Seasons of Life/Change

Well, in the last few weeks since my last post, a lot has changed.

I have entered into yet another new season of life and to be honest, ready or not, here it comes.

Let me explain.

Since writing beginning this blog, it seems I have bobbed and weaved from one taumatic event to the other. In fact, this blog was born in the midst of trauma, drama, and all that stuff. It seems that all those are my constant companions. But, as I look back on it all, I have to say that the things I have gone through, painful as they may have been, have made me a much better human being...

With all that said, I had a difficult time through the holidays. It was the first time I have celebrated Christmas without my parents. The grief hurt so bad I felt as though I was going to die.

I survived.

Following Christmas, I spent time with Bob in Williamsburg, VA. It was my Christmas present he said. He paid for everything. I fought with him over meals...and things like that...but for the most part, it was his show. Then one morning he came out of his room with a gift bag. (Yet more gifts!) It contained a really nice candle...and a note that he wanted to take me to the Kennedy Center for some show.

More expenditures.

Coupled with all of this....we had some very painful discussions. At least to me they were painful. He wanted to know if there were any men in his congregation that caught my eye....and I said no. He also showed me pictures of the guys who he has dated...but for some reason or another "the chemistry was not right."

He asked me what kind of man I was looking for. I told him that I had some high standards...but first and foremost, the person had to be a man of faith.

"What's your type?" I asked.

"Can't you tell by the guys I showed you pictures of?" he responded.

"Well, Bob, to be honest, the only commonality I see is that they are all men!"

They were all over the map....I couldn't tell. Honestly...and I tried.

We returned home on New Year's Eve.

So I have continued to spend time with him....and share meals with him....and talk with him on the phone....but I just don't know where the journey is leading....and to be honest, I am quite tired of it all. I feel I need to make some spiritual adjustments...and make some more changes before I am ever ready for a boyfriend, partner, husband or whatever.

My son the Marine, left for Afghanistan on January 19. However, on the date of that last entry, he drove with me to pick up his sister at the airport. He dropped a bomb. He has succeeded in getting a girl pregnant. She is due in July. I will soon get to list GRANDFATHER in my list of accomplishments. He wound up marrying the girl on January 12. She is a lovely sweet young girl....one year older than him. So I now have a new DAUGHTER-IN-LAW.

Then, on my trip to Camp Lejeune to see my son off, I had to stop by Lovey's house to give her a ride. I even got to spend the night in her home...with my daughter Jessica. As we were preparing to leave...and I went into the room to pic up my daughter's things, I noticed a man's picture.....a very large picture sitting on Lovey's nightstand. "Nice picture I said. Who's the guy?"

In an embarrassed little look, and in an almost little-girl like response, "That's Larry. He's my friend."

Over the course of the next 5 hours, I learned that Larry is more than a "friend"...but he is more like "suitor". Marriage has been discussed. At some points Lovey was her same sweet snippy self. During that long conversation, I did learn some new things about my former beloved.

1. I am glad she is not in my life in any real capacity.
2. I am glad she has her a boyfriend.
3. She continually rewrites history to keep her conscience clear.

That last point was demonstrated by the fact that she totally disavowed any knowledge of writing any hateful emails telling me that she would no longer have anything to do with me....and that I should only contact her about the eventual passing of my folks. I reminded her of how she had outted me to everyone in her life....which she says she never did.

Driving down the road to Camp Lejeune in my car she basically told me all of my many faults and failures as a husband....and how "Larry" was so much better. Oh she said these things so very subtly...but the message was clear. But for the first time, it didn't hurt. I felt like Teflon. Clearly the woman lives in a fantasy land of the world of her choosing.

Everything is everyone else's fault.

But in actuality, I am happy to be alive....to have survived it all....and now I am excited about the arrival of my first grandchild in the summer.

Lovey is history. No longer painful history.

Just history.

Then There is Bob...

The Christmas season is soon upon me and I am just not in the spirit. I had some special Chrstimas Cards created and personalized. I've been working on getting them signed and sealed. But I have so many....and I'm not complaining. It's neat to have so many that are so interested in my life...but...it's still work!

Work continues to be filled with the drama that only an office can provide. Lots of ungrateful people...who don't seem to understand what a blessing it is at this time of the year especially, to have a job and a steady paycheck.

My kids are gathering from Christmas. They are at my house....and I am going to savor every moment with them that I can. My daughter from Nashville arrives tonight. My military son arrived yesterday afternoon. I'm taking off tomorrow to spend time with the daughter who arrives tonight. Somewhere in here I hope to get my Christmas shopping complete.

With the loss of my parents, it feels basically like I am wondering in a fog. When I look at the Christmas imagery....and hear the carols...I feel numb. It means nothing. I have no Christmas cheer.

And then there is Bob...

Still driving this bus......still headed in God knows what direction....

Our trip is coming next week. I look forward to being with him and seeing him totally in a relaxed situation. I am praying that somewhere sometime during this trip I get a glimmer of where the bus is headed.

He called me on the telephone this passed Saturday....kept me on the phone for over an hour. (We've not been able to communicate very much because of the season. He is swamped totally and being pulled in 50 different directions -- all at once!)

So we chatted about everything. And then he brought up the resort...

We have a one bedroom unit he says.... "I hope you don't mind, but it actually sleeps 4! There's a couch that lets out to a full size bed. I'm used to sleeping there," he said. "You'll have some privacy, " he added.

Hmmm, I thought. We're both grown men....and I'm not going to jump his bones... I'm not worried about the privacy issue.... I would have no problems with him sleeping in the same bed...I can behave. He doesn't have to sleep on one of those fold out beds!

So, in some respects...it bums me out that he feels he has to do that. On the other hand, something has made him think about these issues.

I just wonder what he's thinking...

Remembering December 12, 1981

Thirty years ago today, my life changed!

