Tag: Birthdays

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Birthdays, by Betsy

The following is an imaginary voice from the Universe heard inside a woman’s uterus by a viable life preparing for its day of birth.

“Now is the time for you to make your choice. You may choose from these two options: gay or straight. In other terms—homosexual or heterosexual. Before you decide let me explain the consequences of your choice.

“If you select the gay option you will have many obstacles in your life that you otherwise would not have. You will be considered abnormal by many people from the start, you could very easily find yourself being discriminated against by employers, landlords, merchants, and service providers. The law may possibly not offer any recourse for you if and when you are discovered depending on how the movement goes and the state of civil rights. You could actually be put in jail if you are found out.

“You may feel constrained to stay in the closet for a long, long time, maybe forever. That means denying your truth to yourself and to others. This could have a serious impact on your emotional and mental health—possibly on your physical health as well.

“If you try to express your sexuality and live as the person you are; i.e. live as an openly gay person, you risk your safety, security, and well being. You will keep your self esteem and self respect however. But there may be a price to pay for that.

“If you select the straight option life should be easier for you. You will derive benefits from marrying a person of the opposite sex. As a woman you will be safe if you serve him well. You will be secure if you do his bidding. You will have no difficult choices to make because they will all be made for you and to your advantage if you stay in line. The only risk for you is that you might screw up because you don’t realize that you have all the advantages.

“As I said, it’s your choice.”

The above scenario is, of course, absurd. None of this would happen because this choice is not available to us. This choice is never given to any of us before birth. We are born LGBTQ or heterosexual or gender fluid or whatever else yet to be defined—whatever else exists on the sexuality spectrum.

The choice is made when we become aware, conscious, of ourselves—our feelings, what drives us, with whom we fall in love. We make the choices later in life when we understand that there IS a choice— and that choice, as we all know, is not who we ARE by birth, but whether or not we choose to LIVE as an expression of who we are.

Personally, I understand very well the consequences of denying who I am and living as someone I am not. Once I became aware of my sexual orientation I was able to make that choice, respect myself, and be happy and fulfilled.

Those who wish to change us LGBTQ’s, punish us, put us away, or whatever, seem to imagine that we all experience the above in-utero scenario and we should be punished or, at least, forced to change because we made the wrong choice. We made the choice in-utero and were born gay yes on our first birthday, because we chose to. REALLY! Or, if they do not accept that absurdity, they want to punish us for expressing our real selves—for living as gay people.

I choose to live in a world which accepts every newborn baby for exactly what it is—everything that it is. I choose to welcome every life into this world as perfect as I did one week ago my first great grand child.

You know, I’m convinced he’s gay because of the way he waved when he was born. Then when he started primping his bald head his mother and grandmother and Auntie Gill were convinced too. He’s lucky. He knows he is loved by us all—gay or straight.

© 14 November 2016

About the Author

Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading, writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage. She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren. Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.

