An inspiring life of music

 Back in 2016, my band, DC's Different Drummers, held a concert that featured music by and about women.  Our conductor asked for volunteers to share something about the women who have been an inspiration in our lives.  Here is what I wrote.

My love of music stems largely from my grandmother, Anna Lawyer Carroll.  She was born in 1891 to parents who enjoyed music.  Her father, P.R. Lawyer, played in various community bands throughout his life.  My grandmother learned to play the piano and played the organ at the Presbyterian church in our hometown.

Anna gave piano lesson too  One of her great talents was her ability to sight read music.  That led to her job at the Berkeley Springs Theater.  For several years she played piano for the silent movies and got paid 25 cents a night.  And if a vaudeville troupe came to town and needed an accompanist she rehearsed with them in the afternoon and played the performance.  That was big money she told me, "50 cents a night!"

Anna was a natural alto and she sang duets with her brother Herbert Lawyer.  Their brother Harry grew up to sing bass in the church choir.  Herbert played euphonium and Harry played saxophone.  Herbert served in the Army during WWI and even played in an Army band while serving in France.  We found this photo of his Army band.

Anna's uncle Jonathan Casler loved her very much and offered to pay her tuition to attend the Peabody Institute in Baltimore.  But P.R. wouldn't le her go.  Without a degree she was later denied a teaching position at the local high school.  But that didn't stop her from teaching piano to two generations in our small town.

After Anna married Eddie Carroll, she taught her children, Ned and Margie, to read music.  Uncle Ned never really took to piano, but he played trombone and most any other instrument he picked up.  And he had a wonderful tenor voice! 

Margie Carroll McBee, was my mother.  Mom mostly played "for my own amazement".  But she did accompanied friends who sang.  Later, like her own mother, she started playing the organ at church.  But for my mom it was at St. Vincent de Paul Catholic Church.  I'm not sure how long she played the organ, but it was the better part of 25 years. 

My grandmother taught me to read music and play the piano.  My lessons were a bit hit-and-miss.  I learnded the basics.  When the movie The Sting came out I heard Scott Joplin's Entertainer rag played on the radio.  I decided I wanted to play that.  My mom and I found the music for it and I started to work on it. With my mother's help I eventually learned the piece and improved as a pianist as well.

My siblings all learned from my grandmother too and we all continue to play instruments and sing.  One of my cousins is Jon Carroll, a Grammy award winning musician/singer/songwriter.  His son Ben is also a musician.

The next generation has lots of talent too.  My niece Lindsay Dove is an accomplished singer and a music teacher.  Another niece, Chelsea McBee sings and plays the banjo.  She has a couple albms out and some recordings on YouTube.  Her mom Teresa and her sister Melody sing with her sometimes.  They have two brothers, Caleb and Dominic who play instruments and sing too.  Dominic studied musical theatre and has performed in a number of community and semi-professioal productions.

Harry Lawyer's sons and grandchildren have carried on the musical tradition playing piano and other instruments.

In addition to inspiring my knowledge and love of music, my grandmother's talent has carried on to a fourth generation.  And the next generation is just getting started!

Lu Ann - a true one-of-a kind

 

Last week I got word that friend of many years, LuAnn Jamison had passed away.  Though I hadn’t seen her in many years we had kept up on Facebook.

My earliest memory of LuAnn was from seeing her in plays in high school.  She had a good sense of timing for comedy and the ability to look innocent and mischievous at the same time.

She really stood out as Lucy in the high school production on You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown.

During my senior year of high school, I started singing with the choir at First United Methodist Church in Berkeley Springs, WV.  First there was a wonderful Christmas cantata and the following spring we started working on a program for the United States Bicentennial – Ring All the Bells. 

A side note to all our work on Ring All the Bells, we were also part of massed choir for a July 4^th program in the Berkeley Springs Park.  On July 4^th Eve, a few of us had the brilliant idea to go “4^th of July Caroling”.  We started driving around to homes of various friends and stood outside singing patriotic songs.  It was insane.  Bonnie Close told us to go home and go to bed.  Les and Louise Guile applauded from their bedroom window and called out, “Thank you young people!”

