Tag: A Letter to My Younger Self

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A Letter to My (Much) Younger Self by Gilllian

For Christ’s sake, Gillian, you’re ten bloody years old and …

No, I mustn’t swear. This is a letter to be read in the early 1950’s. And leave Christ out of it as well. You surely recall that at the age of nine you decided organized religion was a load of — , well, you rejected it.

Gillian, you really need to get your shit together.

Oops, that’s no better. Gillian, yes, YOU, the seventy-year old one, need to get YOUR act together. OK, act together, that’s better.

Gillian, you’re ten now, and it’s time you got your act together.

No, that really doesn’t work either. The ten-year-old Gillian IS acting; playing a part. And at some level she knows it. She needs no encouragement in acting. And it all sounds a bit distant and cool, doesn’t it? It shouldn’t. I feel great affection for, and of course empathy with, this desperately confused younger self. So here we go, AGAIN. Well, I didn’t expect this to be easy.

My dearest Gillian, (yes, MUCH better!)

Now you are ten, I think it’s time we had a little chat.

No, no! Too condescending.

My dearest Gillian,

Yes, you are only ten, but you have some pretty difficult stuff to deal with. I know you know what I mean, although you are trying oh so hard to hide it, even, or especially, from yourself. You think, in those rare times when you face up to thinking about it at all, that you are absolutely the only person in this entire world who is attracted to those of the same, rather than the opposite, sex. You think that somehow, in some way quite unclear to you at this time, these feelings will, magically, go away. They will not. I cannot guarantee you much, but that I can promise. No matter how hard you continue to refuse to accept them, they are going to strengthen until the day comes when you can no longer deny them to yourself, and so no longer wish to deny them to everyone else.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not advising you to ‘come out of the closet,’ (a phrase she is not yet even familiar with, needs explanation) that is, shout out on the school bus that you love girls not boys. Don’t kiss your best friend, though I know how much you have wanted to for quite some time. And don’t tell Mum and Dad. Dad, I suspect, would walk away without a word, and, if you tried to pursue it, might say something like, ‘I don’t ever want to hear that again,’ and walk faster, and further, away. Mum would, more predictably, say, “Oh Gillian! You’re being entirely too silly!” And that would be the unsatisfactory end to it.

The time and place would not be good. Caution is advised, my dear. (Good. Nice and warm, and what her mother often calls her.) In your current year, 1952, the Enigma codebreaker Alan Turing is being forced to take ‘cures’ for his homosexuality. (Don’t think the word ‘gay,’ though friendlier, would mean a thing. Come to think of it, neither would Turing nor Enigma, both being silenced for years to come under the Official Secrets Act. Never mind, she can get the idea.) Sir John Nott-Bower, commissioner of Scotland Yard is beginning to weed out homosexuals from the British Government, at the same time as McCarthy is conducting a homosexual witch hunt in the US. No, not a good time and place. (Though I suspect, in 1952, there was no good place.)

You will find this hard to believe, but my wonderful same-sex partner, of twenty-six years, and I are about to be legally married in the U.S., where same-sex marriage is now, nearing the end of 2013, legal in fourteen states.*

It is also legal in parts of Mexico, and legal throughout another sixteen countries.** The 21st century is an amazing place!

What I implore you to do, is, simply, look at yourself. Accept yourself. You are beautiful just the way you are, and one day you will know it. But if you deny it, hide it, try to make it go away, that will not work. You will hurt others.

Unintentionally, but the hurt is there all the same. And yourself. But there will be losses as well as gains. There will be sadness as well as joy. But make your life-choices consciously, for positive reasons, not negative ones, and never in denial of who you are, and who you must be. You are who you are. You have no choice. I know that now.

I wish, my dear Gillian, that I had known you, myself, a whole lot better in 1952. But here I am, sixty years later, still working at it, and very slowly I believe I’m getting there.

*
California, Connecticut, Iowa, Massachusetts, New Jersey, Delaware, Minnesota, New Hampshire, New York, Rhode Island, Vermont, Maine, Maryland, Washington, and Washington D.C.

