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 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.

This is what family looks like

Happiness is a little girl loved by her two daddys

A very happy father’s day to all of the daddy’s out there. I am blessed with two father’s who continue to love and support me as I do them. Which is all that matters to a child…do their parents love and cherish this child? Will they do everything in their power to protect their child? Gay parents, straight parents, adopted parents, transgendered parents, lesbian parents, bi-sexual parents and plain ol parents all feel the same way. Yes they will and do.

So a special HAPPY FATHER’S DAY to my two wonderfully loving dad’s who continue to guide me through the best and worst of times! I love you!!!

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………..

It’s Gettin Hot In Here….

It’s hotter than Hades And, it is times like these when I think of my dear friends over at the National Organization for Marriage. I really do believe that because of their hatred for civil rights, they are going to find their place in the location they dread most. Has anyone viewed the audition tapes for their latest ad? My favorite is the herpes girl (she appeared in a commercial to prevent herpes); she is truly an up and coming actress! The lies are startling, but the positive outcome is that it is uniting people to keep fighting for civil rights. Gay People will be able to live in any state, walk into city hall and get their marriage license! This will be a truth someday.

 

 

Hades....recruiting from the land of bigots!

Gay Parents….this one is for you

To My “Family” ….(“family” is gay speak for in the gay family). I recently received a request to share my information with another gay family. This is not my first request and I am always happy to discuss my experiences with other gay families.

So, what is it like to grow up in a gay family? Again, this is just a tidbit. I would say that growing up in a gay fam nowadays, probably pretty fabulous. You have 2 parents that soooooo want these little bundles of terror/joy and who will provide a very unique perspective of the world for these kids. My experience has been that gay parents teach a unique level of acceptance towards the world and a unique understanding of how wonderful and rough life can be. It is truly something to be proud of and I am proud to be a part of this community. 

But, what you ask, was it like for me? Home was loving and secure. I knew my parents were together and I knew where my home was 100% of the time. The outside world was especially tough though. There were no laws protecting gay employees from discrimination. So, my parents were in effect closeted to most of the world. They could have been fired and in all likelihood would have been had they been discovered. In their efforts to protect me they did not talk about being “gay.” This is something I understand but do wish was different. Shall I give you an example of why I understand this?

Well let me say this as plainly as possible. My 4th grade teacher was a cunt. Oh yeah, you read that correctly…I said c-u-n-t. She was a homophobic cunt. She was abusive, she ridiculed me in front of the class and she tried to fail me so she could torture me again. Think I am over reacting? Well, she wrote a letter to my dad and told him what she thought about gay people and a “fag child.” I saw this letter infuriate and crush my dad. Wanna know what the school did about it? Nuthin. Fuckin nuthin. It was one of the first times I realized that my home life was much different than my peers. Can you imagine my dad’s heart breaking when he read this letter? I saw it and it was awful. There was not much he could do either. We had no rights and this bitch was tenured. My biological dad had rights to me but my other dad did not. So, they could not join in as a united front. 

It is different now and I am so thankful this. Really…I AM SO THANKFUL FOR THIS. I love that I see kids coming out early. I love that gay teachers can be out now (I had many gay teachers all whom I loved….didn’t know why I related to them and why they were protective of me, but figured it out many years later) and there is no fear of being fired for being gay. 

My advice to gay families is to be open. Your children will be proud of you for living your life authentically. I love seeing my dad’s be out and open. I love seeing them with no fear of being who they are. And, I love them for giving me this life. Kids are going to be teased about something parents. It could be the car you drive is not cool enough for their friends, it could be your totally unfashionable jeans or it could be that you clap too loud at their school play….or more evil little things, it could be their clothes, it could be their hair is not perfect, they might have a pimple or it could be that they don’t hold themselves like kewl people do. But, ya know what? When they come home and know they are loved, it won’t hurt so bad.