There was also another production titled Cool in the Furnace.  Keith Butler played King Nebuchadnezzar and I narrated as the Prophet Daniel.  LuAnn was working on production and spent half a day driving around looking for dry ice to use in the production.  She didn’t find any dry ice, but she did have some interesting exchanges with a few truck drivers on the CB radio that day.

A group of us from that choir formed an ensemble called the Family of God Singers and we toured the county and surrounding area singing the praises of God.  We had a lot of fun and I hope we helped some people along their spiritual journey.

Scattered throughout there were lots of picnics and parties and so much music.  I often joined LuAnn and our friend Keith Butler in their escapades.  We drove to a friend’s cabin at Keyser Kountry Klub to picnic.  We played on the swing set.  In a thoughtful moment LuAnn was sitting on one of the swings looking at the other swing and made the profound statement, “This swing is lower than that swing.” 

Later we were sitting on the porch when Keith decided we should sing folk tunes.  Keith started singing “Hang down your head Tom Dooley…”, at which point the chair he was sitting in collapsed under him.  LuAnn jumped up to say, “Ok Keith! Are you alright?” But she had to sit back down immediately because she was laughing too hard.  (Keith was ok.)

One summer day I was hanging out with my friend Kevin Hurley when we got a phone call from Lu Ann to help her.  A former choir director, Faye Findley Shaw was returning to Berkeley Springs with her husband Daddy Shaw and some friends to stay in the Shaw’s long-neglected home.  Lu Ann, her sister Kathy, another friend Craig Barker, Kevin, and I went up to the Shaw home overlooking Berkeley Springs where Mr. & Mrs. Shaw were already cleaning.  We pitched in did our best. 

The home had a lovely view looking out over the town.  Mrs. Shaw said that when they first moved there, she brought her mother, whom she called Dearest.  She was taking Dearest up some stairs to see a more dramatic view of the town and was quoting the psalm, “Yea, I shall lift up mine eyes unto the hills whence cometh my help.”  Then, as Mrs. Shaw told the story, Dearest slipped on the stairs and ended up in the hospital and died.

Following my freshman year of college, I worked for the Town of Bath, or maybe it was the Chamber of Commerce, to follow up on a project from the Bicentennial year of 1976.  I worked out of the Chamber office.  Lu Ann and Annette Shives worked for Chamber of Commerce at that time.  In the midst of doing our work, I remember a lot of running around.  Lunches at Warm Springs, or Perry’s Pizza, or little place in Great Cacapon run by Lil and Don Maggio.

I would often see Lu Ann on my return visits to Berkeley Springs, but over time my visits were briefer and focused on my family. 

Music was always so much a part of what I remember of Lu Ann.  That and her love for her family and friends.  Her love of God and Our Savior.

One last story. 

Lu Ann had many different jobs over the years.  Once summer she was working at Jellystone Park which was a site for campers and travel trailers.  It was along the Potomac River.  As part of her job, she occasionally had to dress in the big Yogi Bear costume to greet the campers.

One Saturday night she was driving home through Hedgesville.  There’s a very sharp turn in the road and Lu Ann was maybe driving a little too fast, or maybe she just hit some gravel, but she spun out and hit a utility pole with a phone booth next to it.  She looked at the phone and said, “Hello.  I’ll just use this phone to call Mom and Dad.” 

The curve and the phone were directly in front of the Hedgesville Fire Department.  Folks came out to assist and Deputy Sheriff showed up.  They got Lu Ann out of the car, and she was still wearing the Yogi Bear costume – well, not the headpiece.  The Sheriff was asking her about her costume and Lu Ann was explaining that.

Shortly after, Wendell and Nita Mae, Lu Ann’s parents showed up.  They had been in bed watching television when Lu Ann called, so Wendell threw on some pants and Nita Mae just grabbed her robe and slippers and the got in the car. 