I got married to Lovey.

It is quite a milestone and I felt I should recognize it. I mean, even with all the difficulty I experienced with her....and the separation and divorce from hell.... well, I still survived and I feel like I am a better person because of it. Also, were it not for the 30 minute ceremony, 30 years ago, I would not have had the three wonderful children that I now do. So, I have spent the majority of my day thanking the Lord -- yes, I am a man of faith -- for that monumental event and the fact that here I am...still standing after EVERYTHING: the fussing....the fighting.....the grieving......the greediness.....the gay thing......and all the other "stuff."

I am here....alive and well.

And, I think I am healed from the hurt caused by the breakup 6.5 years ago. So much so that I sent Lovey a card....it had the cast from the old movie, THE WIZARD OF OZ on it. It was blank on the inside and I wrote: "We certainly aren't in Kansas anymore...(are we?). I still remember..."

I followed that up with flowers....with a card that said..."I still remember..." with my name on it.

Lovey wrote me back a very simple and short email message. Thanking me for the flowers and that they arrived okay. She also said that it was a very happy day 30 years ago...thanks for remembering her. See you at Christmas.

Mom O'Lovey told my daughter...who then told me that she (my daughter) cannot understand why I would waste money on her mother like that. Mom O'Lovey thought it was a very kind thing to do.

I did it because Lovey is the mother of my three children....and there would not have been any of those had it not been for December 12, 1981.

Going forward, I have to admit, based on that failed relationship...I think I know how to be a better mate to whoever the lucky man is that will be my boyfriend....partner....husband....lover....whatever.

I am a different man.

Things Are Looking Up...I Think...

Today was quite a busy day for me. I slept in a bit and then got up and dressed and attended my gay Bible Study group. It was time for the monthly brunch and this time, in view of the season, celebrated Christmas. I was asked to pick up one of our members at the subway station, which I gladly did. He was a friendly guy and we chit chatted on our way back to the gathering site. When he arrived....and because he was relatively new, introductions were made.....and then he turned to our host and said:

"David, not only did I receive a blessing of having someone pick me up.....but you sent a hot man to do it!"

Well, this was the first time I have been labeled as "hot." Nonetheless I am sure that I blushed....but thanked him for the complement.

Following the meeting, another of the group came up and said, "Frank, I have to tell you...you seem to be looking much better these days. I know that you have been under quite a lot of stress....but you're looking great....even younger!"

I'm sure I blushed again.... Then another of the group told me how good I looked and gave me a big hug and gave me a big full kiss on the lips....with his lips parted slightly. THAT hasn't happened before in this group!

I left that meeting with a slight spring in my step...

When I reached home, I rested a brief time and then I went to a party that I had been invited to. It was made up of a lot of my friends...some of whom I had not seen in a while. One of them, a beautiful guy who has been with his partner for 16 years...and recently got married....came over and sat down next to me...very closely. He gave me a very big hug and said, "Where were you 16 years ago?"

I giggled and said..."Well, I was right here.....in the closet....and married with 3 small children." He the mumbled something about wishing he could have changed that.....and I switched the topic. We chatted and chatted for a good long while....and he walked me out to my car as he went to his. He then gave me a big hug....and a warm kiss.....and then he said....if anything happens to my marriage.....you're on the short list."

Inside, I could hear the robot from Lost In Space saying "DANGER....DANGER.....WILL ROBINSON!!!!" I'm glad that he and his husband live a ways away....and I don't see them very often. This could be problematic.

I've not known what to think about all this.

Clearly I have made progress.....and it is showing.......and guys I have known have seen a change in me.

But I'm unsettled by all the attention.....probably because I feel in limbo with Bob. He's not made his intentions known....I am respectful of him.....as I am with all these men.....especially the married one. I'm not and will never be a homewrecker.

It's kind of nice to garner the attention of the unattached guys....

Hmmmmm

What Exactly Makes a Man Gay?

When I started this blog long ago, I promised to be me -- totally unvarnished, not air brushed -- warts and all. So this is going to be a discussion involving this.

I have been going through quite the dry spell lately when it comes to sexual play. It seems that I have lost interest in it since Dad passed away...and I have just felt a little on the "blah" side. Also, at 53, it's kind of easy to fall into a rut of believing that you are old....fat.....ugly....and undesireable, especially when one stacks me against all the pretty young things out there in the gay metropolis. I mean, actually, I don't look like I just stepped off the set of a hot porn movie!

Late last week, a friend of mine invited me to his house for a full-fledged sex party. (I know you're shocked.) He thought it would perk me up and give me that "spark" again.

So after several days of thought, I decided I would go. But, in the state of mind I was in, I had to work myself up to go.....and tell myself that it would be okay if I were rejected. I ordered myself to not take anything personally.

I showed up at my friend's house at the appointed time. There were about 30 beautiful men there of every size, shape, and age. I kind of hung back....because at these things, it is very easy to be shy....and I was painfully so. However, I have to say that I was very pleasantly surprised by all the attention I received. By the end of the party, I was walking on air. It was a great experience for me....and I felt desireable. The guys I played with made it clear that floated their boats! WOW!

While experiencing the party I observed one older man in particular. He was relatively attractive -- not my cup of tea -- but he had an interested entourage hovering around him being attentive. Several of them made the moves on this guy....and would move in to kiss him and he would stop them and say, "Hey bud, I'm not into that! I'm straight."

I was amazed at his comment.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye for at least two hours. Here he was...naked....surrounded by 30-40 other naked men. I saw him willingly enjoy m2m pleasures....everything that two men or more can do together. I even witnessed him licking spleans right and left. Performing fellatio. Giving and receiving anal stuff. Rimming anyone and everyone who would let him.

But if any guy approached his mouth, "Hey bud, I'm not into that! I'm straight."

