So many of us have been taken for granted

I think I am all set on my new computer. It takes me awhile to get used to the new keyboard, which is a bit smaller and more compact. I got the Sony Vaio, which is perfect for this kind of work. And, with the wireless connection built in, I can now blog anywhere. I'm actually sitting on my front porch blogging now. OK... I know what you are thinking... get a life Bill. Perhaps you are right. I'm a bit of a geek.

We are all excited about our trip to New York City this coming weekend, although we have heard that their is a gang of punks going around the Chelsea area beating up gay guys (I have to figure out if that's where we are going to be). We will be staying in Manhattan Midtown. On Saturday, we plan on taking in some of the sites, the World Trade Center, a museum or two, and end up in the Christopher Street area. Hopefully, that isn't where that gang is going to be.

I was reading an article today in Newsday.com about the repeal of the British statute, Section 28. The law was introduced under Conservative Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher in 1988. Basically, the law barred local government councils from "promoting" homosexuality. In other words, don't talk about it at all in the schools.

"Today's repeal of Section 28 is a triumph for 21st-century tolerance over 19th-century prejudice," said Ben Summerskill, chief executive of gay justice group Stonewall.

The law, which barred local government councils from "promoting" homosexuality, was the subject of protests from the moment it was introduced under Conservative Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher in 1988. It was devised to deal with concerns over homosexual content in sex education, but was condemned by campaigners as discriminatory.

It struck me that for so long homosexuality was something not to be talked about. We are all too eager as a society to experience beautiful art, music, sculpture, or literature and we often times like to know a bit about the creator of that work. I know from my past that it's not uncommon to study a composer of music who happened to be gay. I always took comfort in the fact that if that person could achieve something great in his lifetime with conditions as bad as they were, than I surely could do something with my life worth while.

I remember in college, I was attending a class on romantic composers. I remember that we were studying the Fourth Symphony of Tchaikovsky. If you aren't familiar with the work, I will tell you that it's not an easy listen. Tchaikovsky, who was gay, lived at a time and place when being gay was not accepted. He had to try to hide his orientation, and, through a series of doomed relationships with women and men, finally tried to commit suicide. All because he was made to feel like garbage because of how he felt.

I felt like Tchaikovsky was talking directly to me through this work. It was as if he were screaming his despair at me, to be a witness to what he went through. I remember thinking, "It's not that bad now". Then, one of the girls in the class raised her hand and asked, "Wasn't Tchaikovsky a homosexual?". The room got quiet as if she said something totally inappropriate. The instructor told the class that he was. The students shook their heads in a disapproving manner, and one male student offered the opinion of "that's gross". So much for trying to understand his despair. I remember thinking at the time that I wanted to say to the class, "Is this how you will live your life? You will dismiss anything not in your immediate understanding with 'that's gross'?".

It wasn't just that class. Homophobia was alive and well at the College of Idaho, as you can well imagine. None of us were out, although we had formed a bit of a network on campus. We knew each other on campus, but couldn't risk what would happen and we never spoke with others outside of our group in a way that would indicate that we even knew each other. Especially Kent and me. We live in an all male dorm which consisted of a large number of jocks. In our senior year, people did find out, and it was open season. The people that we thought of as friends, turned out to be total jerks.

I remember one instance where I went to ask our RA something. His name was Dave S. (no last names given, but people who know the college probably can figure out who I'm talking about). I was in the doorway. I asked my question, and they all looked at me and laughed at me. There were probably five other guys in his room. One of them got up, came over to me, and put his arm around me. He then asked me if I'd like to get in his pick up with him, and drive out to the lake, presumably to make out. Of course, it was all part of their way of humiliating me. I removed his arm from my shoulder and promptly told him to get lost, which prompted another outburst of laughter.

It's funny... after all these years, that still hurts. I want to tell Dave how much that hurt, and how much of a jerk he was. I guess you can't make people more than what they are inside, but one would hope that the people who you stick with the label of "friend" would be a bit more understanding.