**
Argentina (2010) Denmark (2012) The Netherlands (2000) South Africa (2006) Belgium (2003) England / Wales (2013) New Zealand (2013) Spain (2005) Brazil (2013) France (2013) Norway (2009) Sweden (2009) Canada (2005) Iceland (2010) Portugal (2010) Uruguay (2013)

October 2013

About the Author

I was born and raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to the U.S. and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the Denver-Boulder area since 1965, working for 30 years at IBM. I married, raised four stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting myself as a lesbian. I have now been with my wonderful partner Betsy for 25 years.

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A Letter to My Younger Self by Betsy

1952

My Dear Betsy,

What were you thinking. What’s even more important, what were you feeling? For that matter, take some time to think about what you are feeling. Logic is good, but it can get in the way of feeling. Too much logic and you by-pass your feelings, you don’t notice them. How you feel about something is ever so important. After all, your feelings probably determine how you are going to behave, whether you are happy or not, and whether or not you are at peace with the world and with yourself.

I can’t really blame you for acting like you are lost. You ARE lost. It’s hard to look at your feelings isn’t it? You know why that is, don’t you. They are feelings you are not supposed to have. Against the rules of social behavior, right? You’re not supposed to have a girl friend. You’re supposed to have a boy friend. Boys are supposed to excite you, but they don’t. Well, you know, you don’t have to pretend they do. It’s okay to feel as you do about the girls. Have a girl friend, and if hers is a romantic relationship, I understand that it must be secret. Someday you will be able to be at peace with who you really are. It’s true. In the little town in the deep south where you live now, it is unacceptable; in fact, I know of no place where it is acceptable for you to be openly homosexual. The important thing now is for you to recognize your true nature and who you really are and then embrace that, and love yourself. You must be free to love and be loved.

© 10 July 2013

About the Author 

Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver women’s chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change). She has been retired from the Human Services field for about 15 years. Since her retirement, her major activities include tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a volunteer instructor with National Sports Center for the Disabled, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage. She has a close relationship with her three children and enjoys spending time with her four grandchildren. Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her life with her partner of 25 years, Gillian Edwards.

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To My Younger Self by Nicholas

Frequently, I have conversations with myself. This is one I imagined between myself now and myself prior to coming out. It’s kind of a distillation of thoughts and counter-thoughts that occurred years ago or last month or yesterday. It’s a dialogue for one person.

Remember those walks we took, long meditative walks through the leafy, green forests of Ohio where the ground was wet and the air was wet with summer heat and I felt free, I said?
We spent hours walking softly through the soft shade of the soft forest just taking in the quiet, said he.
And i: You always had an independent streak, like the day you took off on your bike to crash through the neighborhood boundary and go riding through other neighborhoods in the city.
And he: You later took that desire for independence out into the world, to get out, to seek out, to discover and explore.
And i: We went into the city, we rode the Rapid into downtown, we went places to look at books and eat ice cream.
And he: You were courageous.
And i: That was courage?
And he: You didn’t have to.
And i: You were curious. Alone but always curious.
And he: But independence turned into loneliness, unloved and unloving, on my own. Things could be different.
And i: Yes, things could be different. I came to my senses, finally coming to myself. Yes, I had to.
And he: Eager to join the world, not just travel through it.
And i: I started seeing meanings and patterns that told me who I was, why I was, and who we were. I was brought up to see meaning, to find meaning, and suddenly it was there.
And he: It was a busy time, full of thoughts and actions never before taken or taken seriously. Hush, I said, listen, don’t talk, be quiet.
And i: We went to the woods and the river.
And he: I found release. Release to be a kid and play and release to grow up and own it. To make decisions and own them and own what followed.
And i: I found love, to be loved and to be loving.
And he: And I found love where I hadn’t thought it could be found before.
And i: Coming out was really a coming into: coming into love, relationships, fun, community, history.
And he: You won’t leave me now, will you?
And i: I won’t leave you and you won’t leave me because I can’t leave you and you can’t leave me.
—An homage to William Faulkner

About the Author

Nicholas grew up in Cleveland, then grew up in San Francisco, and is now growing up in Denver. He retired from work with non-profits in 2009 and now bicycles, gardens, cooks, does yoga, writes stories, and loves to go out for coffee.

