a woman should be treated.

To be continued………..

Part 1 Chapter 2

My new home was a wonderland. It sat on a hill over looking a valley nested in fragrant pine and eucalyptus trees. The neighborhood was rural; the street twisted and turned sprinkling houses here and there as you rose to the top. There were no street lights, no airplanes flying overhead and you could barely hear whether your neighbors were home. The yards were well manicured with California Native flowers and shrubs. The backdrop for this neighborhood was a private school for girls on the other side of the hill and a water shed that cradled the valley. Wild animals could be heard and seen, creeks gurgled, blackberry bushes fenced the creeks and the woods that framed this scene seemed never ending. For a child that had never really seen so much life from living in a concrete cave this was something straight out of a fairy tale. Deers, birds, bob cats, vultures, wild turkey, lizards, frogs…all new to me and all spectacular.

The neighborhood families all had children of various ages. Next door to me was my first friend. He was not as frightened of people as I was, but he was most definitely shy. One year my senior and with a set of monkey bars in his yard, he was my new mate. His thick black hair always attempting to wisp over his peering blue eyes revealed a boy who was kind and curious. Jason’s yellow house was a play ground to me. It has something I had never seen before: 2 floors. I wanted to run and up and down the stairs all day long, but being the 4 year old boy he was more interested in all things outside. His mother had a gravely voice that you could hear from any radius of his home; the woman could project her calls what seems miles. We had no doubts when she was calling us back to her kitchen and there was no hesitation to begin moving toward it when the beacon was sent out. His father seemed to be a shy timid man. He was usually working but when he was not he seemed in constant contemplation. It was Jason who introduced me to the other children in the neighborhood. My across the street neighbors Ellen, also one year older, and her older brother Chad who would become my first crush. Down the street were Doug and Mark who I never was very sure about. They were awkward suspicious  boys. And, around the bend was Helen who would become a life long friend who I would lose track of and pick up again throughout my life. Jason and I walked to people’s homes, creek walked for hours and would study plant life while he would tell me stories of where this plant came from. Jason taught me to fly kites and not be afraid of the nature around me. A boy scout in the making he was adventurous and a small gentleman never allowing me to get hurt in any of our quests in the woods and creeks.

While it was never said it was known to me at a very early age my family was different and my family had secrets. The neighborhood children were not invited over to my house; my dad would always ask if I could go over to theirs for a few hours during the week while he sought out day care for me. I never questioned this being eager to please and terrified of being left again. The neighborhood parents also never asked if their children could come to my house. I have no doubt that there were suspicions of my parent’s gayness and I have no doubt that despite the progressiveness of Marin County the stereotype of homosexuals being perverts was prominent in parents minds. This is despite my yard having a pool and large enclosed yard to play in. This is despite me being a spoiled princess with more toys than I could possibly ever play with. But, this was the way it was due to the times and the mentality of most parents.

Oliver worked in San Francisco in the insurance industry. A white collar conservative and consistent industry that appealed to Oliver’s love of study and steady. The year was 1979 and it was still a time where a gay man could be fired if he was outed. Recall that this was the year after Proposition 6 was defeated. A politician from Orange County asked California to vote on banning any suspected gay teachers from educating children in California. This proposition also sought to out people who supported gay rights and ban then from public service as well. Although Proposition 6 failed there remained a reticent hurt and fear. More importantly, there were no anti discrimination laws protecting gay people from being fired just simply for being gay. Oliver was putting on a front with his employer. My dad could not be known to them and because Oliver’s home was more than an hour from the Financial District there was little threat of someone stopping by. This was a blessing because life at home was unsettling for all of us.