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Birthdays, by Betsy

The following is an imaginary voice from the Universe heard
inside a woman’s uterus by a viable life preparing for its day of birth.
“Now is the time for you to make your choice.  You may choose from these two options: gay or
straight.  In other terms—homosexual or
heterosexual.  Before you decide, let me
explain the consequences of your choice.
“If you select the gay option you will have many obstacles
in your life that you otherwise would not have. You will be considered abnormal
by many people from the start, you could very easily find yourself being
discriminated against by employers, landlords, merchants, and service
providers. The law may possibly not offer any recourse for you if and when you
are discovered depending on how the movement goes and the state of civil
rights.  You could actually be put in
jail if you are found out.
“You may feel constrained to stay in the closet for a long,
long time, maybe forever. That means denying your truth to yourself and to
others. This could have a serious impact on your emotional and mental health—possibly
on your physical health as well.
“If you try to express your sexuality and live as the
person you are; i.e. live as an openly gay person, you risk your safety,
security, and wellbeing. You will keep your self-esteem and self-respect
however. But there may be a price to pay for that.
“If you select the straight option life should be easier
for you.  You will derive benefits from
marrying a person of the opposite sex. As a woman, you will be safe if you serve
him well.  You will be secure if you do
his bidding.  You will have no difficult
choices to make because they will all be made for you and to your advantage if
you stay in line.  The only risk for you
is that you might screw up because you don’t realize that you have all the
advantages. 
“As I said, it’s your choice.”
The above scenario is, of course, absurd. None of this would
happen because this choice is not available to us. This choice is never given
to any of us before birth. We are born LGBTQ or heterosexual or gender fluid or
whatever else yet to be defined—whatever else exists on the sexuality
spectrum. 
The choice is made when we become aware, conscious, of
ourselves—our feelings, what drives us, with whom we fall in love. We make the choices
later in life when we understand that there IS a choice— and that choice, as we
all know, is not who we ARE by birth, but whether or not we choose to LIVE as
an expression of who we are.
Personally, I understand very well the consequences of
denying who I am and living as someone I am not. Once I became aware of my
sexual orientation I was able to make that choice, respect myself, and be happy
and fulfilled. 
Those who wish to change us LGBTQ’s, punish us, put us
away, or whatever, seem to imagine that we all experience the above in-utero
scenario and we should be punished or, at least, forced to change because we
made the wrong choice.  We made the
choice in-utero and were born gay yes on our first birthday, because we chose
to. REALLY!  Or, if they do not accept
that absurdity, they want to punish us for expressing our real selves—for
living as gay people.
I choose to live in a world which accepts every newborn
baby for exactly what it is—everything that it is.  I choose to welcome every life into this
world as perfect as I did one week ago my first great grandchild.
You know, I’m convinced he’s gay because of the way he
waved when he was born. Then when he started primping his bald head his mother
and grandmother and Auntie Gill were convinced too.  He’s lucky. He knows he is loved by us all—gay
or straight.
© 14 Nov 2016 
About the Author 
Betsy has been active in
the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old
Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been
retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major
activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a
volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading,
writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage.
She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren.
Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her
life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.
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Birthdays, by Pat Gourley

My birthday is January 12th and I was born in 1949
in LaPorte Indiana. So for my first 67.5 years of life on earth I was (per
popular astrology) a Capricorn. I did have my astronomical chart drawn and
calculated for me once many years ago.  I
always responded when asked my sign that I was a Capricorn. Then those with
whom I had just shared this vital information would respond with a nod and
often saying with authority ‘of course you are’.  Strange how very rarely these days I am ever
asked my sign when it was often the next thing out your mouth after stating
one’s name in the 1970’s, at least in the circles I traveled in.
Needless to say, I was surprised, though not particularly
dismayed, to learn that I was no longer a Capricorn but thanks to the National
Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) I was now a Sagittarius. NASA went
an added a 13th zodiac sign to possibly be born under: Ophiuchus (I think
phonetically pronounced: ‘oh-fuck-us’)! I have linked below to a couple
articles that I used in researching this new and to many a very disturbing
development. That would be the crowd that has for years planned their day at
least in part after reading their horoscope in the daily paper or blaming all
sorts of bad stuff on Mercury in retrograde.
Maybe that’s why you hear less about people’s zodiac signs
since who reads the print media anymore. I am sure though that an app must
exist for those not willing to venture outside without first checking what’s up
for them that day per 3000 year old Babylonian mythology.
So what’s up with this additional zodiac sign? Well in a
rather snarky quote from Laurie Cantillo of the Planetary Exploration,
Heliophysics Department she explained why they added a 13th zodiac sign called
Ophiuchus: “We didn’t change any zodiac signs, we did the math. NASA reported
that because the Earth’s axis has changed, the constellations are no longer in
the same place they were thousands of years ago”. This shift in axis is due its
theorized to lost ice related to global warming causing the Earth to sort of
tip to one side. Oops! Try telling folks born under the new sign of Ophiuchus
that man-made climate change is a hoax.
Apparently, this update in the zodiac signs by NASA, perhaps the
first such adjustment since the Babylonians first go at it 3000 years ago, has
resulted in 86% of us now having a different sign. This of course radically
alters the daily advice we need to be following if we still use these bromides
to plan our life. Actually, if you are still relying on this advice I find that
more disturbing than whether or not you  are consulting the correct sign.
I am reminded of the apparently true stories of Nancy Reagan
frequently consulting her personal astrologer, the late Joan Quigley, for
advice during their years in the White House on how or when she and Ronnie
should proceed in conducting personal, national and world affairs. That
explains a few things doesn’t it! Reagan was born on February 6th,
which made him a Sagittarius in the old 12-sign model, but now we know he
should have been a Capricorn. We are left to ponder how different the world might
be today if Nancy’s astrologer had been feeding them the correct celestial
information!
One small caveat on how this change has been for me
personally sheds a bit of light on my sexual escapades of the past 50 years.
You can find all sorts of attributes attributable to your sign on-line though
many have not caught up with the addition of Ophiuchus. There is even sexual
stimulation advice available. For Capricorns, you can supposedly drive them to
a frenzy of sexual madness by tickling them behind the kneecaps. Since I am no
longer a Capricorn but was really a Sagittarius oh these many years that
explains why nobody ever got me off tickling me behind my knees! As a Sagittarius,
I can apparently be brought to the brink of orgasm by stroking my inner thighs.
Though I think this is getting closer to pay dirt, a stimulating move farther
north involving a sustained reach-around will still be required for a happy
ending.
Capricorn: Jan 20-Feb 16
Aquarius: Feb 16-March 11
Pisces: March 11-April 18
Aries: April 18-May 13
Taurus: May 13-June 21
Gemini: June 21-July 20
Cancer: July 20-Aug 10
Leo: Aug 10-Sept 16
Virgo: Sept 16-Oct 30
Libra: Oct 30-Nov 23
Scorpio: Nov 23-Nov 29
Ophiuchus: Nov 29-Dec 17
Sagittarius: Dec 17-Jan 20
https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2016/09/26/chaos-in-the-zodiac-some-virgos-are-leos-now-but-nasa-couldnt-care-less/
http://www.cosmopolitan.co.uk/entertainment/news/a45943/star-sign-horoscope-change-2016/
© 27 Nov
2016 
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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Birthdays, by Gillian