When they got to Hedgesville, Nita Mae jumped out of the car and ran up to see if Lu Ann was alright.  She was wearing a fuzzy pink bathrobe and matching fuzzy pink slippers.  The deputy looked at Nita Mae, then looked at Lu Ann in her furry brown costume and said, “This must be your mother!”

Rest in peace Lu Ann.  Thank you for the friendship, the love, the music and the laughs.  Say hi to our many friends as they welcome you to Heaven.  I look forward to seeing you again.

 

Remembering Mary

 

Margie Carroll & Mary Virginia Banks

Mary is called by many names – Mary, Mary Virginia, Mary Banks, Mary Nichols, Mrs. Nichols, Mary B. Nichols, Omah Mary, and Cuge (pronounced KEW-gie, a corruption of Cute Granny).

For most of my life it was always Mary Virginia because Mary was just three days older than my mother and the pair grew up like sisters.  My mother had one brother and four boy cousins who lived in the house next door.  My mom was thrilled to have a sister, best friend, and partner-in-crime in Mary Virginia.  It helped that Mary’s mother Adah and my mom’s mother, Anna, were great friends.

Mary’s parents, Adah and Grove lived in a house across the street from my mom’s family home when Mary was born.  Soon after they moved into the house along Dawson Street, and Mary’s father ran a filling station at the bottom of the hill.

There were quite a few kids who grew up together in those days.  Cousins and classmates and when Mary’s sister Ruth Ellen came along, she was part of the mix too.  And their brother Grove Lee a few years later.

Mary Virginia was a regular visitor at my grandparents’ home when she was growing up.  She had a knack of showing up just around dinner time.  She also told me that she always arrived thirsty and asked for a drink of water.  Because, if my grandmother had baked a cake, it would be in the same cupboard where the glasses were kept.  That way, Mary could see if there was a cake, if she was invited to stay to dinner.

Mary Virginia and my mother were in the same grade until my mother became ill with rheumatic fever.  That kept my mother out of school for four years.  But Mary Virginia was a faithful friend and visited most days.  She was welcome break from the boredom of a sickroom. 

After my mother recovered, they were back to running around like any teenagers.  School, swimming at the state park, getting milkshakes at Coughlin’s drugstore, going on dates, and going to dances.

They grew up in the depression and nobody had much, but they made do and made good friends.  In addition to the filling station next to the house, Mary’s parents also ran Scott’s Store, a grocery store that Adah’s parents had.  Often Mary would drive between the two on errands for her parents.

Mary would tell the story that when it was time for her to take her driving test to get her license, the secretary at the State Police office sent her across the street to the movie theater where the police officer was.  Mary nervously walked in and cleared her throat and said, “Excuse me.  I’m supposed to ask you to give me the driving test.”  She said the police officer looked her up and down and said, “I’ve been watching you drive up and down Martinsburg Road for years.  You’ve passed your test already,” and he signed the card.

Mary finished high school in 1943 and her sister and my mother graduated two years later.  Mary went off to West Virginia University and majored in Home Economics.  As she described it once – She got her BS (Bachelor of Science) and then married Bob Nichols and got her MRS.  She lost her MRS, but she kept her BS.

Then Mary’s years of traveling and raising a family began.  No matter where Mary traveled, she was always the girl from Berkeley Springs.  She lived life with gusto and kept a sense of herself, rooted in the family and friends.

Mary was the Matron of Honor when my mother got married and a five years later when I was born, my mother asked if Mary and Bob would be my godparents.  Mary converted to Catholicism when she married Bob Nichols.

When I was born, my mother wrote to Mary who was living in the Azores at the time and asked if she and Bob would be my godparents.  My mother saved the letter that Mary sent in response.  In the letter, Mary mentions that she is herself having some labor pains and was hoping she’d go to the hospital that night.  Mary's daughter Sarah was born two days later.

Like Mary, I grew up in Berkeley Springs, WV and I attended grade school in the building next door to her home.  Over the years Bob and Mary would visit and I learned to look for the green and white Volkswagen bus in the driveway.  If we visited while the family was at the family home it was usually an asylum with my five godsisters running about and playing, adults talking and telling stories and my sister and two brothers in the mix.