The biggest fear in our household was me. I was not warming up to Oliver and in fact I would neither speak to him nor look at him. Oliver’s hopes of having a family rested on my little heart opening up. 6 months had passed and there was no sign of this happening. I was a picky eater, I only wanted to be around my daddy and I refused to sleep by myself. Not exactly the situation described by the psychic Oliver had been counseled by so many years ago. My dad must have sensed that my love would be the glue to the relationship because he tried everything to help me warm up. To his dismay nothing was working. A trip to Golden Gate Park proved to be overwhelming for me and embarrassing for Oliver. I cried the entire time overcome by how many people were around us. I was weight in my dad’s arm who attempted to find relief for his arms in passing me along to Oliver but my protest quashed any success of that endeavor. Oliver tried cooking for me but I would not eat anything that was handed to me by him. He tried reading to me but I cried when he would enter my room without my dad. I was, to put it mildly, an impossible child.

A year passed and as Oliver frequently did, he went on a much needed business trip. He traveled at least 3 days per month for work, My dad and I would drive him to the airport and retrieve him from his returning flight. This trip was particularly special for Oliver. He contemplated his relationship, the lack of relationship with me and what effect this was having on everyone involved. He wondered if maybe this was not going to work. He felt he may have to break things off when he returned home. As he walked through the gate he saw my dad’s curly hair towering above all of the anxious greeters waiting for their loved ones. I was there too nestled in between my dad’s  legs circling in and out of them as he stood waiting. I heard my dad say “Oh! There he is!” I looked up and saw my dad’s love smile. My head turned towards the object of his affection and I ran. I ran not away from Oliver but to him. He dropped his carry-on to the floor and with shock opened his arms as he bent down to my height. I put my arms around his neck and hugged him tight. I had missed him. My dad peered on with confusion and mixed elation. Oliver stayed knelt down until I had put my little body so close to his that he could pick me up with one arm. He kissed my cheek, looked at my dad and carried me back to the car. I insisted on sitting in the middle of them cuddled up to Oliver the entire two hour ride home. My dad did not know it, but I had just saved their relationship.

Civil Rights and Obama….say it ain’t so!

Oh say it isn’t so! Obama is teetering between the religion right (who are on their way out of politics in my opinion…give it another 10 years) and gay rights. He made a lot of promises during his election to the gay community about DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act) and his feelings that it was discriminatory in nature. But, recently the Justice Department issued a brief on Arthur Smelt and Christopher Hammer v. United States of America to dismiss citing an incest case. WTF???!!! The sad thing is that this case is not strong (summary of the case it the fight for a gay married couple in California to have their marriage recognized in all states…ya know, something that hetero married couples have the right to? Get married in Alabama and your marriage is recognized in Washington) and in all likelihood should be dismissed. But, why would they make such a ridiculous argument as to compare it to a case that involved an uncle and a niece who wanted their marriage recognized??? It seems they have poured gasoline on the fire without cause and Obama being a constitutional lawyer should know this. Yes, I am fully aware that he did not compose the brief but what I am saying is that this is coming out of the mouths of his administration who represents him.

Now the balance to this is Obama has recently provided federal benefits to LGBT partners of federal employees. This is a good thing. He also appears to be saying that he will work towards repealing DOMA with Congress. Again, this is a good thing. I just have to wonder why his Department of Justice would issue a brief that is so Bush like. Sad. Sad. Sad.

Oh and by the way….Obama still does not believe in same sex marriage but he is for extending all of the legal benefits to same sex couples. Teetering.