The only problem with birthdays is, there are waaaay too many of them; both vertically and horizontally, if you get my drift.

Vertically, the number is ever-increasing because the average longevity is ever-increasing, at least in what we choose to call the ‘developed’ countries. But the overall world life expectancy has also risen. According to my favorite go-to website, Wikipedia, worldwide life expectancy has risen dramatically just in our lifetime, from 48 in 1950 to 67 in 2010. Since 1900, when it stood at 31 – well, you can do the math – it has more than doubled. In short, many lives are enjoying way too many birthdays.

Horizontally, there are many more humans to enjoy this increasing number of birthdays; exponentially more. Not quite in our own lifetimes, but between 1900 and 2000, the world population increased from 1.5 billion to over 6 billion; in one hundred years an increase three times greater than the entire previous history of humanity. The graph depicting this is an amazing picture.


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Longevity

But I took a break from writing this and now it is November 9th 2016. The day after Election Day. Two days after my birthday, so I’m happy to say I was able to enjoy the anniversary of my birth before disaster struck.

Today I feel nauseated, have a pounding headache, and cannot stop crying. How did this terrible thing happen? I remind myself that Clinton won the popular vote, but much good that does. I remind myself that, with almost half of all eligible voters not voting, and half of those who did vote voting for Hilary, Trump voters comprise only 25% of the eligible voters of this country. But much good that does.

My next birthday will be my 75th – a kind of semi-significant milestone. I wonder what horrors will have befallen us all by then. I fear for myself, for our country, and for the world. I am not alone. My cousin in London e-mails that she is ‘deep in the slough of despond’ which, I reply, is a mighty crowded place about now.

Now it is Sunday the 13th. On Friday evening, Betsy and I went to the usual Friendly Friday gathering of our HOA. Officially we had ended Friendly Fridays for the year when we put back the clocks, but many of us felt a particular need for comfort this week, so planned one more.

One of our neighbors was handing out safety pins, and introduced us to the Safety Pin Movement. Here at least is something we all can do now, with minimal effort and cost, to show solidarity with each other – all of us in fear from Trump’s promised oppressions.