I was totally amazed.

For me, kissing is the ultimate turnon in gay sex. I like being passionate and intimate with who I am with. Kissing another man is wonderful and makes my heart pound.

Is it the kissing that determines I am gay?

Obviously in his mind it did. It couldn't be anything else because he did all that gladly!

It is What it is!

This past Sunday I decided to sleep later than normal. I got to my church mid-way through the service. It was good to see everyone and to be around my friends. I even got to have lunch with one of my special guy friends and we got to catch up with what has been happening in our lives during the past few months.

The weekend was fairly uneventful. Heard from Bob several times via text. I invited him out to dinner on Sunday night. He then decided to come over to my house for the rest of the evening. He and I went on a brisk walk through my surrounding neighborhood. We then got to my place and settled in by watching some stuff I have on DVD. He stayed until well past midnight.

Monday I was quite busy -- it was my off day. He and I had no communication. Then, this morning, he contacted me by text and we talked some.

Deep down I feel like this is all a lost cause, but then...I hear from him....and he has all kinds of apologies for his silences and then will pick right up where we left off.

Clearly I am important to him on some level. It's just hard sometimes to figure out just what that level really is. So, I still try to relax and not get worked up by it all. Or to worry.

It is what it is!

He communicates frequently....and I'd like to think he does this more often than with the run-of-the-mill friend. He does seek me out to spend time with me. That indeed says something. He is a busy pastor with a large church...yet he carves out time to be with me. I am honored.

So, I try and relish that and to savor every moment I am with him.

To Church or Not!

Last Sunday I drove out to Bob's church. It was a good day and of course I enjoy watching him in his element. I kind of even like the feeling of stealthiness I feel when I am there. No one there knows that I am in any way affiliated with the pastor. This way I can be an impartial observer to things I wouldn't if folks knew that I have developed quite the friendship with him.

He, too, has said he likes this. I'm not too sure at how he looks at this friendship we have....but he does acknowledge the fact that he enjoys the fact that no one knows my connection to him. (On whatever level.)

So my mind kind of fast forwards a bit. If things were to really happen....and the pastor and I do become BFs or even 'partners', I think I would prefer to keep things on the downlow...at least for a while.

Bob seems to be very private. He has dated some very interesting folks along the way -- none affiliated with his churches...except one. This was the one I believe to have been the love of his life that ended rather tragically after only a very few years...Bob still talks about him in profound ways.

I guess if and when the time comes that Bob and I are a "couple"...I can cross the bridge when I get to it.

But for me....I would just be happy to be in his life....but not affiliated with his professional life.

Perhaps this was one of the mistakes I made early on with Lovey.

Sunday Morning -- Early

It has been a very quiet weekend thus far. I've been doing the usual cleaning....and taking things slowly. I've also had the opportunity of spending some time alone.

To think.

To pray.

To meditate.

Yes, I am a man of faith. Had it not been for my faith I dare say that I would not have been able to withstand the degree of loss I have experienced during the past 14 months or so. BUT...as I survey my life -- the good and the bad, I can't help but breathe a prayer of thanksgiving. I have certainly been blessed with a good life. I have built a wonderful circle of friends who love me; I continue to maintain close family relationships with my WV relatives and beyond. I even maintain a warm and close relationship with Mom O'Lovey.

Yesterday I dropped in to watch her being talked to by a fast-talking roofer. She needs a new roof and has been shopping around. Afterwards, she thanked me for being there for moral support....and to make sure that she was not being "hoodwinked"... She wasn't. She then asked if I would join their family for Christmas Day dinner. Of course, Lovey will be there...all my kids will be there....my niece and nephew and their two children will be there. My other nephew will be there. So, unless Bob decides to spend that day with me...I may go.

Following this discussion.....Mom O'Lovey comes up to me and puts her arm around me to say how very much she loves me and how glad she is that I am still in her family!Time certainly makes changes. Obviously I have healed from those awful days of the divorce. Yes, I am thankful.

About Bob...

The saga of Bob continues and I have to say that I am enjoying him so very much. Definitely this man is special. He warms my heart in quite profound ways.


I still do not have a clue as to where this is all headed.


But gosh...***SIGH***

I think in an earlier post I said that Bob came to my house for Thanksgiving. We had a special time. Then, this week I got a card in the mail thanking me for all the fun he had while here. I put it in my pile of cards to keep.

We have continued our texts....and phone calls......good nights.....good mornings....

Then we did something we haven't done before. We actually moved into different territory. He texted me and said that he was in town for some meeting or other...and asked if I cared to join him for lunch.

Is the Pope Catholic?

I jumped at the chance....and soon found myself sitting across the table from him as he filled me in on his day....his week.....and his church service that weekend. We did as we always do....we laughed and talked....and the time flew by.

Then he grew serious.

He had something he wanted to tell me.

It's something that only he and a couple of people know....and for the past little while it has been weighing on his mind.

I put down my fork...looked at him not knowing what to expect.

I won't violate his trust even here. It was way too personal....and yes I can understand why it was traumatic and all that. But I sat silently and hung on every word. When he finally finished...I suppose it was God who gave me the right things to say to comfort....to help....and yes, to even minister to this man.

It struck a chord obviously.....because he hung on every part of my response.....and then he fell apart and began sobbing.

Again, I didn't say anything...I allowed his tears to flow...

And in that moment, I wanted so badly to jump up and go to his side of the table to wrap my arms around him and to hold him. I wanted to kiss his forehead....and to brush his cheeks....and to say that "I'm here and it's going to be fine."

But I didn't.

This is in keeping with my earlier statements to him that I could love him from a distance and that I would not make any demands upon him...or become clingy.....or stalk him.....

Based on our earlier conversations, I want any relationship to develop based on his comfortableness. I want him to make the first move...or to tell me that he has arrived at some conclusions...