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Letter to My Younger Self by Pat Gourley

My goodness where to start? Perhaps Dan Savage has written the ultimate short three word letter for many of us: It gets better!

If I ever needed to hear that advice it was probably around the age of eleven or twelve. For several years around that time, the late 1950’s, I was really tormented with the whole concept of sin and that I was certainly going to hell for being the major league transgressor I was sure that I was. My weekly confessions to the local parish priest were affairs I would agonize endlessly over for hours. I often felt they were not complete and that I had left some major heinous sin out of the litany for that week.

One might think this had to do with newly discovered joy of masturbation but I was nowhere near that, not for a few years yet, I was a late bloomer really. No it was more a vague persistent ennui, a sense that I was not quite right but different from my peers in not a good Catholic way. I distinctly remember around that time hearing or perhaps being called “queer” and looking this up in the dictionary. The definition given was “odd” and when I decided this was a great word to hurtle at my numerous siblings and cousins I was reprimanded soundly by my mother to not use that word because it could mean something besides “odd” though I was never provided with other meanings until several years later.

There was never much overt bulling in my Catholic School. The nuns were very good at enforcing order and beside they and our other non-clergy instructors were too busy enforcing a much more insidious and blanketed psychological form of bullying under the guise of shaping and forming the minds of young Catholic citizens.

Because of this nagging worry and guilt that my confessions did not include every sin committed I would often not take Sunday Communion. The injunction was that you needed to have confessed all outstanding sins on your books before partaking of the flesh and blood of Christ in the form of a miraculously transformed little wafer.

I don’t want to venture too far into the weeds of self-psychoanalysis here but I do think it was my fledgling queer awakening that was at the root of much of my sense of not being worthy to ingest the body and blood of Christ. It would of course attract much unwanted attention from family and fellow parishioners when I would not go up for Communion many Sunday mornings. My parents were aware of my ongoing angst and my dad even tried to address it one evening in a car ride we took together. In hindsight this was a very loving gesture but tended mostly to cement even further that there was something different about me. I now am reminded of a favorite caveat from Harry Hay one where he would say that straight fathers could smell a gay son. We actually smelled different was his conversation evoking meme. Perhaps my dad smelled something distinctly different about me.

My mental and physical agitation around trying to be the “best little boy in the world” would often take the form of behaviors now easily labeled as an obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). My actions were called “scrupulous” at the time and though I am not sure of this I think the parish priest reassured my parents that I would outgrow it. My OCD was of course really the result of buying into the Catholic Religion and its not so subtle forms of child abuse and trying I thought to respond appropriately. I am not referring to the really rarer than you might think forms of overt pedophilia some clergy excelled in but rather I feel the much more widespread, serious and damaging psychological terror inflicted by the relentless indoctrination. Applying the word ‘scrupulous’ to me was of course incorrect. The correct word to use would have been “temperamental” a code word for a gay fellow in the 1950’s. Is he ‘temperamental’ men would ask of one another when discretion was appropriate?

The Baltimore Catechism to call attention to one such codified bunch of superstitious baloney from my childhood was a daily part of our school lives. This catechism was a set of questions and of course the absolutely correct answers, which we were repeatedly, told we needed to accept on Faith. Talk about a recipe for mental strife if ever one existed particularly those who are not prone to being comfortable with simply being a quiescent blob of protoplasm. It is I now feel one of the worst forms of child abuse to begin fostering on young innocent emerging minds while still at their mothers breast that they are sinners right out of the box and in need of salvation. Later on in one who is beginning to sense a profound difference from all those he encounters around him this can be quite the obstacle to overcome! A brief quote here from the late Christopher Hitchens on “Faith:”

“ Faith is the surrender of the mind,
it’s the surrender of reason, it’s the surrender of the only thing that makes
us different from other animals.”