According to a post on Twitter, here is what the safety pin signifies – the message it sends to those who see you wear it.
If you wear a hijab, I’ll sit with you on the train.
If you are trans I will go to the bathroom with you.
If you’re a person of color, I’ll stand with you if the cops stop you.
If you’re a person with disabilities, I’ll hand you my megaphone.
If you’re an immigrant, I’ll help you find resources.
If you are a survivor, I’ll believe you.
If you’re a refugee, I’ll make you welcome.
If you’re a veteran, I’ll take up your fight.
If you’re LGBTQ, I won’t let anyone tell you you are broken.
If you are a woman, I’ll make sure you get home OK.
If you’re tired, me too.
If you need a hug, I’ve got an infinite supply.
If you need me, I’ll be with you.
All I ask is that you be with me, too.

I have never before thought of the safety pin as a great weapon, but perhaps at this moment it is.

It is at least one small, non-combative, way to begin to push back.

Otherwise, all we have is the popular misquote of Tiny Tim at the close of Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol –

God help us, every one.

© November 2016

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 been with my wonderful partner Betsy for thirty years. We have been married since 2013.

Posted on

Birthdays, by Ray S

Forgive me because I have used this opening before. Atlanta is burning, panic prevails, and to add to this mix Scarlett O’Hara and her Black slave are driving the wagon hell-bent for election to somewhere that she can deliver her baby girl. And this is the punch line hysterically delivered by Butterfly McQueen: “I don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout birthin’ no baby, Miss Scarlett!” Where was Rhett when he was needed?

The one important thing all of us everywhere have in common is our very first birthday. After that first spanking life’s up for grabs.

Some of us have been blessed with so many birthday parties that we can’t distinguish one from another. Sure, if you really think hard, there were special times in a specific year, but if you have survived eighty or so, you can’t remember. Then there is always dementia waiting to creep into one of your parties. Good luck.

On a joyful note: on the occasion of my 91st birthday I was reminded by the receipt of so many congratulatory greetings that my world still loved me and wished me well in hanging on ‘til number 92 crept up. The week featured a lunch or dinner to the point that I was relieved when I had one free night at home.

Be reminded: “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” Birthdays—at least mine—give so much love and to give back so very much love.

Sometimes certain birthdays provoke regrets. A love life gone away, a death in your immediate or extended family, or you wonder why you had to wait so very long to discover who you really are and what to do with this newfound knowledge. The latter can become a really happy birthday gift. This is the ever-present specter, ageing, and its complications. Sometimes it seems to be really difficult to reach that ‘happy ending.’

Meantime there is one thing we could do upon meeting another birthday—yours or mine. Reach out and embrace each other. It is the best present we can give each other. Time’s a wasting!

© 14 November 2016

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No to the ‘Cision and the Italian Renaissance, by Louis Brown

In my humble case, I was born October 23, 1944. I was delivered by a Dr. Levy. A day or two after I was born, Dr. Levy told my mother that it was time for me to go to the chopping block. My mother said “no.” I have always wondered exactly what my mother might have actually said. Maybe she said, “No, thanks, I am not into infant mutilation.” I have always wondered why some Jewish men I have spoken to speak lovingly of circumcision because it brings them, the victims, closer to God. What are they talking about? I think most people would agree that, if an adult uncircumcised Jewish man chooses to get circumcised, no one would object. Otherwise leave the babies alone. I believe the euphemism for that body part is “French lace.”

Birthday in French is la naissance. The rebirth is la renaissance. Think of the Italian Renaissance! Why should I? Because the Italian Renaissance was another golden age for gay men. Recently I was talking with a recent college grad who said he did not know what the word Europe meant. If this college graduate does not know what Europe means, he certainly is not going to be up on his Italian Renaissance history. So, is it not our responsibility to foster a discussion of the IR? Especially inform gay men of their, our, illustrious past.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, 1475-1564, Leonardo da Vinci, 1452-1519, Andrea del Sarto, 1486-1530, Caravaggio, 1571-1610, Sandro Botticelli, 1445-1510. Benevuto Cellini, 1500-1571. And the biographer who kept track of their lives, Giorgio Vasari, 1511-1574.

