Essays: July 2004 Archives

I just woke up from a nightmare. Maxwell was there in short order to comfort me and assured me with his purr that he had control of any situation. That was comforting. I was wide awake. I looked at the clock hoping that it was at least 7:00am. No such luck. It said "05:32 AM". Yuck. So, I went to the bath room to "think". I often think that some of the world's deepest thoughts are conceived in the bath room.

I was so tired last night. I went to bed at 9:00. I know that's early, but why fight it if your body is telling you that it's tired? I had a migraine most of the day and was out of sorts. I stopped by Chili's on the way home for a bite to eat. It's not my favorite place, but it was just off the freeway and just about all I had energy for. I got home, fed the cats, and watched TV for awhile. But I still had this headache that I couldn't get rid of and I was tired.

I got into my usual night clothes (nothing), and went to bed. I turned on the TV to watch something, anything, until I got tired. Nothing of interest was on. It's funny, I have cable and get about 180 channels, and I was bored with it all. I turned the TV off and thought to myself that I'll never get to sleep. Before I knew it, I was having a dream about something that happened a long time ago. I was nine years old. The year was 1963. At that time, we were in the midst of the "Cold War" with Russia. Paranoia was high in our country. In fact, when I was born, the only thing they could give birthing mothers to calm them down and alleviate the pain was ether. It often made them nauseated. They gave ether to Mom to calm her down during the birth of me, and she recalled later that she thought the Russians were invading. Actually, I often have that effect on people, come to think of it. She also recalled that I was born during a big winter storm. I was born on December 31st. I was storming outside and lightening was everywhere. Just as I was born, according to Mom, the sky lit up with lightening with a huge clap of thunder and the electricity went out. All got quiet, except for my crying. She said it was eerie, and the people who took me away after birth she thought were Russians.

Later, when I was older, we would see a horror movie with the same sort of thing happening. The baby in the movie was born during a huge storm and as he was born there was lightening. His name was Damian, and he turned out to be the son of Satan. I assure you, we aren't brothers, although some in Emmett, Idaho have probably wondered about us from time to time. But I digress. Back to my dream...

I was nine years old. My brother and I went into town. We lived in a small town in Idaho called Emmett. It's somewhat isolated. It's 30 miles northwest of Boise, but in those days, 30 miles might as well have been another state over. We made it to Boise maybe once every two months. It was a big deal. Boise had around 70,000 people in it and was huge to us. Emmett only had around 3,000 people in it and we basically all knew each other, and each other's business.

My brother and I were always doing scientific experiments. We were sure that if we tried hard enough, we could invent something that would make the world a better place. So we went into Farber's Variety Store on Main Street. It was basically a 5-10 cent (damn, don't keyboards have the cent key anymore??!) store that had everything in it. We were fascinated at something new in the store that was the latest rave. It was an ant farm. We never did anything in moderation. We bought six of them! Each one was a complete kit. It included the ant farm, really fine sand, and the ants! You believe that? The ants even came with the kits. I don't remember how they kept them alive, but you never thought about things like that. We collected our kits and took them home.

We put the ants into their little containers, and we watched them start to make tunnels. I then started doing research on ants and found that in some ant communities, there were different "classes" of ant society. They seemed to be very ordered little creatures, with different individuals having different tasks to keep the society going. The ants we had were little tiny black things. We called them "piss ants" (don't ask my why - with so many other things in life during that era, it had no reason to it).

It was during my research of ants that I learned that many things have meaning to creatures, that we take for granted. For instance, scent is a big deal in much of the animal world. Eye contact in some species will say that you are making a challenge. If you don't believe me, go to a zoo and stare down a male leopard with an aggressive look. Just don't stand too close to the cage when you do it. Oh, and don't wear anything that doesn't wash well. You may have to put it through several washings to get the urine stains out. Coloring is another thing that can send clear signals to other species. A bright color can be a warning.

This is true with ants as well. I learned that different colorings could sometimes mean different aggressive behaviors in ants. For example, ants that were half black and half red were more aggressive than all black ants. And ants that were all red, were the most aggressive. This is not always the case, but in the ant species that we had access to in Emmett, it was the case. But alas, we just had little black "piss ants", and they were friendly to everyone. And, somewhat uninteresting. After a couple of weeks, we lost interest because they didn't do much. Everyone seemed to be pretty much equal and they went about their business.