And then I can tell him of my feelings on that day.....and of what I wanted to do....and how badly I wanted to express my compassion....and yes, my love for him.

We left and he walked me to my car. There we embraced....and I felt his cheek next to mine....

WHEW!

Also in the New York Times!

This was another interesting piece that appeared in the New York Times. I saw the film J. Edgar and found it to be an interesting tale about a very complicated individual. It sensitized me to the life Hoover led...and that some now say included the fact that he, too, was gay. I also saw what a purely evil man he was. As I visit his grave at Congressional Cemetery from now on, it will give me pause.

Opinion
J. Edgar Hoover, ‘Sex Deviates’ and My
Godfather
In 1956, the tabloid magazine Confidential published a lurid exposé on Arthur H. Vandenberg Jr., the writer's godfather.
By DUDLEY CLENDINEN
Published: November 25, 2011

A new film on J. Edgar Hoover is a reminder that his persecution of gay people destroyed thousands of lives and careers.

JUST before Christmas in 1952, J. Edgar Hoover, the director of the F.B.I., let President Dwight D. Eisenhower know that the man Eisenhower had appointed as secretary to the president, his friend and chief of staff, my godfather, Arthur H. Vandenberg Jr., was a homosexual. It was part of a pattern of persecution that would destroy thousands of lives and careers. Earlier that year, the American Psychiatric Association’s manual had classified homosexuality as a kind of madness, and Republican senators had charged that homosexuality in the Truman administration was a national security threat. Hoover — the subject of Clint
Eastwood’s new film — was determined to stave off such threats.

A public Puritan with a compulsively bureaucratic and controlling personality, he built an intricate system of files on people of influence — personal and confidential, official and unofficial, and all full of dirt. The most damning were the voluminous “Sex Deviate” files on famous actors, syndicated columnists, senators, governors, business moguls and princes of the Roman Catholic Church, just to name a few.

There was one on Adlai E. Stevenson, the Democratic nominee for president, because some college basketball players being investigated by the F.B.I. for game-fixing claimed that Stevenson, one of “the two best-known homosexuals in the state,” was nicknamed “Adeline.” There was even a file on Eisenhower himself, recording rumors of an affair with Kay Summersby, his driver in Britain during the war.

One was devoted to my godfather because, while he had years of experience in politics and foreign affairs and working for his father, Arthur H. Vandenberg Sr. — a Republican senator from Michigan with a mistress and a file of his own — he also drank, and he wasn’t discreet. Apparently, the file held reports of some incidents with two enlisted men at Camp Lee, Va., in 1942, before he served with and became friends with my father. Worse, at the time Eisenhower appointed him to the White House, he was sharing an apartment in Washington with another man. This was not uncommon. But the other man had been arrested on some morals charge. That was enough for Ike, whom Hoover later described, to an aide to Richard M. Nixon, as “astounded.”

Arthur wasn’t a fighter. He folded. He checked into a hospital, complaining of stomach problems, and resigned the appointment for “health reasons” three months after Eisenhower’s inauguration. He was a pale, fleshy, thin-haired man — sort of like Hoover, actually. And he was a bachelor. Like Hoover. He had never had a girlfriend, or seriously dated women. Like Hoover, Arthur seemed to spend all his free time with men. Hoover, after all, had lived with his mother until she died in 1938, and by then, he was practically inseparable from the natty, lean, quiet Clyde Tolson, whom he had hired in 1928 and promoted meteorically, making him associate director, the No. 2 position in the F.B.I., in 1947.

J.Edgar and Clyde had separate offices and separate houses, but they had lunch together, dinner together, rode to work in Hoover’s car together, attended private dinners and receptions in Washington together, went to the horse races together, and vacationed in the same hotel suites together. By Hoover’s standards, if they hadn’t been the director and associate director of the F.B.I., they would have been in its Sex Deviate files together, because there sure was a lot of talk about them. Hoover sent agents to squash the talk and threaten the talkers wherever it occurred.

But at least they had each other. Eastwood’s film imagines a violent kiss between them, but my guess, as someone who loves men, is that they were never lovers. They weren’t built for it. They were too prim, too rigid, too Victorian. The only way Hoover could be comfortable in such a public relationship, I think, was because he knew it wasn’t sexual in private, whether he desired it to be or not. Hoover was too aware of the power of a secret. How could he permit anyone — even Clyde — to have something on him?

As far as I know, Arthur Jr. never had a full relationship, either. What he had was an F.B.I. file. He left Washington, moved to Coconut Grove, Fla., bought a house, drove a convertible, made extensive foreign policy visits to the Middle and Far East and Asia, and became a popular lecturer on American foreign policy at the University of Miami.

And Eisenhower had stayed in touch, including Arthur at a White House stag dinner, having him in again to talk about his conversations with foreign leaders and suggesting to Secretary of State John Foster Dulles that they ought to find a place for him. Arthur seemed on the verge of resurrection. That ended in late 1956, when Confidential, a smut and scandal tabloid probably fed by the F.B.I., published a lurid exposé about him.

Arthur resigned from the university, and disconnected his phone. The couple of times my parents saw him in that period, he seemed unfocused, drinking too much, and restless to be out of their company. In 1964, when President Lyndon B. Johnson’s close friend and aide, Walter Jenkins, was arrested for performing oral sex in a men’s room, L.B.J. reminded reporters that the Republican, Eisenhower, had had a problem, too, and his name was Arthur Vandenberg.