I remember visiting their home on King Street in Alexandria, Virginia.  The house made an impression on me.  It was beautiful, with nice furniture.  I remember the three older girls shared a bedroom and the ceiling was wallpapered with a map of the world.  The house had a big kitchen and a classroom set up in the basement.  I recall there being a pet monkey at one point – but I’ll let others explain that.

When you’re a kid, it’s easy to expect presents from some people, especially from your godparents.  But I never thought about the fact they had 5 daughters to provide for.  Over the years I got some very cool gifts, many of which I still have.  There was a wooden Madonna from Italy and wooden sandals, and a puzzle bank from Japan to list a few.

I remember my mom and Mary visiting at our house and having a beer – or two.  Mary was telling my mom about a song she had heard on the radio about going back to West Virginia.  For some reason the explanation required Mary to stand up and act out driving home to West Virginia.  They were both laughing about it all.  The song was John Denver’s Country Roads.

Years later I was an adult working in Washington, DC, Mary came to my rescue when I asked her if I could rent a room with her.  Mary was living on Pryor Street then and both Sarah and Nora were away in college.  We sorted out the house rules and I lived there for about nine months.

At that time, I was working at Arena Stage and Mary decided that my job didn’t have much of a future and she steered me toward a career in the federal government.  That set me on a path to what became an interesting and satisfying career.  I have always been grateful to Mary for that gentle nudge.  Well, it was more like a kick in the pants.

After raising her children and retiring from her federal career, Mary returned to Berkeley Spring and her childhood home.  She had fun playing house, as she called it.  But she wisely ran a business to keep her occupied and enabled her to continue to meet interesting people and make new friends.

She jumped back into life in a small town and renewed old friendships and made new friends.  She enjoyed a certain amount of anonymity as a lot of people didn’t know that she knew so many people and picked up on some of the local gossip as well.

She became an avid bridge player, learning from my dad’s mother who was an excellent player.  Mary would also visit her to share a meal and play Scrabble.

Mary had the best sense of humor.  Years ago, my mother told me that Mary had called and asked her what time my mom woke up each day.  One of Mary’s daughters had suggested that Mary have a check-in call with someone nearby in case she wasn’t feeling well.  Mary said, “I think they’re just worried I’ll die and stink up the place.”

Shortly before my mother died, she was in the hospital.  Mary got her sister Ruth Ellen and they drove to the hospital to see her.  The hospital was only allowing family to visit her, and Mary said, “We’re her sisters.”  Who could argue with that?

I’d always drop in to visit Mary when I visited Berkeley Springs.  She was a link to my mother, but Mary and I had developed a great relationship over the years.  She was a wonderful friend and role model and mentor.  I sort of had Auntie Mame for a godmother and no godson had it so good.

 

Dark Shadows - after school television

 Jim Beard has a book out titled - Running Home to Shadows - memory of rushing home after school to watch the daytime gothic drama Dark Shadows.

Dark Shadows ran on ABC from 1967 to 1971 and usually hit my local station at 3:30 PM which gave me the right amount of time to get home from school and warm up the television.  The first episode aired on June 27, 1966 - the summer before I turned 8 years old.  I don't know how, but I honestly feel that I saw almost the first episode.

I was switching channels and I remember seeing the character Vickie Winters standing in front of the fireplace in the drawing room of Collinwood and somehow I was drawn in.  I wasn't one to watch soap operas and I didn't have a mother or grandmother who watched the show.  Nor do I remember telling anyone about the show for a while.

Mostly I was okay to watch it, unless my brother wanted to watch Ultraman - a Japanese television about a superhero.  I liked Ultraman okay for my own reasons, but it conflicted with Dark Shadows.  Alas, there were fights and finally trade-offs.

Even though I have re-watched those early episodes as an adult, I remember being drawn in by Vickie Winters trying to learn about her true family, and wondered why Elizabeth Collins Stoddard had not left Collinwood in 18 years.