We had the idea that it would be more interesting if we got the all red fire ants (we called them "war ants" - you have to remember, this was during the Cold War with Russia, and we were looking for a weapon that our country could use if we were invaded). This was no small feat. We knew of a fire ant colony a half mile from our home. Nothing went close to it and something instinctively told me to keep my distance as a kid, along with other animals. Nothing messed with them, until now. Of course, once we got there, I needed to test their aggression to make sure they were what we were looking for. I took a couple of them, and flicked them on my brother. They stung him, he started gasping for breath, and fell to the ground, saying, "I can't breathe!". I thought, "wow!", but then went back home to tell Mom that Mike needed medical attention. Once he was fixed up, he said, "They must have neurotoxin!!". We looked at each other and said, "WOW!". The test was a success. These ants had the aggressive nature required for our weapon testing. I suppose it's a good thing that cobras don't occur in Idaho.

We wrapped ourselves in saran wrap under our clothes to prevent ant stings (yes it was hot as hell), and went up to collect our ants. We collected thousands and ended up getting more ant farms for the ants. They were kept in our bedroom. We both slept in the same bedroom with our beds were separated by a divider. It had shelves on it and on each shelf was an ant farm. They built tunnels and each one had it's own little civilization. But then I got to thinking, for it to be complete, we need a queen to guide the colony. With much difficulty, we located a queen from the same colony. This was important. A queen from a different colony would have been rejected. So, one little ant farm was happy with their queen, but what about the other 15 farms that we had? They had no queen.

This is where the big breakthrough came. I came up with the world's first network! That's right! I had the idea that if we could some how connect the individual farms together, they could all function as one, and the queen would be in charge of all. We did this with soda straws, and a wood burner set. We would heat the hot iron of the wood burner, and melt a hole into each farm. We covered the hole with tape. When we got all the individual farms done, we started connecting each one to the other one with straws that connected to each hole in each farm. We did this slowly, so that the proper negotiations could take place. The ants had to recognize that the next farm introduced in the network was from the same colony so that everyone would "play nice". Eventually, they were all networked into this complex array of little farms making this huge ant metropolis. It was an beautiful thing. And, with these ants, you could definitely see the different hierarchy's of their work force.

All was well. We had a few bumps in the road. Mom kept harping at us that she didn't want insects in the house because the "freaked her out" and made her "uneasy". We assured her that we had containment and that all was well. Then one night, I woke up with a searing headache. It turned out that I had a red ant in my ear canal who was trying to dig a hole into my ear. Yes, it hurt like hell. Luckily he didn't sting me. When Mom looked in my ear, she place a cotton swab into my ear, and the ant crawled out on the swab. I told her, "Well, we have around 75,000 members of our ant community. Missing one of them was not so bad.

Then one day, it happened. Mike wanted me to play football with him. He would throw the ball to me, I would catch it. He would run back and I would throw it back to him. We were doing this in the house. Yes, we were told never to do that, but hell, we never listened. I remember it vividly. It was like it was all in slow motion. He threw the ball to me. I missed it. It was heading directly for the center colony in the ant metropolis that we created. I could stop it. The ball hit the center farm, and all of them fell. When they hit the floor, they fell apart. Suddenly, we had 75,000 pissed off red war ants looking for someone to kill!

Mom, came in after hearing the crash. My brother and I watched in horror, saying nothing. My Mom started to preach to us about why this is why she asked us not to play ball in the house. We both looked at her in horror. She stopped talking, seeing the look on our faces. We screamed at her at the same time, using the same words, "WE'VE LOST CONTAINMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!". She didn't know what the hell that meant. She was doing laundry, after all. I started screaming, "Evacuate! Evacuate!". My brother and I started to running down the hallway to get out of the house. She dropped the laundry that was in her arms, and just stood there screaming. I yelled back to her from the end of the hallway, "If you want to LIVE, Evacuate NOW!!!". We all ran out of the house.

That was the end of the ant farm. We had to have the "county extension agent" (why would they call them that?) come out and fumigate the house. It took us forever to clean up our little dead ant soldiers.... very sad. It was a sad day for us, and our country that lost a powerful weapon.

A few weeks later, my brother came into our room and saw me reading a book. He asked what I was reading. I responded with a question, "Where can we get 'enriched uranium'?"

I remember a time in America when people could agree to disagree on some issue without it being personal. Perhaps the reason I have that memory is because the issues being decided didn't directly effect me. It's easy to make decisions about other people if the decision you make doesn't affect you personally.

It's easy to sit back and say, "I don't favor black children going to the same school as white children." Never mind that the schools the black children were left with were inferior because of lack of funding on the part of others. And did the majority really care? After all, being well educated is power.