It must have seemed as if it would never end. But then, on Jan. 18, 1968, Arthur died at the age of 60. My father was then editor of The Tampa Tribune, and friends at The Miami Herald told him that Arthur had killed himself. But there was no such public report, and when, years later, I asked an investigative reporter friend of mine in Miami to look for the coroner’s report or death certificate, he could find nothing. I had a feeling growing up — and later, as I realized I was gay, and came to terms with it in my 40s — that something must have happened to my godfather. He had disappeared from my childhood. The only memory I have is of him driving away, in a convertible. I was just 8 when Hoover outed him. I didn’t know what had broken the relationship. It wasn’t until the early ’90s, when I asked if my parents thought he had been gay, that they told me of his death, and of one night, in a Spanish restaurant in Tampa, when they were shocked to see Arthur emerge from behind the curtain of a private dining nook with a tipsy young airman. In all those years, they had never spoken of it, even to each other.

Two weeks after Arthur resigned in 1953, Eisenhower issued Executive Order 10450, which mandated the firing of any federal employees guilty of “sexual perversion.” But apparently, he felt badly about Arthur. The Kameny Papers Project, an archival project named for Franklin E. Kameny, a major gay rights leader who died in October, has found a series of personal notes and letters from Ike and Mamie to Arthur, regretting that he wasn’t with them. “I feel very distressed about your health,” the president wrote in one. “I feel in some respects guilty.”

When Hoover died in May 1972, his personal secretary shredded a mass of his private files. In December 1973, the board of the American Psychiatric Association voted to rescind its 1952 decision to classify homosexuality as insanity.

They had been wrong, the directors of the association said. It had been a mistake.

Dudley Clendinen is a former national correspondent and editorial writer for The New York Times, and author of “A Place Called Canterbury.”

In the Pit With the New York Times

Oy!

This weekend -- a bit dicey given the fact that this is the first major holiday I've had to celebrate without either of my parents -- fell into a bottomless pit when I read an article that appeared in THE NEW YORK TIMES on November 24. It hit kind of close to home....closer than I like for these things to fall....

I run it here for your perusal. How does it make you feel?

Keeping Marital Secrets Closeted
By JANE ISAY
Published: November 24, 2011

THIS summer, soon after gay marriage became legal in New York, my sons held a wedding for my former husband and his partner of over 30 years. The grandchildren were flower girl and ring bearers. The wedding thrust me back to the time when we faced a terrible choice and decided to stay married for the children. That’s what motivated my then husband and me to carry on our incomplete marriage for its last nine years, and that’s how we explained our actions after the divorce. It was a convenient truth, and also a self-serving one.

The year was 1980. I was waiting for my husband of 15 years to return from the last party of a psychiatry convention. I could hear voices from down the hall, happy men enjoying their time together. When he came in, his face was grave. He sat down on the bed and said, “I have something I need to tell you.” He took a deep breath. “I’m homosexual.” At that moment I saw my future collapse before my eyes. I got the chills and ran to take a hot bath. It gave me time to think and warmed me, but not for long. We spent the night talking and lamenting. On the plane home, we held each other and sobbed and planned. By the time we landed, we had decided to keep his sexual orientation a secret and stay married for the sake of the children.

Of course we both wanted to protect our sons, who were 10 and 14. Divorce was not uncommon then, but the circumstances surrounding our relationship were controversial and would have created a scandal in our small university town, so staying married for the children helped us both feel better about ourselves and our lies. We thought they didn’t notice any change, and we were mistaken. Secrets have a way of seeping into the atmosphere. Kids are natural observers. They watch parents like hawks, and they know when something is wrong, even if they don’t know what. I desperately wanted the charade to work at home — we were doing this for the children. So covering for my husband on his two nights a week out, and his two vacations a year became second nature — he was a busy man with many meetings.

I paid a price for my silence with my closest friends, because a secret of this magnitude builds barriers. I just couldn’t bear to show them the spot I was in. And I was leery of advice. When I felt so alone, I could always remind myself what a good person I was being, sacrificing for the children.

The other reasons for staying married were not so charming. If I had thought, I’m staying for the money, I might have questioned the lies I told my sons about where their father was on the nights he spent with his future husband. Or if he had thought, I’m staying to promote my career as a psychoanalyst, he might have felt a little heavy on the ambition scale. Or if we both had realized that we were just too scared to face the world alone, I might have given up some of the pretending, and he might have realized the gravity of his original secret.

But never mind. We had an explanation that made people admire us when we finally went public. Other truths might have evoked pity or suspicion: what’s the matter with her radar? How could she accept a half a marriage instead of a whole one? Who is she, really? To say we stayed married for the children put an end to uncomfortable questions.

If I had faced the other reasons to stay in the marriage, the burden of our lies would probably have been harder to bear. But the burden on our sons might also have been lightened. It’s not so great for kids to be told they are the cause of their parents’ behavior, especially when that’s only part of the story. When they finally learned the truth, our sons were more disturbed by our deception than by the facts. Our reasons didn’t seem to matter anymore. Truth trumps lies every time.

The phrase “we stayed married for the children” is like a silk duvet on a complicated and imperfect marriage bed. Nobody really wants to turn back the covers, the unhappy spouses least of all.

The author of “Walking on Eggshells,” who is working on a book about family secrets.

*******************

Reading this article forced me to revisit my not-so-happy place of a few years ago. You see, back then I felt like it was all my fault and I believed that I had caused all my wife's problems and unhappiness. A few wives jumped on the bandwagon and made it seem like my disclosure to my wife had been one grand scheme of deception to, in my wife's vernacular, "make her life hell." I soon noticed that many wives in this situation turn the tables and make the disclosure become all about them. Although I will dare the fates to say that yes, they are involved...and to some degree collateral damage, but this is not all about them.

Now, before everyone circles the wagons, and hurls arrows at me please remember that I am speaking from my own experience and the experiences I have observed in some of my more close friends' lives.

The struggling gay guy did not set out and rub his hands together one day and say...."Gee, let's see what poor woman we can hoodwink into marrying us so that one day in the future I can, after having lots of mindless gay sex, come home to say, 'Honey, I think I'm queer!' Golly gee...I sure am sorry that it's gonna upset your apple cart and plans for a long and blissful life together."