So my letter to myself at this time in my life of great mental turmoil would really just be advice to hang in there and it will get better. In a few short years you will run into a nun who will challenge many of your most firmly held beliefs on how the world really works. You also will meet and begin having an ongoing sexual relationship with one of your high school teachers and the first such episode will be on a dissecting table in the school biology lab with Jesus looking down from a crucifix right behind you. Wow, did it ever get better.

© October 2013

About
the Author

I was born in La Porte Indiana in 1949, raised on a farm and schooled by Holy Cross nuns. The bulk of my adult life, some 40 plus years, was spent in Denver, Colorado as a nurse, gardener and gay/AIDS activist. I have currently returned to Denver after an extended sabbatical in San Francisco, California.

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A Letter to My Younger Self by Louis

Uncle Louis went to visit his brother, Arthur, for Christmas in California, and stayed for a couple of weeks visiting. One evening, UL and nephew Louis (NL) started chewing the fat, so to speak.

Louis Jr. has his own opinions. He is 12 years old, is somewhat athletic and is above average in intelligence but not a genius. He had a long conversation with his gay uncle (moi), and politics, religion, adjusting to a world that is not particularly friendly to gay people. Also discussed were politics, religion and the meaning of following one’s career, etc.
UL: So what do you in the athletics department, Louis?
NL: Well, Mommy and Daddy enrolled me in the local Little League. I played in a couple of baseball games. I told Mommy and Daddy that I was uncomfortable competing to try and beat the other team. Being on a team seemed to me like being in a “herd.” So they let me off the hook.
UL: Your Mommy and Daddy and I know you are gay, you know you are gay; how many problems does that cause you?
NL: Everybody who cares knows I am gay, but no one makes an issue of it. If a bully tries to push me around, my friends intervene and stop the bully. I might add that I do enjoy playing volley ball. I like hitting the ball and shouting and hollering, but which team actually “wins” the game is sort of vague. I like that. There aren’t any grown-ups around keeping track who won what.
UL: I can’t tell you what to read and what to think, but I would like to know what you’ve read, already.
NL: Well, I do like to read, especially magazines about hiking and sport cars. I know there is such a thing as “classical literature”. I tried reading Dickens, I didn’t get it. I did enjoy reading Penrod by Booth Tarkington and Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer because they were stories about kids my own age.
UL: Maybe when you are a little older you might want to read Moby Dick and poetry by Emily Dickinson. Sometimes when you read books, there are different levels of meaning. Picking up on the deeper meanings makes the reading more enjoyable.
NL: Yes, maybe one day.
UL: Do you pick sides when you watch TV and see our two political parties arguing.
NL: Well, Daddy tells me he used to be a Republican. I do not completely understand what they are fighting about; I know I think they quarrel too much.
UL: What does Dad think about you getting into the Army or Air Force or Navy one of these days?
NL: I think, uh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be a pacifist. We have a debating club at school, and some of the kids say the wars we engage in all the time are dumb. Still, I like the idea of the discipline becoming maybe a State Trooper or maybe the Coast Guard.
UL: One of these days, you are probably going to choose a boy friend to live with on a permanent basis. Some of our moral leaders think you should treat your mate like a sub-human.
NL: Actually, I noticed Mommy and Daddy don’t treat each other that way, and actually I already have a sort of boy friend. Sometimes we go to the movies together. His name is Bobby, and I don’t think he is a sub-human. He’s two years older than I am.
UL: Of course, you have to watch out. Your present or future boyfriend might treat you like a sub-human.
NL: Well, if that happens, I guess I will look elsewhere for a mate.
UL: In the past, many preachers used to rant and rave against gay people in church. Do you go to church?
NL: Mommy and Daddy take me to church about once a month. To be frank, I don’t get it. The preacher tells us we need a moral compass, a light-house to guide us. What does that mean?
UL: I think it means sometimes you get into a predicament and you don’t know which way to turn so you trust what your moral teachings indicate. In reality, though, you have to make your own decisions. Most people think that the Republican Party, especially today’s Republican Party, only protect the interests of wealthy people, and that the Democratic Party, does pretty much the same thing but does care more about middle class people and the poor. Are you going to be a Democrat or Republican?
NL: My older Brother, Wally, just started college and he joined the campus chapter of the Young Republicans. He said he is going to try and encourage the Republican Party to be more middle-of-the-road. Mommy is a Democrat but lately she is unsure they are the good guys. I think there is a possibility of a third choice. One day when I know more, I can make up my mind.
UL: What happens when your government gets enthusiastic about some war, but you have your doubts? I think you should ask yourself some skeptical questions like who really benefits from this war? The military contractors? The arms manufacturers? What if you think the American public does not really derive any benefit from the war?
NL: Well, I’m a kid. I guess I’ll think about that later.
UL: The last big important question. What is your attitude toward poor people, toward homeless people, people who do not have enough to eat.
NL: Mommy used to volunteer at a soup kitchen on the other side of town. Over there people live in run-down shanties, and some of them do not smell so good, Mommy says.
She was able to buy good food in bulk, at whole – sale prices so the soup kitchen could afford to feed a hundred people or so. She said she felt good about it. I care about poor people. One day I probably will get involved in feed the hungry campaigns. I do see pictures of starving children in Africa and India. It’s sad. And then of course there are the sick and dying in the hospitals. Something to think about.
After I returned home to New York, about a month later, I received a letter from Louis’ mother in which she said that, in Louis’ school, she met with Louis’ guidance counselor who told her that he thought that Louis was “mal-adjusted”. She asked me my opinion. I told her that I had a long talk with nephew Louis, and au contraire I thought he was very well-adjusted. He has no unwholesome prejudices about himself or others. He just feels uncomfortable in a competitive sports environment, but he makes good moral judgments when he needs to. Nephew Louis likes school, likes to read so he should do well academically.