So today, we have the likes of U.S. Senator Rick Santorum trying to make the argument that “the future of our country hangs in the balance because the future of marriage hangs in the balance”, if we allow gays access to marriage. There are many like him. Senator Frist is the same way. And when I listen to them talk, I want to believe that they don't hear what they are saying, or that they don't understand just how dehumanizing it is.

I have stopped watching all debates on same sex marriage, because it simply drags me down too much. I realize that there is nothing I can do to change their minds. I am all I have and the truth of the matter is, they don't care about me or "my kind". It serves no purpose for me to listen to their debate on how evil I am and how I’m dragging my country down. It is personal because we are real people.

I listen to people say that our struggle is not the same as that of the black community. The argument is that they were "born that way", so it's wrong to discriminate against them. Well excuse me, but I was born gay also. But, there's no way for me to prove it to them, because they don't care and they've made up their minds. They really have no interest in what I have to say.

My country has a President now who values me less a citizen than straight people. That is how I feel. I want to ask, where did my country go? What happened to it? I didn't ask my President to make this statement:

What they do in the privacy of their house, consenting adults should be able to do. This is America. It's a free society. But it doesn't mean we have to redefine traditional marriage. - President George W. Bush

I love the way he says "they", as though I'm not a part of regular society. It makes me sick. So what do I do? I take pictures, I go to the movies, I compensate for all the shit that they say about me and people like me. I buy things for my home and for people I love, so that I won't have to listen to or buy into their bullshit that I'm less worthy of their acceptance.

Marriage is so messed up now, I honestly don't understand what their problem is. Over 50% end in divorce before their ten year anniversary.

Look at the biggest defender of the "sanctity of marriage in Indiana," former Republican gubernatorial candidate Eric Miller, who has publicly acknowledged a divorce in his past.

When Indiana House Republicans held up proceedings for several days on the floor last winter, I asked their media staff how many members of the GOP caucus had been divorced. I was told that it wasn't "relevant." *

It's not relevant to them because they don't want to put a spot light on their failed marriages. It's not relevant to them because the only relevant issue to them is to beat us down so we will never know what true equality feels like.

And here's the clincher. Most people in the black community will not support us on this. They know what it feels like to be treated like second class citizens. They know what it feels like to be beaten down all the time. They know what it feels like to fight for equal rights. But most will make the same arguments against gay marriage that I've stated above. I suppose it's no longer their problem to deal with, so why should they care about us?

Last night on television, there was an interview of one black minister who advocated that gay couples should be allowed to legally marry. He made the case that it was hypocritical for the black community to turn it's back on our desire for equality. "Here, we have gay people singing in our choirs, playing musical instruments for our services, and adding their many gifts to our congregation. We are more than willing to accept these gifts, but when it comes to allowing them full access to the joys of life, companionship, and what it takes to make a human being whole, we deny them this."

In an attempt to avoid the issue of giving us full equality, some who in the past didn't want to give us anything, are now deciding that "civil unions" are the way to go, to keep us from having full marriage.

Senate Judiciary Committee Chairman Orrin Hatch (R-Utah), a supporter of amending the Constitution, told the Senate that same-sex couples should be able to live together like married people, should have insurance and estate benefits like married people, and should be able to visit and care for each other in hospitals like married people. [...]

"We ought to be able to solve those inadequacies in the law without changing a 5,000-year-plus definition of marriage." (source)

The problem Senator is that all the years this was happening to gay couples you and people like you DID NOTHING. You knew that partners were being denied visitation rights to their sick partners in hospitals. You knew that partners were not even able to make final arrangements when one of the partners would die. You knew that people were losing what they had built up together as a couple after the death of one of the partners, and you did nothing.

None of this is news. All of you in congress knew this grim crap was happening to gay couples, AND YOU DID NOTHING. You didn't care. Now that it looks as if we have a chance at what you, Britney Spears, and the rest of society take for granted, now and only now are you willing to consider "civil unions"?

And next week, as though you haven't finished your gay bashing, there's round two...

Coming next week will be U.S. Rep. John Hostettler's "jurisdiction stripping" bill that would bar federal courts from hearing lawsuits related to gay sex and marriage.

Lost in all this "defense" of the institution of marriage are the real people out there. Gay men and women who are willing to make a commitment to each other. When they do, I don't see how it impacts me or my family. I don't care what they do in their bedrooms. The gay people I know, other than the sexual activities I never see, are so much like me and other people I know.

