Essays: August 2004 Archives

Written on August 21, 2004 while on vacation in Idaho:

We are still in Boise and scheduled to fly out in a few hours. Kent is sleeping and I am wide awake thinking about many things. I'm reflecting on this trip that we've taken to our home state of Idaho. We met with old friends from college and just last night I met with my best friend in the world who I went to grade school, middle school, and high school with. We grew up together. He is like family to me. Yet, we haven't spoken for the last twenty years. It seems that our paths have gone in different directions. It's not that we have nothing in common. We talked last night and it's as if no time has gone by. Yet, for some reason we have lost touch with each other.

I'm left with the question, why? I've always told myself on so many occasions, "There is no 'why'", but I find the notion of leaving dear friends behind unsettling, when I value friendship above everything else. Should I be valuing friendship so highly, or should I focus more on my path in life and what I want to achieve? Is friendship really... real?

I say this because if it is real and has value, why is it so easily discarded? Or perhaps being friends with someone and being in touch with someone are different issues. If you don't see or talk to someone for twenty years for no apparent reason, is the friendship still maintained? It's a disturbing concept to me because I have many people in my life that I know. Some are people I work with, some I come in contact with through other people I know. Yet, they are just people that I meet, and go on about my life. I would expect these people to enter and leave my life because there is no real attachment to me.

Is friendship the same way? I've always put it on a higher pedestal than mere acquaintances, yet, it seems to be treated the same as acquaintances. People who I love and have shared so much with can go for years without contact with me. If emails or messages from me are not returned, I assume that there is no longer a desire for friendship. So, nothing happens and years go by. Does friendship matter any more in this world of ours, or has it been replaced by something else?

Written on August 13, 2004 while on vacation in Idaho:

Returning to Idaho has been hectic for us. When we got into Boise, we arranged to meet with friends and family. The friends we wanted to meet with were the easy ones. You pick and choose your friends. Family is a bit tougher. You are born into families, for good or bad. In my case, I didn't really know what to expect from my family. I haven't seen them for twenty years. We parted ways on less than optimal terms.

I first told a cousin that I was gay when I went to college. I think she already knew, and being of very liberal leanings, it was not a big issue for her. My cousin then told everyone else. I didn't ask her to tell people, but she did. My two aunts were another issue. One said that "God loved me anyway, even if it was against the Bible.", and the other one said, "Don't tell John (her husband, but not his real name) because he wouldn't understand, and whatever you do, don't tell your mother because it would kill her."

That was a real ego booster and made me feel very good about myself. The concept of a son being honest and trusting of his mother to tell her the truth was not something I thought of as being a bad thing. But apparently, to my family, the truth of what I was would kill her.

So, I did what any good son would do. I lied. I didn't tell my mother, and, I started distancing myself from my family. I didn't do it to hurt them. I did it because I was struggling to find some reason, any reason to feel good about myself at a time that I hated everything about myself. After that, I would often prey to God to change me and turn me into a decent person. At some point, my cousin wrote me a letter. I only remember one sentence in that letter today. It read, "You still have a family if you want one", meaning it was my fault that things weren't the same as in the past. All I had to do was choose them over my perversion and somehow God would take care of the rest.

That is when I made a decision. It didn't come easy and it didn't come overnight. Part of that decision was based on anger. Part of it was well thought out. In the end, how could I still be part of the family? It was conditional on lieing to the very people that were suppose to be accepting no matter what. I couldn't do that to myself. I also knew that if I had any hopes of spending my life with Kent, it couldn't be built on a lie. I no longer wanted to introduce him as "my friend". I no longer wanted to guard and filter everything I said when it came to who I was attached too. I no longer wanted to say "no", when asked if I had any girlfriends YET. He was more than that and our future depended on him being more than that.

So, here I am, twenty years later, about to meet them again. I didn't know what to expect. I was greeted warmly, and Kent was treated with kindness. He was introduced as "Bill's friend". Nothing had changed, nothing. Our relationship and all that had happened in the past was never mentioned. Everyone knew of the subjects to stear clear of. And what's the point of bringing up something that happened twenty years ago anyway?

The real shame of all of this is what has been lost. Truth, honesty. and my integrity were never compromised; lieing and deceit were. Because the relationship I would have had with my family depended on those lies, it was destroyed as well.

Despite all of that, it was as if they were trying to get reacquainted with a stranger. I might as well have been the next door neighbor they hadn't seen in twenty years. My aunts were exactly the same as I remembered them. My Aunt Verna and Aunt Patty were always fighting over one thing or another but now they had grown closer than I had ever seen them. My Aunt Verna told me that she had had cancer, and that was "real tough, let me tell ya". She said that she thought she was going to die there for awhile and give up. My Aunt Patty spoke up and said, "Yeah, and when she found out that none of us gave a shit, she decided to get better", with a smile on her face. Aunt Verna said, "Well hell yeah! If they weren't going to care, I thought I might as well stick around for another ten years and subject them to me!" It was funny, they were still the same.

