My weekend

This weekend was wonderful. Actually, much of it was like a dream.

Friday night, we went to have dinner at Peppercorns Grill in Hartford. Both of us had the risotto special, which was really wonderful. People ask, “What’s so special about risotto that you could make it a main course.” Well, trust me, if it’s done right, it’s really quite remarkable. We took our time. We got there at 5:30pm and didn’t leave until 7:30 or so. We had tickets to a Christmas celebration with Renee Fleming.

Renee Fleming, what a presence she had with the audience. And when she stepped onto the stage in a crimson gown with these unbelievable diamond earrings on that were no less than two inches long, well, it was somewhat breathtaking. She came to the center of the stage, and, with a warm an inviting smile, looked at all of us, as if we were simply in a living room, there together to share a celebration of music.

As she sung with this beautiful voice of hers, she would look around and invited us into her world of music. I felt as if she were singing to me. And as she left the stage, she would warmly look at us. I really didn’t think I would get into Christmas music, because it’s usually so fake. But this was different. It was genuine. And when she sang Holy Night, I found myself in tears. I know it’s hard for you to imagine that, but the harmonies she used and the way she sung it, were very touching. The concert lasted three hours with three standing ovations. She ended with a very personal tribute to her mother; a song that her mother used to sang to her on Christmas. She shared it with us.

So we spent Saturday remembering the concert, and how wonderful life can be. We have a lot to be thankful for.

I spoke to my brother, who lives in Idaho, late Saturday morning. He’s a bit down on his luck right now, so I sent him a special present to help him out a bit. It’s so strange... my life. When I was a kid, I was very close to my sister. She was also interested in being a singer. I was interested in piano and violin primarily. And later, in singing also. I was never close to my brother. He’s what I would have characterized as a bully. He was always making fun of me, along with my step father; the two of them hinting occasionally about the cruelest thing of all; that I might be like Liberace. That is, gay. I will spare you the more colorful adjectives that they would use, but I think you can imagine a few of them. And they would both feel this was very funny. During this time, I hid that I was gay or different in any way. I became a recluse and retreated to the safety of my room, hardly ever coming out to the rest of the house except for bathroom breaks, or meals. It became a way of life for me. I lived my life in the shadow of others of lifetimes past. My existence was the fact that they existed. In their world, I was nothing but a feeling person, who was alive in this time period on the memories of what they once were.

That is what got me through my adolescent years. That is what kept me just on the edge of safety. Had I been myself, I undoubtedly would have been the disgrace of my family, and most likely homeless, or dead. I walked a very thin line. All the while, I don’t think I really fooled anyone. The jokes about gays, they came from my brother, step father, and sister. And I would laugh at them as well. What better cover to hide your sexuality than to laugh at queers; like yourself? It was no toll to me ego because I had no ego. My goal was clear; to survive long enough to be out of the place I was in. The only person who never laughed at the gay jokes, was Mom.

So here I am years later, beyond the middle of my life, and I have finally come to a place that I can be myself, for the most part. It really should come as no surprise that gay folks who are getting older want to live in “gay friendly” environments. I have friends who do not accept the gay part of me. We talk about other things. They meet with me occasionally, I suppose so they can say, in this era of so-called “acceptance”, in some areas of the country at least, that they are enlightened, because they have allowed a person like me, “a gay”, to be their friend. I also have straight friends who never talk about being gay because they are in totally acceptance of it. It doesn’t have to be talked about because it’s a non-issue. To those friends who are reading this, you know who you are. Thank you for your true friendship.

In my family, things have come full circle. My brother and I are now very close. He is fully accepting of me. He goes out of his way to openly make mention of this when we talk. My sister, on the other hand, has become more homophobic than ever, and she holds grudges for a lifetime. She had surgery on one of her knees a year or so ago. A couple of weeks ago, she had surgery on the other knee. When my brother told me this, I mentioned that I would like to send some flowers to wish her a quick recovery. He mentioned this to her. She responded, “Tell Bill to save his money.” And that was that. She seems consumed by hate and resentment. I say this not out of spite, but because I will not allow myself to feel hate. My offer to my sister was one of sincerity; an olive branch, if you will. I now know for certain that we will never talk again. Am I sad at this? I suppose at some level I am, but you have to keep in mind that we haven’t spoken since my mother’s funeral in 1984. So, it’s not as if I miss her company. I am a different person now - my own person. I left all the negative things in my life behind in Idaho, along with all the jokes, hatred, and people like my sister. She used to say, “Life is short. Make the most of it.” I did, and I am. She should do the same.

And that was my weekend. Not uneventful at all.