The sensible compromise here would be to give them "civil unions," that would afford folks property and other family rights involving benefits (as many of our Indiana corporations already do), power of attorney and latitude to make deathbed decisions on behalf of someone they love. *

There are a few obvious problems with civil unions. The first most obvious one is that they probably wouldn't even come near allowing all the protections of civil marriage. Are civil unions going to give me and my partner the over 1,000 federal rights and 655 state rights of marriage?

And, would the Federal Government stand behind and honor civil unions for gay couples? We all know the answer to that question. No one is being fooled here, and I’m tired of smoke screens and the insincere "civil union" bone being thrown our way. It is personal, and it hurts.

Source of entries marked with '*'

It's 5:00 on a Saturday morning. I woke up from a bad dream and couldn't fall back to sleep. So, I got up, put on my most comfortable night shirt, went downstairs and brewed a nice hot cup of Earl Grey tea, with just the right about of honey, made from our own Coventry bees (we're very proud of our local bees here).

I'm sitting here writing this upstairs in our family room. We have a large window looking towards the east. The sun is just beginning to rise and I'm seeing the first signs of light and life -- my cat (Maxwell) just entered the room, yawned, stretched, scratched his butt, and look at me to say, "Why are you up so early?" It's so quiet here.

I dread today. Kent is leaving for another trip this afternoon. I hate it when he travels, especially overseas. I know it's just my irrational fear of what could happen, but it's real to me. There are so many evils in this world and so many unknowns. Don't get me wrong, I love traveling a lot. But, I like going with him, as though I could protect him if something should happen. At least, it would happen to the both of us. And with my Irish fighting spirit, who knows, I might be able to stop a war. He's leaving this afternoon for Boston, then he's off to Frankfurt, Germany. From there, off to his final destination of Faro, Portugal. He will come home next Saturday. I had talked about going with him, but can't be away that much. We are going to Idaho for two weeks August 7th, after all.

Me, I'm a person who, at least in our personal every day lives, likes predictability. I'm past the age of wanting something new in my life or the need to try something different. I like knowing that he's going to be there every morning when I wake up, that the lawn has to be mowed every weekend, and that we plan to go see a certain movie that just came out. That's not to say that we are the same. It is the difference between us that makes it all work. It is the fact that we can be having a conversation, and I will say something to him that will simply blow him away, just to prove a point. He will respond by saying, with a big smile on his face, "Where the hell did that come from?" I will explain and tie it all together for him. He will look at me with so much love in his eyes and say to me, "You have a very creative mind."

I've come to realize that I look at life a lot differently from most people. Your own life you can weave into what you want it to be. It can take years for you to understand what you want that to be, because we are ever changing. That's all for the good. I was miserable as a young man. I've grown into happiness. Knowledge of myself, and the situation around me has made me the person I am today. You can dwell on what could happen, you can only effect what is happening now. I'm reminded of when I took Taekwondo. I wasn't that good, but there were lessons learned that were very valuable to me. It turns out that the man I took Taekwondo from was Korea's national champion for six years running when he was younger. He was awesome to watch.

He would give us our lessons, then talk to us about life and philosophy. Then, he would show us the history of what he covered in the lessons. Some of the movements seems dumb to me, but in application, they became much different. With force and grace, the moves became deadly instruments of self defense.

I took Taekwondo because I was afraid of being beaten up again. I couldn't fight. I never knew how. I thought this would be something that would be useful for me. So, when Master Kim asked me why I was there, I told him, "I want to learn to defend myself so no one can ever hurt me again." He told me, "I can teach you Taekwondo, but nothing will stop others from hurting you. You will have to find the path to happiness yourself. It is a journey that only you can take." I thought at the time, "This guy's full of crap, but can he fight?" But I told him, "Ok. When can we start?"

After months of training, I began to feel something gradually change in me. I began to feel confident and powerful. I was teaching other beginning students the forms and techniques of Taekwondo. Then, I would be called into my regular class. What I hated was being called up to fight with Master Kim. It was alway a demonstration of some technique. On one occasion, he was holding these styrofoam bats. The exercise was one of blocking the bats so that they didn't hit vital parts of your body. Of course, I was awful. He beat the hell out of me with the bats. Had they been real bats, I would have been a bloody mess. Then, he provoked me. He came up to me as though he knew what had happened in my past, pulled back my hair, pointed to one of the scars on my head that was the result of being hit with a pipe when I was beaten in my youth, and said to me, "This will happen to you!". He then beat me again, and I could do nothing. All of this in front of the class. I was angry and getting more angry by the minute.