Part 3 Chapter 1

** Quick note: Some names have been changed. All events are from my memory and conversations had or overheard. 

At my grandmother’s home I felt suffocated. I loved her but was weary of her. She had this air about her that was deliberate. In her life, Grandma Pearl had been married and divorced about five different times. She was an abused woman by men and yet she was fiercely independent; cancer would eventually take her over leaving her helpless and dependent – two things she could never tolerate. Two of her children were of the same father (my dad being one of them and my aunt Harmony the oldest child being the other – both favored their father) and the youngest was from a separate but short marriage that again ended in abuse. Pearl ran her own beauty shop out of her converted garage where she catered to the local women and Canadian women who would cross the border to visit her. The shop was rancid with the smell of permanents curling women’s poor over processed hair. I distrusted Pearl because I did not understand why I was there. My mother had always let me read and explore; my grandmother was not keen on me reading and felt I should stay put while she worked. A 2 year old being asked to sit still? I was more of an ornament  in the shop than a grandchild. In my own personal revolution against my grandmother, I hid constantly from her and would wander away from her house while she was working. Once I hid underneath her car. I stayed under there for hours looking at the rocks beneath her tires; studying the different sizes. She finally called the police. I could hear her making up all sorts of explanations of how I got our of her sight: I was so small! Anyone could lose a child that small! I was a beautiful child and anyone could have duped her into looking the other way while they stole me!  It was probably my mother in a haze come to steal me! I thought this was hysterical listening to my grandmother fib to a policeman. I started to laugh and within a few minutes this large man’s head peered beneath the vehicle asking me to please come out. I did and the consequences to my behind were severe. My hiding would send her into a terror which always ended poorly for my bottom. I don’t imagine she ever wanted to be in a position of explaining to my father or my mother that she had lost her grandchild. 

My dad came to visit two times while I was there. I recall his masked horror during the first visit when he saw that she had cut my long, thick, blonde curly hair into a boys cut. Apparently she did not feel she needed to tend to my hair in conjunction to working 7 days a week and watching me until it was time to drive me to California. Or maybe it was because she kicked her then husband out of their marital room and had me sleep with her. She always complained that my hair got in the way of everything. She never left me in the room alone with anyone and insisted whenever we were in the same house (even into my teen years) that I sleep in the same bed with her so she could protect me from harm. I was an intensely shy child who wanted nothing to do with any stranger which was a likely byproduct of my mother leaving me with unknowns; this was Pearl’s way of protecting me; trying to help me feel safe. Strange yes, but devious no. There my dad was looking at me and commenting “What did she do to your hair child?” Out came my grandmother asking if he liked it. Before he could respond, she let him know that my hair was too thick for a child’s head and this was the one way she could brush it. My dad’s expression surely gave him away; Pearl had turned his little girl into a little boy. She added that no girl this young should be reading and it would do good of him to stop sending me books to read. I was just 2 years old and had been reading to myself for a few months now. My mom and dad had taught me to pick out the alphabet and spell our names off of the cereal boxes at the grocery store when I was a little over 12 months old. Pearl did not approve. She preferred little girls learn how to be little ladies. What man is going to want to marry a girl who acts smarter than him? This coming from a woman whose taste in men needed tending. 

The one time I recall feeling close to Pearl was after she had warned me not to pet the dog next door. Of course the first chance I got I went to the fence to pet the yellow lab who was about three times as big as I was. Placing my small hand through the metal opening of the wire fence I opened the gate, I stepped inside the gate and I was on my back with a 30 pound dog on top of me blood draining from my chin. The dog had gashed my small chin and Pearl beat the dog to within an inch of its life. She took me to the emergency room for stitches and held me on her lap ride back home in between her lap and the steering wheel. She cooed and coddled me; she made me feel safe. The dog, however, would run every time either myself or Pearl stepped outside. I can’t imagine what the vet bill must have been but the dog certainly learned its lesson about attacking small children; or at least just me. 

It was shortly after this that Pearl packed me up with her husband and drove me from the Canadian border to Sleepy Hollow, California. A small neighborhood with all of its streets named after the characters in the famed book in the complicated Marin County. As we got closer to my new home I looked up out of the windows and all I could see were these tall trees; they canopied the street we were on for what seemed like hours. Pearl kept calling it “Buttercup Road,” but I would come to know it as Butterfield; the main road through the 3.5 miles of asphalt that connected my house to the rest of San Anselmo, California. A few turns off “Buttercup,” up and endless hill and I was in the arms of my daddy. There was a stranger present whom my dad kept in close vicinity to. I wrapped my arms tighter around my dad as he attempted to introduce me to the stranger. “Say hi to Oliver. This is our new home and this is Oliver’s house.” I would not answer. I would not perform any pleasantries. I would not look at him. I was scared he was taking me away or worse that my dad was leaving me with him alone. Another person I did not know and I had no confidence when my dad would come back. The tears started and I would not allow my dad to put me down for the rest of the night. Oliver was worried.