10-01-2013

About the Author

I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City, Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s. I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.

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A Letter to My Younger Self by Will Stanton

I have pondered this, on and off, for a long time. If I miraculously could go back in time, start over, but know what I know now, would it be so different? Of course, such speculation is a moot point, for I doubt that there is much chance of my having that opportunity. But, the main question is, “How much difference to my life would knowing more make, versus how dominant would my innate nature be? Which would hold sway?”

If I sequestered myself from the intruding world, thought long and hard, and wrote a series of letters to myself at various early ages, letters containing every scrap of learned wisdom from my years of experience, would that information prompt me to make significantly different decisions and choices in my childhood? Would I more fully comprehend much earlier how challenging the real word is and how well one must be prepared to live successfully in it?

Would I have chosen a totally different course for my life, picked early-on a future profession, studied much harder? Would I have realized how essential it is to master good people-skills so that I could understand and relate better to my family, my friends, school-mates, teachers, and my work-colleagues?

In addition, would I have realized that childhood is a brief period when one truly can be a child, to play, to have fun? It seems in retrospect that I was expected to be the “young gentleman,” to behave, not to explore or experiment too much. I sometimes feel, as apparently a few friends of mine feel, that somehow I missed that period of being a child.

Then, there is my own nature. How much of that was in-born, and how much of that was learned from early childhood? I seem to have been hesitant, lacking spontaneity. I was not blindly self-confident, a risk-taker. I was more of the observer than the doer. I thought extensively about what I observed, wondering, reconsidering.

I was a bit of a dreamer, too. I think part of that came from my sense of incompleteness with my family. I began to dream of being someone else, being somewhere else, being part of a truly supportive and loving family. Despite my having had many varied and pleasant opportunities not always available to others, they were of relatively lesser importance. I do not recall ever having had truly practical guidance or advice from anyone, not from my parents, not from teachers or school counselors, not from caring mentors during my adult life. Many highly successful people have stated that an essential contributing factor in their success was having had a mentor who could help teach them and show the way to success. I never had that.

For some time now, I have sensed that what was lacking in my life has weighed heavily upon me. It has been like heavy baggage, dragged throughout my life and misdirecting my energies away from pursuing practical goals that could have enhanced my life.

Perhaps, in theory, if I could provide informative letters to myself that I could read at various points in my early life, I could, in a sense, be my own mentor. Maybe that would make a worthwhile difference in my life. On the other hand, would my dreamy, artistic nature and my natural aversion to taking risks have negated much of that advantage? It is an interesting question but not worth devoting much time to. My formative years were a very long time ago.