He then dropped the bats, came up to me, looked me right in the eye and said, "Let it go. Let all of it go. You and your body are nothing. They cannot be touched. Clear your mind. They are nothing. Look at me, in my eyes and you will know the truth." I know it makes no sense here and now, as I am writing about this. But, when you've been beaten twice by those bats and are worn down, everything changes. He picked up the bats again, and went into combat form. The attack was coming, and I was calm. I looked into his eyes, and as he charged towards me, I remained still and standing in the same spot. As he hit me with the bats, I blocked everything with both my arms and my legs. He could not touch me. He stepped back from me and said, "OHHHHHHH!!!!!!" He looked at the class who were somewhat in shock. He looked at me, and I was in a peaceful place. The combat was there, but I was not part of it. He taught me that day that the conflict and me, were not the same. That was the lesson that day. He said, "If the conflict and you become the same, the battle is already lost."

Another day, we paired up. We were always put with someone of equal size, except on this day. I was put with someone of higher rank and much bigger. I looked concerned. I said, "But Master Kim, he is so much bigger than I am". Master Kim snapped back with, "Size mean NOTHING! Judge me by my size do you"? He was a small man, I would say 5 foot 5 inches, if that. He then called all of his best students out on the mat who surrounded him in a large circle. He told us that size was irrelevant in the equation. What mattered was inner peace and balance - always balance. There must always be balance. I'm thinking to myself, "Ok, but the guy out weighs me by one hundred pounds and is ten inches taller than I am, and he out ranks me in technique."

Master Kim then looked at his black belts. There were about twelve of them. He then said to them, "Attack me!". They looked at each other not knowing exactly what to do. He repeated the demand with more force, "Attack me!!!". They all rushed in and piled on top of him in a big huddle. I actually thought he was hurt. Then, all the sudden, I heard a loud yell. He emerged from the center of the huddle. The black belts flew threw the air and away from him. He jump up I would say ten feet in the air, and when he came down he landed on one foot. The other leg was bent and his arms were extended like a crane. It was like a graceful bird who was about to take flight. When he landed on his foot, there was no struggle for balance. It was like a ton of bricks falling in absolutely one place. The black belts on the floor were seeing stars as they shook their head to try to steady themselves. Master Kim stood there for all of a minute at peace. We looked on in disbelief. He then turned to the class and said, "If you are balanced, nothing can touch you. This is true in all of life." That was the end of the lesson.

My final days of Taekwondo became personal for me. I did my warm ups, and prepared for class. I was paired up with a new guy in class. I had never seen him before. He was stocky and somewhat bigger than myself. We were doing non-contact sparring. You go through the motions of the different techniques that you have learned, but you can never touch your partner. The only times that was allowed was when you were wearing protective body armor. On this day, we were not, so contact was not allowed.

The guy I was paired with was a jock-type and very arrogant. He told me as we were sparring that he was doing this to see if there was anything to it. He said, that he was a boxer and loved street fighting. He told me as we were going through the moves, they he enjoyed going out and beating up guys who he thought were were sissies, just for sport.

I stopped fighting with him and asked Master Kim for a new partner. The request was denied. The guy then started teasing me about me being one of those guys that he would like to beat to a pulp. I concentrated on getting through the exercise and tried to ignore what he was saying. Then it happened. He came in with a full punch to my right shoulder. I fell to the ground. Master Kim immediately came over, looked at him and said, "No contact!". The guy nodded. I got up, looked at the guy and said, "What the hell's your problem? We can't touch. I want to just get through this." He looked at me and said, "Yeah well, to get through this you may have to come through me." I said nothing. He them lunged at me, and ran his fist into my stomach and knocked my legs our from under me. I hit the mat hard and the breath was knocked out of me. Again, Master Kim came over and told him that he must stop with the contact. Master Kim then offered his hand to help me up off the mat. When I was up on my feet, Master Kim looked at me and said, "You must defend yourself, of course." I looked at him puzzled. What did that mean. I took it to mean, that if my partner wasn't going to abide by the rules, why should I?