To be continued………..

Gay Life…the first memory

One of my first memories is when my mom and my dad were together. I was about 2 years old and we lived in the same apartment complex as my mom’s youngest sister, aka my babysitter. I remember that my dad hung out at his friend’s place a lot where interestingly enough there were only men around. This was my first clue that my dad was gay. He would take me every now and then. I remember enjoying this apartment because they all treated me like little doll. They enjoyed holding me and catering to my requests. I was, after all, a Princess in Training. I was a tiny blue eyed blonde object of affection for all of his friends. I could not get enough of them and their cooing. They bought me toys and books for my visits. My uncles took care of me. They read to me, they cradled me in the blanket my grandmother knitted for me and they would talk to me as if I was the most important person in the world. The best part of it was that I was near my dad. 

Anywho, one of my very first memories is my mom and my dad getting into an argument. I remember they were yelling at each other, I was scared with the screaming and then the worst thing that could have happened occurred…my dad left. I ran after him. He was walking quickly and all I could see, being as that I was vertically challenged at the time, were his red stitched leather ankle boots and his jeans swaying around them. I tried to follow him past the pool and to his friends house, but I kept falling. The pathway had a slight incline and for reasons I cannot remember I had an inner-tube around my waste that I was desperate not to lose. I finally relented to the ground and started to cry. I cried the abandonment cry; ya know the one where you hyperventilate? Through my stinging tears I saw what I had hoped for. My legs stopped their brisk walk, turned around and great big hands scooped me up. He pulled my head to his neck and whispered “Honey, I didn’t know you were behind me.” Everything was instantly better. 

A year later my dad left my mom. Their arrangement no longer worked for him and her acceptance of who he was waned. My dad was my world; daddy’s girl does not quite describe it. I worshipped him and was addicted to his love. He visited me after he left but not as often as I wanted. I was only 3 years old and the world I had known was constantly changing. Actually, I don’t think it had ever been stable. My dad was gay. My mom knew this but in her desperation for love and consistency, she was willing to accept anything and any circumstances. I was not planned, but I was planned manipulation. This was not the first time my dad had left her. She had seduced him one night after what he thought was his final departure and I was the result. My dad was not surprised at the news because this had been resolved before, but this was the first time she had said she was keeping the baby. My dad’s reaction was a shock to her; he was elated. I often wonder what she had hoped for, but in truth it is painful to ponder. They were back together, my mom was happy and my dad was excited about becoming a father. Life was tolerable for them after I was born. I was their glue; the only thing they seemed to have left in common. My dad was in complete wonderment of me, but my mom was jealous of his attention. Oh she adored me…there is no doubt of that. Her affection was infectious and she never held back on telling me how much she loved me. My family says it was the happiest time in her life and her journal reflects this. My dad, however, became more distant and my mom resorted to drugs to soothe her pain. He would no longer give into her requests and attempted seduction. After 2 years of this game, my dad had met someone he could not stay away from. The problem was that this man lived in California and I lived in Washington. My dad decided he could visit and moved to California to follow his heart. He did not think my mom could handle if he took me from her. 

To be continued……..

A Gayla

I am so impressed with an event I attended last night. I attended a fundraiser for The Center Orange County. They provide outreach, education, HIV testing, support groups, etc for the LGBT community. They honored Peter Paige (Emmett Hunneycutt in Queer As Folk) and Jane Lynch (L Word, Christopher Guest movies, etc) for their advocacy in the Gay Community. Cybill Shepherd introduced Jane Lynch and wowza! These ladies are GORGEOUS!

I went with my best friend who sponsored a table. It was just lovely. The celebrities there were very generous with their time and fan photos. They provided thoughtful acceptance speeches for their awards and seemed genuinely by the adoration they were receiving. 