Aunt Verna managed a big meal for all of us which was really nice. And they had a big ice cream cake that said, "Welcome Bill and Kent". It was all nice, but I felt as if I were being welcomed into someone's home who never really knew me. It was nice to see them, but sad in a way.

Yes, it was terrible that my family had that attitude and the rejection hurt like hell, at the time. But that was long ago, in my college years. I have always been strong and I came out of it in one piece with a renewed self reliance. Had things been different, had I been a fifteen year old boy with no where to go facing that kind of rejection from the people I loved most, I would probably be like so many other gay teens who never made it who are now lieing in their graves, and I wouldn't be sitting here today writing this.

Written on August 9, 2004 while on vacation in Idaho:

I went back to my hometown of Emmett, Idaho today. I dreaded going back. I knew I was going to possibly be confronted with my demons from the past. That's the risk you take for unconvering the past.

In 1978, I left with Kent to live in the San Francisco Bay Area while he was attending Stanford University. In 1984 my mother died. I returned to Emmett for her funeral. Kent did not go. To them, he was not part of my life. I went back home to California. We later moved to Connecticut. The only family member I stayed in contact with was my brother.

So, in present day, we are going back to Emmett. Twenty years have past since I've seen Emmett or any of my family. I was scared about going back to Emmett. I had heard that it had changed. What was once a valley filled with fruit orchards were now sub divisions and supermarkets. It had become a bedroom community for Boise, only 30 miles away.

We traveled across the desert and as we were about to descend down Freezout Hill, I asked Kent to turn left and take a small detour down the old Freezout Hill. It was very windy and in a short distance we got to the lookout. I was quiet as I looked out over the valley. The monument that once stood at the lookout had been removed for some reason. I was actually surprised that the old Freezeout Hill Road had been maintained and we could travel on it.

We went a short distance over to the right. Kent came over, and I became filled with emotion. I was fighting back tears. "This is where they threw me. This was it.", I told him. I couldn't talk anymore as we both looked down a steep slope off the lookout that ended in the canyon below. It was an old memory that I was now reliving, and it was vivid and still very raw.

In 1973 there were rumors around our school that I was "queer". I suffered a lot of harassment that year and the following year. This was one of the worst. After staying after school for practice in a play I was in, six boys ganged up on me after school. They said they were going to show me what happens to people like me. I was scared to death as these were the ring leaders that kept spurring others to continue the harassment at school day in and day out. It ranged from having my locker trashed, to having maneur placed in my locker, having someone mark "F A G" across the face of my locker in permanent marker, to being spit on. No one would have lunch with me. I was pretty much off-limits to anyone.

They drove up the old Freezeout Hill Road. We got to the summit where the lookout was. It started out with verbal harassment. I told them over and over that I wasn't gay. They kept going with it and finally, one of them threw the first punch. I went down, and all I could feel were the others kicking me while I was on the ground. I remember all the dust and how dirty it all was. I remember being put up on my feet and feeling sick to my stomach. Another blow came. I fell. My tooth was knocked loose and I could taste the very distinctive taste of blood in my mouth. I then threw up and start to cry. I said, "Please stop. I'll be different." I thought of my mother and how much I loved her. I thought of my family and wanted to be back with them.

I heard one of them say, "Well, I think we are done with him for now. I have to take a piss." I was thankful to be alive still. At least I thought I was alive. My mind told me, "You see. Everything is ok now. We made it through this one. I couldn't feel the rest of my body. It was strange. I looked at my hand, and I saw blood on it, and it was shaking uncontrolably. I thought, "that's really weird". It reminded me of how nervous I was before a recital. I would always shake. But this was different. It was stronger and I couldn't feel my hand or arm. I tried to get up off the ground and I couldn't. I hurt inside. I then felt warm liquid on me. I thought I might be in the shower getting ready for school. I started to think, "Did I finish that report that was due today for history?"