We sparred some more. Again my opponent charged at me. It was different though. This time, he was the one who had beaten me so many years ago. I felt rage and anger boil up. Old rage that I thought was gone came back. I was moving on my feet and was defending myself. But I suddenly felt the incredible rush of adrenaline hit. Suddenly my legs and arms felt hard and I felt weightless. It was an incredible feeling of power. And, mentally, I wanted to take this guy out. He swung at me. By the time his fist had reached it's target, the target had moved. But I had a target. I hit him hard in his sternum. He fell to the mat trying to gain his breath. I moved in for the kill. I put my right knee on his chest, drawing my right arm back and opening my hand. The full move was a full strike with the palm of my hand to his nose. It would have been a devastating blow that would probably have resulted in death. As I was coming down, I could see my actions, but I couldn't stop. A yell came out of my mouth and everyone in the room stopped their fighting. The yell was rage and hate. In the journey my hand took towards his face, it was interrupted by Master Kim. He grabbed my hand and pushed my balance off and I fell on the mat. I immediately came back up and went into fighting stance against Master Kim. It was as if I was saying, "This is mine! Don't stop me." Master Kim could read that, and gave me a warning to stop and to go to the corner. The corner was where you were sent for disobeying an order, or to cool off. I reluctantly went to the corner for the remainder of the class.

At the end of the class, as we were leaving, Master Kim looked at me and said he wanted to talk to me in his office. I was thinking I was in bad trouble. When I went in, he asked me to sit. I did. He looked at me, and took a deep breath. He then said, "Anger", shaking his head. "Anger is the worst of all enemies because it consumes everything. Your enemy today was your past." I said, "I would have won!" Master Kim said, "Yes, you would have won. But won what? A victory? If you would have won, you would have lost, because you would have become your enemy." I thought about that, and realized that there was so much I hadn't dealt with in myself. Tears started running down my cheeks but I tried not to cry. Master Kim looked at me and said, "Let it go. You are not in that place anymore." I composed myself, got up to leave, opened the door, and he said, "One more thing." I turned around and looked at him and he said with a big smile on his face, "Good punch!!". I smiled back, and went home.

I remember as a young man watching the movie Ordinary People. In the movie, towards the end, the boy's mother leaves his father. The boy's father looks at his son and says, "Don't put too much stock in people. They'll disappoint you." It's true. Most people I've come across in life have been a disappointment to me. The movie had a strong impression on me because at the time I saw it, I was going through a lot of the same feelings the boy in the movie was going through.

At the time I watched that movie, I had moved to San Mateo, California from Idaho, with Kent. Kent was attending Stanford University in Palo Alto. I got a job working for the College of Notre Dame in Belmont California.

It was a Catholic school. I was very closeted at the time and was therefore able to keep my job at the school. It also offered me some flexibility in the hours I worked. I was studying to be a musician at the time. It allowed me to practice during some mornings and not show up for work until 10:00am. In return for this, I had to do my job, of course, and when controversial subjects such as gay rights or abortion came up, I kept my mouth shut.

It was during this time that San Francisco Supervisor Harvey Milk and San Francisco Mayor George Moscone were assassinated by Supervisor Dan White. Harvey, being an openly gay man, came up in the course of discussion among the staff at the college. Most felt that it was terrible that the Mayor was killed, but others felt that Harvey's life was not worth so much because he was a homosexual. I said nothing. One woman that I worked with who was married with three kids said with disgust, "Well, I'm sure that both men wanted to keep their lives! What White did was wrong!" I was thankful that she had the courage to say what I could not say. She could get away with saying it because she was Catholic and obviously not a homosexual. I didn't want to loose my job because we both needed this job.

I was also deeply depressed at the time. My ego was non-existent. I was even wondering if there was a reason for going on. I couldn't be myself. I hated what I was. I remember going to the library at the college. All the books dealing with homosexuality were on the top shelves so you had to ask to see them, and judging from the titles that I could see, none of them painted homosexuality in a good light. Also, I noticed that just being in that section that people were looking at me in a funny way.

Finally, I left that section. I went to another section dealing with depression. I remember checking this book out and I remember the exact title, because the title described exactly how I was feeling. The title was "Hopelessness". I checked it out, and as I was leaving, the girl behind the counter who was a student looked at me and said, "I hope it gets better." I don't know why she said that to me, unless I was wearing the emotion on my face. I responded, "I don't think this is going to get better. She replied, "I'm sorry." I left.

I would sit in their garden which was very nice, for hours, wondering what my future would be, if I had one. I would meditate and tell myself that I had some purpose in the world and that despite being homosexual, my life was worth living, although, I didn't honestly believe that. That was the place I was in. Some student on campus once said, "Homosexuals are going to hell." I blurted out without thinking that I might give away my cover, as though I knew what I was talking about, "Perhaps they are already living in Hell on this earth."