Speaking of birthdays, how about the Birth of Venus by Sandro Botticello? Or the birth of Adam, as portrayed by Michaelangelo Buonaroti on the Sistine Chapel ceiling?

I am sure for us this is all old hat, but for the recent not so well-informed college graduates, this is all unknown territory. How do we change this situation?

Giorgio Vasari (Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori e architettori, una serie di biografie nella quale egli copre l’intero canone artistico teso tra Trecento e Cinquecento.)

I visited Florence and Rome, Italy, once in 1969. Rome will knock your socks off. I never saw so many blushing nuns. They are in their holy city and there are statues of naked athletes in public squares. Some of the cherub statues are even peeing into basins. Not to mention the naked pagan goddesses and nymphs and dryads.

© 9 November 2016

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.

Posted on

Capricorn to Sagittarius, by Pat Gourley

My birthday is January 12th and I was born in 1949 in LaPorte Indiana. So for my first 67.5 years of life on earth I was per popular astrology a Capricorn. I did have my astronomical chart drawn and calculated for me once many years ago. I always responded when asked my sign that I was a Capricorn. Then those with whom I had just shared this vital information would respond with a nod and often saying with authority ‘of course you are’. Strange how very rarely these days I am ever asked my sign when it was often the next thing out your mouth after stating one’s name in the 1970’s, at least in the circles I traveled in.

Needless to say I was surprised, though not particularly dismayed, to learn that I was no longer a Capricorn but thanks to the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) I was now a Sagittarius. NASA went an added a 13th zodiac sign to possibly be born under: Ophiuchus (I think phonetically pronounced: ‘oh,fuck-us’)! I have linked below to a couple articles that I used in researching this new and to many a very disturbing development. That would be the crowd that has for years planned their day at least in part after reading their horoscope in the daily paper or blaming all sorts of bad stuff on Mercury in retrograde.

Maybe that’s why you hear less about people’s zodiac signs since who reads the print media anymore. I am sure though that an app must exist for those not willing to venture outside without first checking what’s up for them that day per 3000 year old Babylonian mythology.

So what’s up with this additional zodiac sign? Well in a rather snarky quote from Laurie Cantillo of the Planetary Exploration, Heliophysics Department she explained why they added a 13th zodiac sign called Ophiuchus: “We didn’t change any zodiac signs, we did the math. NASA reported that because the Earth’s axis has changed, the constellations are no longer in the same place they were thousands of years ago”. This shift in axis is due its theorized to lost ice related to global warming causing the Earth to sort of tip to one side. Oops! Try telling folks born under the new sign of Ophiuchus that man-made climate change is a hoax.

Apparently this update in the zodiac signs by NASA, perhaps the first such adjustment since the Babylonians first go at it 3000 years ago, has resulted in 86% of us now having a different sign. This of course radically alters the daily advice we need to be following if we still use these bromides to plan our life. Actually, if you are still relying on this advice I find that more disturbing than whether or not you are consulting the correct sign.

I am reminded of the apparently true stories of Nancy Reagan frequently consulting her personal astrologer, the late Joan Quigley, for advice during their years in the White House on how or when she and Ronnie should proceed in conducting personal, national and world affairs. That explains a few things doesn’t it! Reagan was born on February 6th, which made him a Sagittarius in the old 12-sign model, but now we know he should have been a Capricorn. We are left to ponder how different the world might be today if Nancy’s astrologer had been feeding them the correct celestial information!

One small caveat on how this change has been for me personally sheds a bit of light on my sexual escapades of the past 50 years. You can find all sorts of attributes attributable to your sign on-line though many have not caught up with the addition of Ophiuchus. There is even sexual stimulation advice available. For Capricorns you can supposedly drive them to a frenzy of sexual madness by tickling them behind the kneecaps. Since I am no longer a Capricorn but was really a Sagittarius oh these many years that explains why nobody ever got me off tickling me behind my knees! As a Sagittarius I can apparently be brought to the brink of orgasm by stroking my inner thighs. Though I think this is getting closer to pay dirt, a stimulating move farther north involving a sustained reach-around will still be required for a happy ending.

