Tag: Culture and Current Events

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Revelation–The Key to Our Revolution by Pat Gourley

Yes, Dorothy, there is a homosexual agenda. It is not, however, fueled by the paranoid fantasies of the homophobic that we are in the business of recruitment. No it is something much more powerful than that. Our true agenda is one of personal revelation and the ripples of awesome change that naturally occurs as a result.

If you pull the religious mysticism crap out of the definition of “revelation” what you are left with at the root is “the revealing or disclosing of some form of truth or knowledge.” It does seem to me that the coming-out process is one of the purest and certainly most powerful forms of revelation.

Another “R” word that I think is closely tied in here with our true agenda is revolution. A lesser definition of this word but one quite applicable to my beliefs here states that revolution is “a dramatic and wide-ranging change in the way something works or is organized or in people’s ideas about it.”

Homosexuality it seems is certainly undergoing such a major paradigm shift in how it is perceived by the larger society. Oh sure Neanderthal pockets of reluctance to accept the inevitable still exist as very dramatically demonstrated by certain members of the state legislature’s of Kansas and Arizona and a couple of African nations to say nothing of the Russian State. The crazies in our neighboring state to the east are certainly being motivated by a sense of desperation. They have to invoke a convoluted sense of victimhood; we queers are impinging on their religious freedoms by asking them to bake us a cake. How ridiculous is that? They can play with poisonous snakes all they want just keep them away from the kids and I’ll bake my own damn cake, thank you.

The desperation of these folks is indicative that they now realize they have really lost the battle. The reason the scales have tipped so much in our favor is very clearly due to “revelation” on our part. I am firm believer that is has been the individual coming out process repeated and repeated millions of times over the past nearly fifty years that has created this tipping point. The repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” the acceptance of gay professional athletes, queers on TV and all the favorable marriage equality rulings are the result not the cause of this dramatic national “sea change”. And let me add I am not speaking about the coming out of the famous sports person, politician, TV or movie personality as the fuel that has sustained this change, but the coming out of the very average queer in every corner of the world. Revealing often with gut wrenching courage their true selves to friends, co-workers and family.

I wrote a piece in August of 1983 titled “Come Out, Come Out Wherever You Are”. It can be found in its original form on my web site www.pjgourley.com, in the Radical Gay Politics section. In a moment of laziness this weekend I thought I might just bring that piece to read but I have rested on my laurels perhaps a few too many times in this group by reading old shit and besides I kind of felt the need to rant a bit.

This article from 1983 was a feeble attempt on my part to try and rally the troops if you will and goose along the need for continuing our waves of revelation that had marked the 1970’s in particular. This was the early days of the AIDS epidemic with fear starting to really creep into the core of the gay male psyche; doubts in the minds of some that maybe the homophobes were right all along and nature was finally going to take care of this “homosexual problem.”

My exhortation was not to retreat into our closets but to start coming out in even greater force. I open the article quoting a Gallop Poll cited in Newsweek magazine from August of 1983 back in a time when Newsweek was actually read by large numbers of people. One question asked in the poll was “Do you have any friends or acquaintances who are homosexual?” 26% answered “Yes” while 74% answered “No.” There was clearly still lots of revealing to do on our part. With AIDS just beginning to creep into the national consciousness and no causative agent yet identified, Jerry Falwell was calling for the quarantining of gay men and I quote “like cattle with brucellosis.”

As it turned out though the community didn’t need my feeble cheerleading with the LGBTQ response to the epidemic being in the long run phenomenally community building and empowering, tragic and horrific as it was.

Harvey Milk
Photo taken in SF Public Library in2010

My personal efforts at “revelation” in this area of my own queerness started in 1967 and after several fitful starts and stops really took off in 1976 with my involvement with an organization called the Gay Community Center of Colorado located on Lafayette street just a block and a half from our current location. So here I am 38 years later still hanging out in this local community center. I ask myself what at this stage of the game I could possibly still have to reveal? Well you see my own personal growth and the ongoing ripening of my own queerness continues to be enhanced by listening to all the revelations here each week and sharing a few of my own. Love and hugs to you all!

© February
2014
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.

Read more of Patrick’s blogs at www.pjgourley.com

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It’s A Drag by Phillip Hoyle

I go to see Jeff at the bar that has drag shows and meet Twyla Westheimer. Across the room she sits dressed in midi skirt and patterned blouse, with large breasts, big hair, thick makeup, and looking slightly nervous. She’s primly perched on a bar stool sipping a drink through a straw. Although she looks familiar, I don’t know who she is. She stands and approaches me. Jeff, a new massage client of mine, laughs, tickled that I don’t recognize him in drag.

But Jeff isn’t the only reason I’m here. I like drag shows. I see the Denver drag queen who cracks me up the most, Brandi Roberts, a long-time friend of Jeff’s. Taking the stage, Brandi warms up the crowd, makes announcements, and provides one of the most bizarre performances I’ve seen from her or anyone else. If her opening minutes are any indication, tonight’s show will be a winner.