That was what life was like then, not only for me, but many young gay people, and it wasn't that long ago. The suicide rate was high, and no one really cared because we were hated. But it was a different kind of hate. It's the kind that Oscar Wilde experienced. It was the "love that dare not speak it's name". Everyone despised it and in their silence and reluctance to talk about what "those people" were going through, it only added to the disgust that people felt for homosexuals. You think those days are gone? Have you looked lately at the political landscape in places like Georgia, Ohio, Kansas, Idaho, Missouri, Virginia, just to name a few places in this country?

We moved to San Francisco. I realized that the only way I could live was to feel better about myself. And, in San Francisco, I was around people like myself - outcasts from society. Many had been kicked out of their homes. Many fled to San Francisco for safety; safety from their families and society. Many just wanted to have people around who cared and were going through the same thing. It was the beginning of an awakening for me. I started to learn who and what I was. I started to learn that the true evil wasn't me. The true evil was ignorance and the lack of willingness to learn from others.

Today I tell young people who are depressed and wanting to give up that I do understand. I also understand that in the place they are at, my words do little for them. They are consumed with self-hatred and depression. I can only tell them, that if they will give life a chance, it can be very good. I'm glad I didn't give up. I would have missed so much.

Today, I still get depressed at times. The difference from today and when I was young, is that the depression isn't consuming. It is also a different kind of depression. I get depressed because people cannot see us for what we are. They still want to hold on to old beliefs about our community. You know, they used to say that homosexuals lacked the ability to form lasting relationships, as though it was a mental illness. Many still think it is a mental illness. But today, we are in a fight for gay marriage. Now, their arguments have changed. They no longer say that we are unable to form lasting relationships, they now say that the "sanctity of marriage" must be protected. If I were a preacher, I would say something along these lines:

It seems to me that we tell homosexuals that they are unable to form lasting relationships, and when they do, we tell them that they shouldn't form lasting relationships. It seems to me that homosexuals are damned if they do and damned if they don't.

So where are we at today? Today, we are claiming what is ours. We are claiming our slice of the pie. People are responding, "how dare they?". We dare to do this because people like me are sick and tired of being.... sick and tired. We are sick of the crap we have been fed all our lives to keep us down. We are sick of feeling like we are sick. We are sick of others making us feel like we are less for their own gain, morally and politically.

We are exposing the truth of what we are and what we want. We want equality. Absolutely nothing less will be adequate. Not just for marriage. We want to feel whole. We want to feel like this is our life too, this is our nation, this is our world. We love our friends, we are committed to our partners, we are committed to our families, and we are not only going to show the world what we are, but we are going to demand that the world honors that.

We do this for ourselves. But mainly, we do it so that the young, frightened people who come after us won't have to feel that suicide, depression, and self loathing is going to consume their lives. They need to know that they do not have to let their souls suffer at the hands of ignorant fools who care nothing for them.

There is so much more to life. It's time to seize what is rightfully ours! IT'S TIME TO LIVE!

There's a place my family used to go when I was a kid. It's a place we went to be happy, as a family, my mother, my stepfather, and myself. We were so happy. We had each other.

This place we would go is called Sagehen Reservoir, in Idaho. We would leave on Friday, and come home Sunday. I don't remember much about the reservoir. I remember it taking what seemed like forever to get there. We would drive on a dirt road that went along farms, and valleys, and then a high cliff just before we got there. I remember that especially because I kept thinking about what would happen to us if we went off the road. At the bottom of the cliff, several hundred feet down, was a river, that I suppose flowed out of the reservoir. We didn't speak much getting there. We all wanted it to be a nice trip. We had a camper that we used. It was nothing special. It was on a pick up. It had two beds and could hold three to four people.

We got there safely, and set up camp. That consisted of not much really. I believe turning on the gas for the stove and heater was about it. My stepfather did all of that. This was up in the Idaho mountains and it did tend to get cold at night. He came in and we talked for awhile.

He would talk to me, but I could always tell that he didn't like me. He would make little comments here and there about how he didn't think I liked girls, in a joking way. I was a fifteen year old boy. I didn't process his insults too much, other than my knowing that he didn't like me. I remember knocking on their bedroom door once. He said, "Come in." I entered. They were in bed. I asked if I could have my allowance early because a friend of mine wanted to go to see a movie, and I needed it to buy my ticket. He gave me my allowance, which consisted of $2.50 a week. He was naked. It was actually the first time I saw him naked. I looked away and he said while looking down at his penis, "I suppose you want this, don't you?" I was embarrassed. I took my money from his hand and ran out of the room. I think it was actually the first time that I had seen a man naked. I didn't know what to make of it.