I looked up and I could see them still there, and the warm liquid I felt all over me was urine as they relieved themselves. It stung as it got in my eyes and I felt sick as they laughed about it. They finished, and one of them said, "Hey, let's throw him over". They grabbed me, pulled me up, and threw me over the side of the hill - the hill that today Kent and I were standing on. I rolled for a long time, forever it seemed. I came to rest against a shrub that prevented me from rolling further down the hill. I heard them get into their car and speed off. It was quiet. I passed out I believe. It was at night and the moon was out. The next thing I realized is that the sun was up. I climbed up the hill. I don't know how long it took. I would crawl for a few feet. I remember being sick and falling unconscious. I make it to the road and where I came up was where Kent and I were standing. I was thinking, "Bill, you've come full circle." It was a strange and terrifying experience. Many of the fears that were dormant for many years came back as though it was yesterday. And all I could say to Kent was, "This is where they threw me. This was it." I'm sure he probably didn't understand fully what I was talking about. There are a lot of those memories I haven't shared with him. I've purposely put them away in the past where they belong. Now, they were staring me in the face.

I didn't feel anger any longer. It was just overwhelming emotion. I wanted to leave this place. I felt sick inside. This place was sick. We left.

We continued on, driving back where we came from and continuing down the new Freezeout Hill. On the way down Freezeout Hill, I noted that what used to be a simple turnout was now a monument dedicated to the victims of 9/11. We stopped for a bit to read the dedication and was really touched by it. There was an American flag centered in this large star. Inside the star were bricks engraved with people's names. I'm not sure if they were the names of people who had died serving their country, or the names of those who had made a dedication to the monument. Perhaps both.

We drove through Emmett, and I was surprised at how much had changed. Gone was the charm of a small down. Those charms had been replaced by chain restaurants and different stores. Many of the familiar landmarks there during my childhood were gone. I was still amazed to find Roe Ann drive in that was always there during my childhood.

We continued out of town to where I used to live. The house is gone now. I hardly recognized it. We continued up towards this little park below the damn. It was a special place for me. When I was in high school. I would come to this remote park every Saturday afternnon, throw down my blanket on the lawn, and listen to Live from the Met. In the background, I could hear the faint roar of the water falling over the spillway, as I listened to opera. It took me away to my own place. I would say to myself, I want to go to New York City someday. It was a dumb dream. Everyone knew that no one from this town would want to venture out from Emmett, the home of the "Emmett Huskies", the "Valley of Plenty". For me, in my situation, it was a prison.

We walked over to this tree. I said outloud, "You've gotten bigger my friend. Do you remember me?", I said fondly. Kent said, "This has special meaning to you?" I said, "Oh yes. It was the tree that would shade me as I listened to opera all those years ago." I touched it and had fond memories of it, as I would an old friend. I didn't want to leave the park. It was about the only place that was mine, all mine. It was a tranquile place that offered me peace when I needed it most. We continued up the highway to see Black Canyon Dam. We stopped at one of the parks along the reservoir, but everything had changed so much.

Out next stop was the cemetary where my parents are buried. I realized while there that it was a beautiful cemetary. Every time I had been there was a time of pain. It's hard to see beauty when there is so much ugliness and pain around you. I felt no sorrow. Twenty years is a long time. We stayed a bit and entered town again.

For old time sake, I suggested that we eat at Roe Ann's. The food was as good as I remembered. They even had the phones that dropped down to each car that would drive in. You would get on the phone and call your order in. When I was a kid, it was the greatest. Since then, my taste buds have experienced the restaurants of San Francisco, and some fine restaurants in New York City. It was different now. I remembered the food vividly, but it was not so special now.

We finished, and continued down the road towards the highway. We passed Evans Realty on Washington Street on our way towards the highway. I realized after passing that this was the place that a high school friend worked. I stopped in, and went inside. I asked for him. They told me he was on the phone, but would be right out. It was then that I asked myself what I was doing there. I hadn't seen John for thirty years, and here I was just showing up at his place of work. He came out. I had my back to him. He said, "Hello, I'm John." I turned around, he paused for a moment and said, "Oh my God, It's Bill!" It was nice to see him again, but I quickly realized that I may have made a mistake. He was happy to see me and as he talked, it sounded like the John that I knew, even though his appearance was different. His hair was mostly gray now. We talked about all the stuff we did together as kids. The time we climbed to the top of the small butte. I thought about all that happened when we stayed on the top of that butte overnight, in our budding sexuality, things that it is understood as adults would never be talked about ever again. I loved him. When life became difficult for me at school and rumors were circulating about me being gay, all friendships distanced themselves from me. Eventually, we never talked again. I left Emmett, went to college, and set out in the world.

John said that he had married, and had two kids who are now adults and no longer at home. I knew he had married and had kids. When he asked if I had married, I started to think about how to tell him about my life and what came to mind was an old memory from high school. Someone said something to him in a joking manner about him liking me in school. John said, "I'm no queer!". With that memory, I said, "I have a partner." He looked at me a bit strangely. The topic was dropped and replaced with other meaningless diatribe. We said our goodbyes, and I left wondering if it was a good idea that we had stopped.

We left Emmett for the last time.