I find myself intrigued by drag queens. This interest began years ago when I first saw a drag show and increased when, in a seminary course about contemporary contexts of ministry, I started asking questions about them. I’m entertained by a good performance, but mostly I’m intrigued by the men who do the impersonations—their psychology, personalities, motivations, and lives.

Brandi always gives a good drag performance, but off stage she lives an even more complicated full-time gender-bending life complete with female hormones and the $5000 breast job she’s telling us about on stage. I feel so rich since I get to be around Brandi on a regular basis. She now styles hair in the same shop where I give massages. In fact, she arranged Jeff’s first massage with me. She appreciates my interest in her life and my attendance at her shows. I welcome her openness and great humor. Brandi may be as complicated a personality as I have ever known; certainly she is exotic in some sense of the word, plus candid, creative, and casual. With her it seems that anything can be said, anything can be done, and anything can be accepted.

Of course, I remind myself that my observations are very limited. I wonder if I find her so intriguing because in her I see none of the defenses that define my personality. I have run into very few of the challenges she experiences and endures daily. But around her I feel like I’m with a combination of several friends from my past: Susie, a very free and funny professional horn player; Dianne, a massage therapist who introduced me to wild life in Denver; Andy, a young artist of great wit and humor; Ronnie, who years ago entertained me with his sexual openness; and Ted, who told me that in San Francisco he was exploring his feminine side. With Brandi I encounter talent, individualism, comedy, good humor, and a passionate engagement with life. I like Brandi. Her life seems the banquet that Auntie Mame was sure most people were missing. The show proceeds.

Crystal Tower, a six-foot-six-inch tall African-American drag queen, enters down the hallway since with her big hair she is too tall for the small stage. I chuckle when her hair piece of huge curls is jarred loose by the door lintel. She keeps her poise and strikes a pose as the musical introduction continues. I’m wowed by her presence: tall, imposing, and important as she stands there in a long-sleeve, ankle length gold lamé dress. Crystal Tower has the stage presence of Nina Simone and delivers a soul piece I’ve heard that segues into a driving R&B piece I’ve not heard. She’s convincing whomever she may be impersonating; I’m impressed. She takes the dollar I wave to get her attention. At the end of her act, she acknowledges the applause with a gracious curtsy.

Scotty Carlisle now enters on stage in a short dress covered with red sequins. Her earrings and large necklace of rhinestones reflect the lights wildly. At age seventy-two, this drag queen shows the legs of a twenty-year-old beauty queen. Scotty looks great and wins the crowd with two torch song impersonations. Red is her color; no doubt about it. My partner Jim and I both approach the stage to give her our dollars. Jim has known her for years. Her saucy, sexy, and scintillating performance pushes along the show.

I sit in a terribly worn-out chair drinking too much beer, and as a result get up to go to the restroom. I’ve already done it too many times and self-consciously wonder what others may think of my many trips down the short hall. But I have to do it anyway. My bladder doesn’t hold all that much. I surely will pay for it tomorrow morning. Oh well, at least I haven’t run out of dollar bills to give the performers.

Finally Twyla comes onstage. I’m pretty sure now I recall her character from some eleven years ago when I met her at a party, a Sunday afternoon ‘I’m-running-for-royalty’ announcement affair. At the gathering Jazz Ann was announcing her candidacy, but Twila, her competition, was there. Jeff asked me if I had voted for Twila. I admitted I did not that year but assured him the following year when he became the great empress of something cosmic I did vote for him. Drag queens have long memories; at least this one does. Whether I actually voted that next year I don’t really remember; my little white lie was probably worthwhile. On stage now Twila wears a different tight-fitting stretchy blouse, extreme miniskirt, blue stockings, high platform heels, and a blue wig (I thought it was going to be chartreuse). Sexy, pouty, and sometimes coy, she’s quite a presence and a great contrast to the man I see in Jeff. Still, he seems sure of himself, and he must be a great planner given his successful career and entertainment hobby. I applaud and whoop and holler enthusiastically as he lip synchs one of his favorite songs that I don’t really know. I am happy to be here; and Jeff is wearing one of Brandi’s blue wigs he tells me as I hand him the rest of my dollars. Jim and I are on our way out to return home. On the short walk, I think of the drag queens and realize that their world despite its name is never a drag.


© 23 November 2012

 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

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Male Dancing — Same Sex Dancing by Louis

CNN International presented a news report on developing new trends in ballet.

They asserted that there is a “masculine ballet.” The viewer gets a sample.

Another new genre is androgynous ballet. Viewer gets a sample. The sample ballet skits are performed by members of the Royal Ballet in Covent Gardens in London.

I agree with the wholesome experimental side of the Royal Ballet, but, in my opinion, ballet itself is basically feminine. The beloved spot-lighted ballerina is surrounded by masculine subordinate helpers. Ballet is fine for what it is.

However, I have seen other genres of artistic dancing in which the male anatomy, especially the muscular system, are sort of “analyzed” by a vigorous athletic dance routine accompanied by an intense loud rhythmic music. One of the few examples of “masculine dancing” I have seen in the past is the Russian sabre dance.