I remembered the characters of Burke Devlin and Joe Haskell and Maggie Evans and her father Sam, the artist.  There was David Collins who was about my age and shared my name.  He was such a brat - but I identified with him anyway.  Especially because he was under the protection of Josette Collins and formed a friendship with the ghost of Sarah Collins.

Then the story got really creepy when David's mother Laura reappeared eventually luring David to her and attempting for them both to die by fire and rise like a phoenix from the ashes.  That had been their cycle of life for hundreds of years.

This time in 1967 Laura was thwarted because Vickie and Burke came to save David.  They would have saved Laura if she had but listened.

The show and my life really changed in April, 1967 when the character of Barnabas Collins appeared for the first time.  After that, the series really revolved around him.

In time there were books by Marilyn and Dan Ross, comic books, bubble bum and trading cards.  One year my sister gave me an album of the music from Dark Shadows.  I still have it - scratches and all.  I had a couple action models and the Barnabas Collins board game where you picked out bones to build a skeleton.  I sent away and got a Barnabas Collins ring that I wore until it broke.

I also ordered a Josette's music box - I still have that!  It is one of my treasures.  I sent a fan letter to the actor who played Barnabas, Jonathan Frid.  I got a postcard in return with a note that was maybe written by Mr. Frid.  I lost it along the way.  So sad.

My sister mentioned one time that if goth had been a thing when I was a kid I would have been goth - and agreed.  The show awakened my appreciation for all manner of classic horror films.  The Universal movies, the Hammer and American International movies too.  I also enjoyed the Addams Family and the Munsters - but they were never scary - just odd and fun.

One aspect of Barnabas Collins that spoke to me was his guilt about being a vampire and using his powers.  Don't get me wrong, for a long time Barnabas was the bad guy of the show and used his powers over Willie (his Renfield), Vickie, Carolyn and for a time, Dr. Julia Hoffman who was played deliciously by the actress Grayson Hall.

Over time Barnabas became a more noble character and was somewhat ashamed that he was a vampire.  This spoke to me as a preteen who was feeling the stirrings of gay attractions to my male friends and had crushes on a number of male adult and teen celebrities.  As a good Roman Catholic I never pursued any of these crushes and barely understood them.  But I had a sense that I shouldn't be that way, just like Barnabas hid that he was a vampire.

They actually didn't use the word vampire for the longest time.  There were inferences about the way he was, similar to how gay men in the 1960s were considered that way.

Storylines changed.  The character of Quentin Collins showed up played by actor David Selby who was from West Virginia, my home state.

There were witches and ghosts and a Frankenstein storyline, and a wolfman.  There was time travel.  There was a tie-in to the Oscar Wilde's Picture of Dorian Gray, and many other classic horror stories. 

As the years went by I had other afterschool activities and interests but I stayed connected to Dark Shadows.  I lost interest during the Leviathan storyline and still haven't seen those episodes.  Perhaps I will when I get to them in my current re-watching of the series.

Recently I learned about a podcast, Terror at Collinwood.  It has sparked my interest and I'm back to watching episodes of Dark Shadows.

My interest stays with classic horror movies - not the slasher movies like the Halloween series, or Nightmare on Elm Street, or Saw.  I've enjoyed some of the movies based on the books by Stephen King, but I haven't read any of them.

It was several years until I finally read Dracula by Bram Stoker.  A good friend opined that they have never made a faithful adaptaion of the book.  I agree - some have come close, but the directors always play with their interpretation.

Listening to the podcast has been a wonderful reminder of my childhood and everything I loved about cast and characters of Dark Shadows.  And lest I forget, the amazing Dan Curtis, the creator and director of the series.  The writers came up with wonderful stories.  Robert Cobert was the composer of the unique signature tune and all the incidental music that included Josette's theme, and Quentin's theme.

The sets were great, especially when you consider the budget they had.  Everything looked so opulent.  Granted I wasn't 10 years old - but upon re-watching, the sets hold up to my adult scrutiny.

I know I'm not alone in the very special place Dark Shadows holds in my life.  My memories from those years and that show have held a special place throughout my life and will for many more. 