No, I did not feel that way in the least. I did not use my wife in anyway to conceal the truth. I genuinely thought I could change...or that all that needed to happen was for someone to mash the magic reset button to launch me onto the road of wanton straightness.

I was mistaken and fell for what I had been told by my clergyman. That God hated fags....and that in order for Him to not hate me, I must marry and cast all this aside.

He never told me the mechanics of how that was supposed to work. Better yet, how I was supposed to deal with the biological urges the ebbed and flowed with my raging hormones on a daily basis.

I loved men.

Plain and simple.

I needed to be with one.

I still do.

But the way that gay life is constructed, I am finding that a lot of men have very unrealistic expectations of what that looks like. Generally speaking, it's about 6'2", young, blond, buff, and hung. It even helps to have just stepped off the set of a male porn movie.

In the real world, it does not work like that.

Gosh...I wish my guy would show up.....FINALLY.

What Is It?

Meanwhile, there is another man in the wings...

I actually think he could be "the one." I mean, I have some real deep feelings for him. He is the one guy that makes me think "marriage" again.

But there are some problems.

His name is Bob.

But that's not one of the problems.

First, he is a pastor of a very large affirming church here in the area. He is single and he is out....and everyone is cool with that.

I met him at a Gay Pride Event in 2010. I liked him as a friend...and we've talked a bit...and emailed....and all that. After about a year, I felt this little tug at my heart strings. So, rather than pine away like have done in the past, I decided to man up and just tell him how I felt. To my dismay, he thanked me but he just doesn't date people in his church.

I pointed out that I'm not in his church....and have no plans of joining his church....that I only came to visit a couple of times to hear him....and support him. He grew wistful...then alluded to how he met the love of his life at church....and since that relationship ended....that's probably why he has not found the caliber of relationship he's looking for because he's looked outside his faith.

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

But I took the hint....told him that I could love him from a distance....and that was that. I felt stupid...and told myself..."Well, that we certainly did a good job at wrecking that friendship."

Since that time a few interesting things have happened:

We have gone from having dinner every other month, to monthly, to weekly, to now several nights per week...we talk about everything under the sun....He used to email perhaps once a week....then that moved to texting once every few days to once per day......now it is several times per day. We exchange texts all during the day. The last thing at night he tells me good night or to rest well or to have pleasant dreams.

We have gone from shaking hands....to shaking hands with a hug to outright fullbody bearhugs with a slight hold. When we part after dinner it has gone from a simple goodbye to a handshake and goodbye to a handshake with a hug cheek to cheek...to hug and a kiss on the cheek that keeps migrating to my mouth.

We have a special place we go to along the river to sit and talk....and to pray together.

He came to my house for Thanksgiving....and brought me a small gift. He satayed for over 8 hours....and made himself totally at ease. We've planned a getaway following Christmas. He's given me various stuff...including a book of poetry that he likes.

Finally, the most interesting thing is whenever I am at his church...we are always very discreet....no one knows about our friendship. I gave him a rainbow stole and journal for his birthday....and he goes on and on about that.....and at very special events...he has the stole on! At the conclusion of the service, the church has a theme song they like to close with. It's one that encourages holding the hand of your neighbor....before dismissal. Well, two times now, when the music for that theme song starts, he comes down of the stage and seeks me out. He will then hold my hand...giving it several squeezes before breaking free and offering a closing prayer.

So, even though I am not sure what the destination is....I am certainly enjoying the journey with him.

But nothing physical.....nothing talked about.......our friendship has not been labeled. I am not forcing that issue. It just feels so good to be in his presence.

So we shall see.

I don't know what to call this that I have with him.

A Little Romance?

In traveling back and forth to WV I met someone.

He's about my age....he's cute....he's an only child. Never married...partnered several times.

He gave me flowers.

The first time I have been given flowers.

He gave me sunflowers....my mom and daughter's favorites.

The second time he gave me roses in a deeply crimson vase.

It felt good to have someone make a fuss over me.

But for all that good feeling....it just didn't seem right. After all he lives back there....and I live here.

He is jobless....and strikes me as somewhat of a low achiever.

I found myself feeling exceedingly drained when he was around me for a great period of time.

So it seems to have faded.

Like the fall leaves....

Thanksgiving

Hello everyone!

You have not been forgotten...I have just been incredibly busy trying to work on getting things settled on my parents' estate. Mother's probate finally closed....and the way dad had his affairs in order, I was not required to go through the probate stuff.

Still it has been so busy...I just can't begin to tell you about everything.

First and foremost, I have been working on the house -- my house. It is 111 years old...and appears to have been a Sears Craftsman house. Always before I just sort of took the place for granted...but now as I have had to plunder and pillage....and look at it with a critical eye, I must say it is a cute building.

So, I am in the process of making it a lot cuter.

This is because I have made some serious decisions. I plan to rent the place so that it gives me a new revenue stream. So to increase the curb appeal, I have had new windows installed (it immediately killed all the drafts)....and I am currently in the process of having new siding installed. This will change the color of the place....from basic WHITE aluminum 50yo siding, to pale yellow vinyl. It has a new green roof...and the yellow just sets it off.

While I was there, there was an electrical fire...which leads me to believe that the electrical system needs to be revamped or updated or something. I've painted the inside...and put in new rugs.....and updated the kitchen.

It turns out that Daddy had 5 weapons. I sold all of them this last trip. I am certainly not a fan of firearms. Supposedly there are handguns somewhere in the arsenal too that I have yet to come across.

I ventured into one of the two attics. Amazing stuff there. Went into the crawl space below the place....and there are all my old toys....still intact. Unbelievable.