© 1 October 2013

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.

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A Letter to My 9½-Year Old Self by Ricky

7 October 2013

Dear Ricky,

This may be difficult for you to believe, but this letter is from you. I, that is you, wrote it to yourself 55½ years in your future. I borrowed a friend’s prototype time travel device so I could mail this letter to me (you) so you (I) would receive it January 2, 1958. All the scientists believe it would be a bad thing for us (you and I) to actually see or touch each other [something to do with destroying the universe], thus this letter.

You are now 9½ and are experiencing a major event in your life, the divorce of your parents. I know how you feel because I was you 55½ years ago. I won’t tell you many details of your future, but I am giving you some advice that should make your journey into the future a little bit easier to deal with. Trust me in this; or rather trust yourself not to lie to yourself. So, here are 17 things I feel you should know at your age.

1. First off: Don’t be afraid. I am proof that you have a long life ahead. Yes you will be reckless and sometimes do dangerous or downright stupid things, but you live through all of them.

2. Don’t continue to withdraw into yourself because of the divorce. Even though your grandparents don’t hug you enough, they still love you and always will. Everything works out just fine. Your new step-father is a good man and is not violent towards you. You will see and travel with our father twice a year for many years to come.

3. Have a bit of fun with your grandmother by telling her that your mother remarried and just gave birth to twins today (January 2nd). Our mother has not told her yet, so she doesn’t know about the marriage or the pregnancy.  Her reaction should be amusing. 

4. You, or should I say “we”, turn out to be a good person and you will be a good older brother to the twins.

5. Don’t be a social wall-flower. Be the person who makes the first move in becoming friends with others that you will meet. It will make a big difference in how you feel.

6. As you grow up, there will come a time when you will notice that your male peers will stop thinking that girls have “cooties” and will want to spend more time with them than you. This is a normal part of growing up so don’t take it personally. There will be boys who want to spend their time with other boys instead of girls. This is also normal. If you have those special feelings for other boys don’t worry it will all be okay. Be warned though. Society during your time does not look kindly upon boy on boy (or man on man) love, so be cautious of any activity in that area, if you become so inclined. It will take years, but society changes so it does get better. If you wish to get married and have a family, go for it.

7. On 14 May 2013, buy a “Powerball” ticket with the numbers: 2, 11, 26, 34, 41, PB 32.  On 2 August 2013, buy a “Powerball” ticket with the numbers: 21, 24, 36, 42, 45, PB15.  On 13 September 2013, buy a “Powerball” ticket with the numbers: 1, 17, 25, 37, 44, PB 20.   Do this and you will have a total of $977 million.

8. Your new step-brother is 5-years older than you, but he is a good and decent person. However, I strongly advise that you don’t eat any of his secret stash of cookies when the opportunity arises in 3-years.

9. Join the Boy Scouts as soon as you are invited to join. You won’t regret it.

10. When you get to high school, tryout for the school plays. There will be two per year. Pester your mother and step-father until they commit to letting you do it.

11. Don’t bother with high school sports. Keep up a good academic standing instead. Your family duties will prevent you from participating anyway.

12. When you get back to California and live in a resort the first summer back, take lots of pictures of what you will be doing there. I have none and wish I had some from that period of time.

13. Practice dancing and go to school dances, but don’t be a wall-flower. Make someone happy and dance with them.

14. Brush your teeth twice a day or suffer the physical and financial consequences.

15. Keep a daily journal.

16. Re-read the original Peter Pan often. Don’t ignore the lessons contained therein.

17. Pay attention in English classes and learn to write well so you can write this letter to yourself when you reach my age. Who knows—in another 55½ years, I may write to you again because I know where you live.

Sincerely,
Your Future Self

PS: Here are two photos taken 6-months in the future to prove this letter is for real.