Saving lives

For some time now I have joked/lamented about my innate ability for smelling bad smells and missing the good smells.

I'll be walking down the street with my husband George and he'll ask, "Did you smell that woman's perfume?" Or he'll ask me if I smelled some flowers as we passed by.  The answer is almost always no. 

If I stop and stick my nose into a lily, or a rose, or a magnolia blossom I'll smell the sweetness.  If I'm near a lilac bush when it is blooming I'll usually notice the scent.  But generally I miss those smells.

Now, when I walk in the front door of the house I can tell you if the lid is up on the trash can in the kitchen.  I smell stagnant water and garbage trucks and exhaust fumes and gasoline.  My favorite button in the car is the one that closes the vent to outside air!  It isn't so bad when the car is moving, but if we're sitting in traffic the intake is just pulling in exhaust fumes from the cars in front of us!

I have realized that one of the reasons I smell these odors is because most of them can trigger a migraine for me.  So my brain is on alert - to get away from those smells!

And sometimes I save lives.

The other evening we were celebrating my birthday.  About 20 friends and family members came to enjoy some great food, wine and conversation.  Later in the evening I was sitting in the living room talking to a few people and I noticed an odor.  I smelled gas.

I excused myself and walked into the kitchen (that is, left the living room, walked through the entryway and the dining room.)  Okay, it isn't a massive house, but it was still a couple rooms away.  There were 5 people standing in the kitchen talking and laughing.

George looked at me when I walked in and said, "What's up?"

"I'm just checking the burners on the stove," I replied.

Sure enough, one burner was on and wasn't lit.  One of the guests had been leaning against the stove and accidentally turned on the  gas. 

Not a big problem - there was a fan running in the kitchen and another in the dining room.  They actually helped get the odor to me in the living room.  No one was feeling dizzy or nauseous.  But... it could have been a problem if it had continued.

As of now I'm actually rather thankful that I smell the bad smells.  If it keeps us alive a bit longer then it's a blessing!

Why LGBT Pride event is important to me

This week I was one of the keynote speakers at the LGBT Pride event at my agency.  This was the first time our agency held such an event so it was a big deal for us.  Here are my remarks. 

A year ago at USACE Org Day I opened my phone and my Facebook feed had exploded with news of the Supreme Court decision on marriage equality.  It was a joyous day.  The LGBT community and our straight allies celebrated.  People gathered spontaneously in cities across the US. Buildings were lit with rainbow colors.

That evening I boarded a plane for St. Petersburg, Florida and the next day I marched with members of the Tampa Bay Pride Band at St. Petersburg Pride.  The community was elated.  The band played Bruno Mars’ Uptown Funk and the classic Chapel of Love.  The older folks in the crowd sang along, “Goin’ to the chapel and we’re gonna get married…”  It was amazing!

Just over two weeks ago I woke up and my phone exploded with the news of the attacks on the Pulse night club in Orlando and the murder of 49 LGBT and straight people – all of them younger than me – most of them were Latinos.

It made me realize why this Pride Celebration today was important and needed.

There are lots of people who think they don’t know anyone who is a Lesbian or Gay or Bisexual or Transgender.  Trust me – you do.

Sometimes I delude myself to think that people don’t know that I’m gay.  The reality is that most people don’t think about it.  That’s cool.  I get it.  I don’t tend to think about other people’s orientations either.  It isn’t a part of how we relate to others in our day-to-day business.

Where it does enter in is when we relate to each other as people.  On any Monday morning we ask others about their weekend.  Someone might say, 

“It was fun.  My wife and I took the kids to the beach."

Or, “My husband and I went out to dinner.”

But through a lifetime of being careful about what I say, I don’t usually say,

“Not much.  My husband and I did some work around the house.”

A few months ago a colleague asked me if I was married.  I instinctively lied and said no.  I denied my partner of almost 20 years who I married 2 ½ years ago because I was afraid to be honest.  I didn’t want to face the possible rejection.