Capricorn: Jan 20-Feb 16

Aquarius: Feb 16-March 11

Pisces: March 11-April 18

Aries: April 18-May 13

Taurus: May 13-June 21

Gemini: June 21-July 20

Cancer: July 20-Aug 10

Leo: Aug 10-Sept 16

Virgo: Sept 16-Oct 30

Libra: Oct 30-Nov 23

Scorpio: Nov 23-Nov 29

Ophiuchus: Nov 29-Dec 17

Sagittarius: Dec 17-Jan 20

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2016/09/26/chaos-in-the-zodiac-some-virgos-are-leos-now-but-nasa-couldnt-care-less/ http://www.cosmopolitan.co.uk/entertainment/news/a45943/star-sign-horoscope-change-2016/

November 2016

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.

Posted on

Birthdays, by Phillip Hoyle

My
fifteenth birthday was a day of celebration but not so much over me as it was
over our family’s move from Junction City to Clay Center. Don’t mistake this by
thinking we were excited to be leaving an army town to go to some idyllic place
in the countryside. Actually we kids were horrified to think we were moving to
a town with only one four-way stop light. We were going out to the sticks in
our minds. Still, the move was a celebration.
Probably
this birthday was the first one I had that didn’t feature a cake with candles,
wishes, and the suspense of wondering if I would get all of the candles blown
out in one breath. The night before we family members went to several
neighboring houses to sleep since all our goods had been packed the day before
into a moving van. Tippy, my beagle, stayed in our garage, the cats on the back
porch of the house. We came back for them in the morning. When we were ready to
leave, we kids went to get the three of them for the trip. I put Tippy on the
leash, Lynn got a good hold on Kissy—her Persian ’fraidy cat—and Holly picked
up Mascot—a reprobate tomcat that one rainy afternoon had come home with our
youngest sister. I said I’d get the car door. Tippy insisted on sniffing
something and then we took off in a run around the west side of the house. The
girls and their cats came around the east side of the house just as Tippy and I
burst by. Kissy clawed Lynn in a desperate and successful attempt to escape. We
got Mascot and Tippy into the car and went searching for Kissy who was nowhere
to be found and, if she heard us calling “Kitty, Kitty, Kitty,” didn’t care. We
had to leave her and go meet the truck some forty miles away.
During the
drive to Clay Center, Tippy hung her head out the open window, Mascot got sick
in his litter, and Lynn cried over the loss of her pet. Finally we got to the
new town and opened the house to receive our furniture, appliances, and
personal effects. I don’t recall a cake or any such celebration, but I do know
I began to move into my room, one with a large closet, plenty of wall space for
my artwork, and a carpeted floor. The junior decorator in me was a bit
over-excited for already Mom had ordered drapes and such, and we were setting
out to re-do the whole house.
Later that
day, after the van had pulled away and things were settling down, I went
outdoors to set up Tippy’s new home in the garage and eventually to assess the
lawn. The new power mower was due to arrive the next day; I wanted to be ready.
Since the big old house sat on three corner lots, I was trying to figure out
how to organize my attack on grass and weeds. I heard a ruckus in the north
yard and went to investigate. There I found Mascot stealthily marking his new
territory and blue jays in great screaming protest attacking him like protective
dive bombers. Such drama!
We were all
moving in and making our best ways into the future. I would have new
responsibilities, a new school, new teachers, new church, and new friends. I
hoped nothing would dive bomb my attempts to make my way. And fortunately I
found a strong music program, many activities with kids at church, and a new
job. Actually it was the same job—carrying out groceries—but in a new store,
this one managed by my uncle who paid me twice as much as my dad had in our
other store. I felt like I was growing out of boyhood in a rapid approach to
adult life, and I felt ready for it all. While the day’s activities were
exhausting and probably there was not a birthday cake, the whole package was a
celebration of life and of a new future for me as I began the sixteenth year of
my life.
© 14 Nov 2016  
About the Author 
  

Phillip Hoyle
lives in Denver and spends his time writing, painting, and socializing. In
general he keeps busy with groups of writers and artists. Following thirty-two
years in church work and fifteen in a therapeutic massage practice, he now
focuses on creating beauty. He volunteers at The Center leading the SAGE
program “Telling Your Story.”
He also blogs at artandmorebyphilhoyle.blogspot.com