I spent sometime chatting with Peter Paige and he was probably the most tender celebrities I have ever met. He did not seem eager to get away and he was actually quite interesting. I was a fan of his acting before and now I can say I really just like him. He was fun. No, I don’t think we will be going out to coffee but I did not feel the smug that usually comes from celebrity events. 

What I really walked away with was a renewed commitment to fighting the fight. Even though the heels I was wearing were like modern day foot binding, I still felt the message of we need all the help we can get and we need all the friends we can get. Civil rights are exactly as defined: they are a RIGHT. It is time for me to jump back in the game. I have been a side liner too long. I will do what I can to support and be present in this movement. Watch out bitches….she is back!

I’ve Been Twilighted…..

I have been reading the Twilight Series by Stephenie Meyer. I had been previously avoiding it out of fear that I would become hooked. I was right to be reluctant because I am totally hooked. I just finished the 3rd book Eclipse and rented the movie Twilight…One of the lead characters who played Edward, Robert Pattinson, in the movie is frickin hot. But, not in a Brad Pitt perfection way; he is hot in a mysterious uncomfortable way. When you watch the movie, you just want him to keep talking much like when you read the book. They did a FANTASTIC job with this casting. 

So, now I feel like I have been sucked into this world. I went to keep reading because I have to know what happens. I am totally sucked in, hooked and addicted. I give you fair warning if you have not read this book: it will capture you. It does not have the homoeroticism that the Anne Rice books have and Edward is definitely no Lestat. He more vulnerable and dark. He is not the troublemaker. He is the tortured soul. I guess he more like Louis but with personality. 

I have no doubt that Robert Pattinson’s Edward portrayal will elevate him into a gay crush. Move over Anderson Cooper, Brad Pitt, Clooney and Hugh Jackman….ok maybe not Hugh….there is a new boy in town and I predict he gets the following.

Screw Teabaggin…Try Treehuggin!

 

It is in our hands

I am a total tree hugger….TOTALLY. Except that I don’t necessarily look like a tree hugger. I try to buy used clothing, I recycle, I buy organic when I can afford it, I grow vegetables, I compost, I use green light bulbs, I unplug everything, I turn off the water in between rinsing and I walk where ever I can. I do believe we can make a difference by doing things that do impact our lives or the comfort of them. I save money in gas and in electricity. Yup, that’s right I save money! You should see how much money I save in clothes and I do not compromise in style…..well, my style. 

So I urge you to do something today and tomorrow and the next day. You, me and all of us can make a difference. Take a step. It will make you feel good. And, even if you do not believe in global warming it can save you some cash$$ ….we all like that.

Teabaggers Unite

I’m having a hard time understanding people who listen to Limbaugh, Hannity, Beck, etc. I just cannot get my mind around why people believe these guys. Do people not understand that this is all an act? A show? Entertainment? Do they not understand that these shock jocks are not passionate behind what they are selling? And yet, people follow them blindly.

I was watching a show on Democracy Now( http://www.democracynow.org/) about these guys and I was flabbergasted to hear clips of them being….dare I say? Liberal. They were talking about how to get more viewers and the only way to get more viewers was to get more extreme with the rhetoric. They were also talking about what a fucked up job Bush was doing and how he was destroying our civil rights. Believe you me, if the media was so Lefty this would have been on the Evening News. But, it was not.

I never paid much attention to this clique of entertainers because quite frankly I do not enjoy listening to their lies and contradictions….even it is for entertainment purposes. 4 years ago when “The Left” was protesting about various Bush doctrines Hannity was on the news calling them terrorists and how dare they go against their president. Now, he is covering the Teabagging event and saying it is our patrotic duty to voice dissent. What the fuck?? This is what I am talking about – IT IS ALL AN ACT.

Again, this is why I take such issue with people who follow these people. And no…before you get your pantyhose all twisted I am not someone who follows Left Radio or rhetoric. I think the news in general is full of shit and does not actually report any news. If they did we would not have been subjected to Brittany watch last summer. If you really want the news, you have to go find it and it is certainly NOT on Fox or CNN.