Another attic....at the very top of the house is one that I have not yet gotten to climb into. Primarily because it looks like the opening is super tiny....and I'm a rather big man. I think the old 1960s era Christmas Decorations are there.

While cleaning Daddy's closet (home of the weapons), I came across 5 leisure suits.....in pristine condition. The last time Dad wore them, he had them drycleaned...and so there they were, in the back of his closet...in plastic....just waiting to be discovered by "me."

Also found my highschool yearbooks.....and my highschool jacket. While there, I met up with about 20 of my old classmates....and they loved the stuff I found....and they posed in the jacket for our Facebook page!

For all the positives....the one abiding negative is that my parents are gone. In the words of someone famous...."they belong to the ages"...and I miss them. It hurts like hell....and there is nothing I can do to change that.

On my last day there, I went to the cemetery to pay my respects...and to decorate the gravesite for Christmas. If you have a loved one that has left, do yourself a favor...and take it from me: do not go to the cemetery on an early, gray, rainy, foggy morning. It plays with your mind.

I got there and cleaned the monument off and got rid of the fall decorations. I had picked up some nifty decorates at Wal-mart.... and proceeded to decorate -- me....with my little baseball hat and jacket -- the one lone person in this cold desolate cemetery in the middle of no where. I had nothing with me but my memories of how things used to be.....and the sound of the downpour I was enveloped in. I hurried and made my adjustments....put in fake poinsettias into the flower vases....with the fake holly and the fake berries. On each bench over the niche where my parents are, I fastened fake festive holiday packages...that shimmered red and gold in the drizzle.

I stood back to admire my work....

I stood there.

I did not move.

For the longest time...

My eyes flooded over.

I stared...in the cold pouring rain.

Every fiber of my being was doused with the cold autumn rain.

Finally I moved.

I got in my car. Cold to the bone.

I drove back to my house in WV -- a good 30 minutes away.

It took me even longer to drive to my home in Alexandria, VA.

I made it there at 2am.

On the First Anniversary of My Mother's Final Goodbye

Yesterday I reached a milestone.

One year ago yesterday at approximately 1:15 pm, I watched my mother draw her last breath. It has been a very long and painful year. But in some ways I have learned a lot and, yes, at the age of 53, I guess I can say I have grown up.

This weekend I traveled back to WV to check on things...and to face down my fear of being there for this "anniversary." Some of my friends in Huntington were very attentive...and one in particular dragged me to Pt. Pleasant and to Parkersburg to visit Blennerhassett Island. I thought that would be quite fitting, given the fact that Mom had a tremendous fascination with Blennerhassett and would have loved the opportunity to go there.

I was feeling kind of smug. I also visited the cemetery. It was the first time I went and didn't melt down from grief. The person that went with me and I actually chatted and laughed as I told him some of the funny things that my mother has shared with me....and the other memories I have and of some of her quips. I also told him about my dad's last visit to the cemetery before he grew ill this summer. He got to see the stone...and he pronounced that it was good....then he went to a neighboring monument....sat on it and lit up a cigarette.

I felt so proud of myself. I was able to get through all that without tears....without my heart breaking. I thought that my grief counseling was doing the trick.

Then today happened.

I packed up the car....took a few last looks around at the house....and the things.....set the alarm system and got into my car....and drove.....and drove....to get back here at a decent hour.

I made it to Covington, VA, before I needed a break and some food. I stopped at a KFC....ate....and I could feel it coming...

I got flashes of what it was like to be in that room at St. Mary's Hospital in Huntington....seeing Mom.....and seeing her leave.

I went to the parking lot....climbed in my car...and just sat there....

The grief nearly swamped me. I cried....and I cried.....and the pain was just so intense. It felt like I had just lost her all over again.

A Fall Update

As I write this, I am sitting at Mom's desk, in her beloved addition known as "The Family Room" where she spent many of her last days. Of course, she wasn't able to do much with the computer....but in times past, she did. So, I'm writing this after having spent the weekend here trying to do some stuff.

There is so much to do. But I have accomplished much. For instance, I have been going throught he clothes closets in the upstairs bedrooms. I found Daddy's collection of leisure suits....all neatly pressed and in their dry clean plastic since the very time over thirty years ago he last wore them; my high school letter jacket...that needs cleaning, but I can still wear it; boxes lovingly packed with my toys; an owl bank that I was given at 5 years of age; tons of junk; and, 5 weapons.

Yes, you read correctly: 5 weapons -- rifles to be exact.

What am I going to do with 5 rifles....5 VERY OLD rifles. One was my grandfather Vance's. One was my great grandfather Moore's. The other three just belonged to Daddy. I have not yet located the pistols. So, I should have quite the collection by the time this is all over.

I am beginning to deal better with my parents' loss. Today I went to the cemetery and paid my respects and this time did not shed ANY tears. But I remembered some great times...and I found myself smiling as I brushed away the grass clippings from their monument.

In its way, it was cathartic for me. I was able to put some things into perspective. But...it is so strange to be sitting here....and writing this.....and not having them running around doing something or watching CNN.

The gay issue is still very much alive in my heart. Gosh how I wish I had one person here with me now.....someone to snuggle with....or to, as I have said many times, to bury my head into his chest....and to be held. But, for whatever reason...it is not happening...and I am just dealing with what I have to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

It's Sunday night.....after a full day....and a very full weekend.....of various activities.

Now it's time for me to settle down....and to ponder....to pray....and see what happens next.

Keeping the Train in Motion

As dawn breaks over the DC metro area, your gay pal Frank is busy at work trying to determine the best course of action to take in order to get estate issues settled for his parents...and moving down the track of his life.

So, Friday of this week, I am headed back to my parents' home....which is now my house....to continue the renovations that were begun in July. I plan to spend all of next week there...cleaning and getting rid of paper....and just unusable junk, which, for whatever reason, my parents did not feel the need to throw away. I also have to dig into the clothes closets to see what is there and get clothing to Goodwill or Salvation Army.