Camp was set up, and as the sun was setting, Mom was getting dinner ready. She asked me to get something out of one of the cupboards. I got up and reached for the handle on the cupboard. My stepfather was standing in front of it. I tried to open it but it was stuck. Suddenly, it did open and it nicked my stepfather's glasses. With that, he retracted his arm, he swung at me. The back of his hand struck my face. I fell backwards, hitting the door to the camper. It swung open and I fell out onto the ground, knocking the breath out of my body. He came to the door and screamed at me, "And don't come back in!" I was shaking and in shock. I'll I could say was, "I'm sorry." It all happened so fast. I never saw any of them coming. Not this one, and not the others. And there were so many others. They were all the same pattern. I would do something to set it off. I didn't mean to, but it was mostly my fault. I would later apologize to him and would say, "I'll try to be better. I promise I'll try to be a better son." It was never good enough.

As I lay there on the ground, I realized that I had just missed a pine tree that I landed next to. I was thinking that I was lucky that I missed the tree. Then, I felt the taste of blood in my mouth. I hate that taste. It tastes like iron. I realized that one of my teeth was knocked loose and the blood was from my lip being cut by the tooth. I remember being upset that I would have to go in to see the dentist when I got home. Would I have enough money from my allowance for the dentist, or maybe I could just pull the tooth out myself? My brother and sister had such expenses covered for them. That was before he came along. He had a thing about making sure I paid for all of my expenses myself. Kind of Joan Crawford-ish, I suppose. But I was only 15 years old. I'm not complaining, mind you. It made me tough to face what I had to endure later; things that I would never be able to imagine at my young age. It wasn't that I didn't have money. My father died with I was six years old. I received around $100 a month from his Social Security check, but I always had to sign it over to my stepfather. He would put it into his account, along with his other money for safe keeping for me and Mom. I would get $2.50 a week from it.

I got up off the ground after he slammed the door to the camper. There was no dinner for me that night. They continued to fight throughout the evening, then it got quiet. Mom threw a blanket out on the ground, I'm sure without his knowledge. I think she was afraid of him getting angry again. I understood. I tried to get into the cab of the pickup, but he had locked the doors. Night came. I had no matches to start a fire. I could smell the propane gas burning from the furnace inside. I never thought about what spent propane gas smelled like until that time. When your mind has time to think on different things, it will take a lot of time and energy devoting itself to analysis of just about anything. My mind went from thinking about the smell of the expended propane to wondering what animals would be wondering around at night in the woods. I could hear things moving as night set in. Then, it was quiet. It was very very quiet.

After awhile I could hear them getting ready to go to bed. I waited until it was quiet, and I went to the door, quietly, to open it. It was locked. When I thought things were as bad as they were going to get, it started raining. We had a thunderstorm and a rained heavily. I crawled underneath the truck for shelter and wrapped the blanket around me. It was cold. It was so cold. It was a good thing I didn't know about hypothermia then because it would have just been one more thing on my mind.

It stopped raining mid-morning, around two in the morning I would guess. Perhaps later. I lost track of time. I remember seeing the first signs of sunlight through the trees and being relieved that soon it would be warmer. The air smelled so clean. An hour or so later, I could hear activity in the camper. They were getting up. I wondered if I would be invited in for breakfast. I was so hungry.

Breakfast didn't happen. They got up. My stepfather gathered everything up quickly. He was mad again. I didn't know if he was still mad at me, or if this was new. I stayed out of his way. I said nothing. I asked my Mom what was going on. She told me, "We are going home." He took a Percodan. He took them often throughout the day for back pain. I always welcomed seeing him take them because it made things better for us. I would sneak some from time to time. It made me feel better inside about my world, about my existence. It made it so I could be in a nice place, at least for awhile, even if it wasn't real.

After everything was packed up, we got in the pickup, again not saying anything. As we left Sagehen, he drove like a madman. When we got to the canyon where the cliff was, I thought that we may go off the edge because the truck was skidding around the corners. My mom turned to him and said, "If you are going to drive like this, stop the car and let Bill and me out." With that, he stepped on the brake bringing the car to a halt. He looked at her and said, "Get out." The look on my mother's face was disbelief. I could see her weighing the risk of staying in the picking, or waiting for someone to come by who could help us. There was no one else. It was off-season. We had been the only people in the campground all night long. We were alone. We stayed in the pickup, because we both knew he would leave us behind, and say nothing to anyone on where we were.

We got home a couple of hours later. I went to my room and shut the door, only coming out for meals, and only spoke when spoken to. I took one of his pills. Life was back to normal. We were happy again.