       Gale, Ricky, Gene, Dale                July 2, 1958                         Gale & Dale

  © 7 October 2013

About the Author

Ricky was born in 1948 in downtown Los Angeles. He lived first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach both suburbs of LA. Just days prior to turning 8 years old, he was sent to live with his grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years while (unknown to him) his parents obtained a divorce.

When reunited with his mother and new stepfather, he lived one summer at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, he moved to Denver, Colorado where he lived with his wife of 27 years and their four children. His wife passed away from complications of breast cancer four days after 9-11.

He came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. He says, “I find writing these memories to be very therapeutic.”

Ricky’s story blog is “TheTahoeBoy.blogspot.com”.

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A Letter to My Younger Self by Phillip Hoyle

Note: I write this letter to a 19-year-old me not because I am upset over any decisions I made or over the life I lived subsequent to making them. My life has been fine; still there were a few crises I could have navigated differently. I write this letter from a point of view I could never have imagined, to a person who did not enough maturity of thought, feeling, or experience to have made other choices. In writing this letter, I am only thinking about a what-if that did not occur. I know that at 19 I may not have been able to imagine any of the things I now can at age 66! But, here goes anyway.

Spring, 1967

Dear Phillip,

I heard through your sisters about your recent breakup with your girlfriend. They seem upset about the severing of a growing tie, but I’m not quite sure what all informs their feelings. I do know they really like Myrna for her lively spirit and generosity. Yes, I like her too and am sorry for your loss and whatever feelings you are having right now. I wish I knew for sure what they are! I imagine they are quite mixed.

Breakups are difficult for all the feelings, but they are also opportunities of evaluation of one’s needs and interests. I remember your complaint about other ministerial students in your dorm who list all their requirements for their prospective wives: their looks, personality, musicianship, ability to teach, organize, cook well, get along, and so forth. I applaud your perspective that these lists are both hopeless and actually quite demeaning. I believe growing up with your sisters trained you well to look at women for who they are, not for what they will provide you. I was happy for you when you attached yourself to a young woman who was so independent and lively. I applaud.

One of your sisters told me that Myrna initiated the breakup out of her frustration that the two of you have difficulty talking with one another. I’m sure this reasoning frustrates you for in general you have no difficulty talking. Surely you are meeting with a frustration men commonly have in learning to relate to the women in their lives. We guys like to talk about our ideas, our work, and our activities; we tend to find it difficult to talk about our feelings in the ways many women desire to talk. That’s a plain old problem for most relationships between men and women.

I want to recommend something to you. Write down your own thoughts. Try to make sense of them from all your friendships and flirtations since junior high. List all the people you think might make a good partner for you or you might imagine yourself living with in adulthood—married or not. Erase any assumptions you may have that are similar to your dorm mates’. (You may be surprised to find that you are not all that different from them.) Write down your initial thoughts, those you had when Myrna left you alone in the chapel sitting there on the piano bench. Read and edit your thoughts. Evaluate them. This breakup can help you have freedom in your choices henceforth; it can help you understand yourself and your needs.

I love you, Phillip. I love your music, your artwork, your kindness towards others, your religious motivations, and your imagination. I love how you have learned to work, study, and reason. Please don’t shortchange yourself emotionally, academically, or vocationally. There are many, many ways to be a minister. There are many, many honorable kinds of work. There are many, many opportunities awaiting a person just like you. They are there for you. I hope for you more experience of the world before you make such an important decision about any kind of life partnership.

You will be tempted to run away from or to run back into whatever security Myrna represents for you. Please think deeply and honestly about these matters. Give yourself more time to mature. (I know that sounds awful.) Think about exactly what you want to do with your talents. Your life is right now wide open and your abilities can serve as doorways to many opportunities. Don’t shut too many doors too quickly. Good luck. God bless.

Love,

(signed) Your Self Yet to Be

About the Author

Phillip Hoyle lives in Denver and spends his time writing, painting, giving massages, and socializing. His massage practice funds his other activities that keep him busy with groups of writers and artists, and folk with pains. Following thirty-two years in church work, he now focuses on creating beauty and ministering to the clients in his practice. He volunteers at The Center leading “Telling Your Story.

He also blogs at artandmorebyphilhoyle.blogspot.com