That’s my fault.  It’s how I was raised.

I remember the first time I ever heard about homosexuality.  I was in 7^th grade and my family was watching a television program together.  That’s something that families did in the 60’s and 70’s.

The story involved a student who other students thought was gay.  At one point they put the word FAG on his locker.  I asked my mother what that meant and she said,

“It’s a term for a sick individual who likes people of the same sex.”

I was only beginning to be aware of my orientation and that wasn’t helpful.

A year or two passed and I started to understand more about myself and I even told a couple of friends.  Then the movie Deliverance came out – complete with a violent, homosexual rape scene.  I was horrified – if that’s what this means then I don’t want any part of it!

But I found a guidance counselor and few more friends and I learned to accept myself, but I still hid this from my family.

In college I had a number of Gay, Lesbian, Straight and Bi friends who knew that I was gay.  I never dated much.  For years I wanted to be a Catholic priest and while I pursued that I didn’t think that dating anyone would be a good idea.

After several years of applying to study for the priesthood and repeated rejections, a friend helped me let go of that dream.  Shortly after that I met George the man who is now my husband.  We dated; he met my family and met his.  We bought a house together, made it a home and built a life together.  But I still wasn’t out to my parents.

Does that surprise you?  Parents are remarkably adept at believing what they want to believe.  And they don’t tend to think of their children as sexual beings even when they get married and start raising families.

In 2000 I joined DC’s Different Drummers, the LGBT community band here in DC.  I play the trombone and I was looking for something musical and I joined the band. Suddenly I had lots of LGBT friends in my life.  And my life was good.  We had a home here in DC and neighbors who are mostly straight allies or other LGBT couples and families.  I traveled with members of LGBT bands from other cities and I made friends with several Transgender people.

It was actually from talking to a Trans man and hearing his story that I finally found the courage to come out to my parents.

So, at the tender age of 45 – I shared a secret that I had kept for over 30 years.  Fortunately my parents were accepting.  Actually, my mother has selective deafness.  The big moment came and I told them I was gay and my mother looked up and said, “What did you say?"

I thought, “Oh great!  Now I have to say it again!”  And I said it again and she said, “You know that doesn’t make any difference to us.”

I replied, “I’m glad!  Not all parents are accepting.”

A weight was lifted from me.  For the rest of their lives I wouldn’t need to hide anything or guard my conversation lest something slip.  It takes a lot of energy to keep a secret – energy that can be better used in living our lives and doing our work.

Now we get to today.  Today’s event is important because all of us are good people.

I don’t always notice the racism, bigotry and sexism that persists – until I do see it and I’m reminded of what others face on a daily basis.  I’m not claiming that I face that kind of discrimination personally, but many LGBT people do.  And LGBT people of color face it even more so.

It is important that we celebrate the contribution of LGBT people like Frank Kameny, TS Leonard Matlovich, Langston Hughes, HarveyMilk, Bayard Rustin, Congressman Barney Frank and Senator Tammy Baldwin, or Edie Windsor and Thea Spyer, or James Obergefell and John Arthur, or BG TammySmith.

It is important that we do this because we all know LGBT people.  It doesn’t have to be a big deal – but we need to not be invisible.   

We all know some LGBT people.  We are your brothers and sisters, your daughters and sons, perhaps a parent or an uncle or aunt.   We are your colleagues, your fellow soldiers, your co-workers, your neighbors and your friends.

Making friends

When did I forget how to make friends?  I never had a lot of friends. Many acquaintances but only a handful of close friends. But I had friends and we'd go to the movies or hang out and play games. 

Somewhere along the way I lost the ability to have friends to do things with. Some of that is from living in a city and my friends live 20 or 30 minutes away. 

I think I'm a fun person still. When I'm with people we all seem to have a good time. 

Thing is I'm at a point where I need some friends. One or two people who just want to hang out. Watch a movie on tv. Make popcorn. Maybe that's not exciting enough.  I try reaching out to people but my invitations fall flat. 

Well, here's my plea to the universe to send me friends and help me recognize them as friends.