Then, I need to tackle the attics (there are two of them).... One I investigated was chocked full of "stuff." The other attic which is on the extreme top of the house I have never been in. So, I have no clue what's up "there."

There's the outbuilding....that is again filled to capacity with "stuff." Finally, in the large crawl space under our house is where my parents stored all the toys I ever played with. So, I cannot wait to see those things.

Then there is Mom's china and glassware collection, photographs, furniture, a victrola or two, old recordings, tapes, video cassettes, etc.

So, I have my work cut-out for me. AND, it's just going to be me. I know tht I can't get it all done, but I am going to take my time....and possibly mourn...alone. Then, beginning next Thursday, I have an impressive group of friends from my MCC church here coming to be with me to help paint....do yard work.....box up....etc. They are traveling EIGHT HOURS one way to be with me. I can't begin to tell you how much this means to me.

They will be spending the entire Labor Day Weekend with me....

The house is going to have new siding and windows installed. I've already redone a couple of rooms...painted...recarpeted....etc.

So the train has left the station and is slowly moving forward.

I am also thankful for the community of friends that have been introduced into my life over the last 5 years. They are quick to say how much they love me...and what a blessing I am to their lives. (I'm amazed by this.)

My main fan club is a posse of about 15 lesbians. They are firmly entrenched in my corner. A couple of them have said privately that if they were straight....and I was straight.....we'd be married. So, for a gay guy....this is indeed a high honor to have two lesbians say this about you.

But, **sigh**, I am not straight....and I have the longing for a special man in my life. There, too, however, I am blessed because in my sphere there are a few men who fit that bill. They are also of the romantic relationship quality...but the current relationships I have with each does not include romance....although at times I wish it did.

So as this train continues to chug down the track and pick up steam...there is so many goals I have.....so many dreams I have....and then there are the wishes....

Where Do I Go From Here?

When one is an only child, one contemplates the death of parents almost from day one. I was always afraid of being left as an orphan...a helpless, lonely orphan. In my childhood, I always had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when my parents would go on trips...or we would be in the car together. My mind would always picture them not coming back....or us having an automobile accident where I would be the only survivor.

It was scary.

As I have grown into adulthood, I had backup plans in place. I thought I would have my wife standing nearby to help me through the bad times. When one parent died... I thought I would have the support of the other parent until they died.

I thought my dad would always be the first to leave, and that Mom would live to a very, very old age and perhaps live with me.

But then 2005 happened....my wife became my ex. Mother was the first diagnosed with cancer. She died first and in the process of her dying, Dad, too was stricken with cancer. His mental state was not the best and he started suffering from dementia. He had to move in with me and was unable to care for himself...or his finances....or his house. He was like an orphan...and I was the parent. I cared for him until the very end.

Then he died...and now I am left as an adult, helpless and lonely orphan.

Oh, I did have the support of my children....and yes, the ex-wife did show some compassion.

But I have had to make a lot of heavy decisions...ALONE.

The gay thing has also been at work in a bizarre sort of way.

So here I am, trying to sort out the little things: what am I going to do with my parents' belongings, the house, the antiques, the china collection, the furniture, the coin collection -- all the stuff that my parents held precious and priceless.

I am surrounded by countless friends who mean the world to me. They call me to find out how I am doing. They support me through the good and bad times.

God has been faithful.

A group of my church friends are traveling to my WV house on Labor Day to help me.

I can't believe it.

I am learning to accept care....and love....and help...with out that old WV pride intervening.

I am also learning what it means to be a good friend. Gosh, I hope I have been as good to others as they are being to me at this time in my life. I will definitely pay all this forward.

CRASH!

Well, I have returned from the beach....all rested and refreshed. The only problem is that the time literally whizzed by. But I had a super good time. I really needed the vacation a lot more than I ever suspected. The years working with my terminally ill parents had certainly taken its toll. Now I am working to settle the estate stuff...and get my house in WV emptied so that I can have it rented over the fall.

Returned home and fired up my shiny new IMAC desktop....and it crashed. I don't believe that there is anything sadder than a sick MAC. Normally they work flawlessly...but something made this one die prematurely....so I wound up wiping out the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system and all the software. Things seem to be working a lot better now...but I still have not resurrected my email or ITunes....all my picture libraries are safe and sound....THANK GOD. Keep your fingers crossed.

The Beach

As I write this, it is late at night. I am locked away in my condo on the 17th Floor Condo at the beach. From my balcony, I can watch the Atlantic Ocean as its waves crash to the shore. It is incredibly soothing to be able to just sit and to be.

A few weeks ago, as I was contemplating my life of losses during the past 12 months, I decided that for my own wellbeing, I needed to get away ALONE....to process all the stuff I have been dealing with. I needed a place where I could just sit and cry if need be.

So, the only place that I felt I could really be "at home" was the beach I went to as a child with my parents. We came here first nearly 50 years ago. I've found the places we used to go. It is just so amazing now to sit and see it alone.

As I have rested and done the things I have wanted to do...I have used the time to meditate.....to my thoughts in order....and to rest. I didn't know how much I needed this time away...until I got here. So with a few more days left, I am going to begin drafting a manuscript of my thoughts on the gay thing....of loss.....of change....of new beginnings.....and use this blog as the base for it.

It may never see the light of day at a publisher....but it can't ever be published at all if it doesn't get written. So as a way to process my grief, I am going to begin the process.....take my time....and see what happens.

Keep your fingers crossed as I embark on this new labor.

I will be writing here more regularly too.

Stay tuned.

Here's a family picture taken in 1965 at a statue here in a botanical garden......and what the same statue looks like nearly 50 years later......yesterday....