Many years ago I saw a dance presentation on a VHS tape put out by a gay male porn film company. The dance routines themselves were not porno-graphic although they were certainly erotic. There were two dance routines, both performed by a solo male dancer. One wore a G-string. He strutted and stretched and stomped and showed off his muscles. For me it suggested a completely new genre of artistic dancing. The accompanying music was pounding and pulsating.

The other dancer wore nothing but cowboy chaps and a Stetson hat. Both dancers were quite erotic but tasteful enough that they could have been presented to the general adult public as artistic dancing.

The CNN report on expanding the boundaries of the ballet also reminded me that until recently almost all kinds of art presented to the public are based on an exclusively heterosexual model. Boy falls in love with girl, girl plays hard to get, boy proves himself worthy perhaps by becoming a military hero. Boy wins girl. There is perhaps an epilogue, boy becomes a man, marries woman, they have children (make babies) and live happily ever after. This is how it is in literature (novels, poetry, short stories), in painting, sculpture, decorative arts, music, cinema. There is nothing else.

Of course, we know this leaves out tens of millions of people. This general presentation of art to the public from the powers that be was a dishonest, skewed presentation of what it means to be human. Fake-art.

The androgynous ballet routine as presented by the CNN report is a giant step forward. It acknowledges there are millions of androgynous people in the world, the intersexes. Effeminate men (and yet to be considered masculine women).

The scenario that would appeal to me is a hairy macho man, falls in love with another hairy macho man, and, after a proper courting ritual, they become a couple and live happily ever after. They are successful personally. If somehow they wind up taking care of a bunch of kids, that would be another big plus. Up to now we have been virtually invisible, non-existent.

There should be an honest artistic expression acknowledging us, who we are, what we are and what we really feel.

© 8 March 2014

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 (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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Revelation by Gillian

I do believe that our socially conservative friends, well actually I don’t have any but you get the drift, must be having a bad time lately. There have been a couple of revelations which doubtless crowded right into their worst nightmares.

Jonny Weir

First, we have the Winter Olympics. Much of what was shown on TV was ice skating. Fine and dandy, but,

“Why oh why,” moans my imaginary friend, and I’m sorry, but, yes, he does have a Southern accent, “Did they have to ruin every moment of it by having that dreadful Jonny Weird as a commentator?” 

Yes, I have returned to my childhood ways, or perhaps gone into my second-childhood ways, and created for myself an imaginary friend with whom I can discuss these things, as I lack a real-life socially conservative buddy.

“His name is Weir,” I correct.

Jonny Weir and Friend

“Whatever, he sure as Hell is weird. Dresses like a goddam woman, for Christ’s sake. Lace blouses and all covered in jewels. Jesus! If they must have him do that job they don’t have to show him do they? His hair all primped and curled and piled on top of his head. Shit! It’s indecent. I sure as Hell hope his broadcasts don’t go outside of this country. He’s an embarrassment to this once proud nation of ours. What in Hell would the rest of the world make of us? Is this what we fought for?”

Oh, that’s using we a little loosely, I think. He’s too young to have been in ‘Nam; I know because I created him. By the same token, I know he has never defended his country in any war, much as he encourages everyone else to do so. Were he a Vietnam vet., I would have too much sympathy for him, so I took that crutch away.

“Perhaps not a great shocker to much of the world,” I shrug. “Most of Europe for a start would probably not think a whole lot about it.”

“Yurp. Who cares about Yurp? Bunch of socialist lay-about faggots themselves. This was once a God-fearin’ respectable country. I just don’t get why that goddam NBC allows that guy to dress like that, makin’ a laughing stock of hi’self, preening in front of millions of people. Why ain’t he made to dress right like everybody else? All th’other commentators wear suits and ties and look like men. I mean, for the love of God, if NBC won’t do it then they should be be made to. I never did believe that I would live to see days like this. This was once a law-abiding country. Now anybody can do any goddam thing. We need laws and we gotta to enforce them.”

This, I think, but don’t say, from a guy with a bedroom full of repeating rifles and sub-machine guns or whatever the mass destruction weapons of choice are these days. A guy who thinks the ‘gubmit’ should stay out of his life.

“And then,” he’s on a roll now, and yes, sorry again, but my conservative buddy is definitely a man, “they got all that women’s hockey hoopla. Ice hockey yusta be a man’s game for God’s sake. Now they got women. And we’re supposed to be proud of ‘em with their medals. Be the day when I let my daughter do somethin’ like that.” As I have provided for my imaginary friend with a relatively independent, politically middle-of-the-road, daughter, I smile to myself at his illusion of a power over her which he has long ago lost, if indeed he ever had it. Which, of course, is fuel to his general anger and resentment.

“Shit, they all covered up so you can’t even tell what they are. They ain’t women and that Weird guy ain’t a man. Jeeeesus!”

“Soccer,” I offer, unable to resist the temptation, “Used to be just for men. Now women and girls everywhere play it.”

He snorts in disgust. “Another bunch of lesbians! Don’t fool me if they talk about husbands and babies. They nothin’ but lesbians!”

“Some of them,” I shrug again, “but all those husbands and boyfriends supporting many of these women are, what? Hired actors?”

“Maybe they jus’ fools who think they married real women who fake it for them. Thinka that?”

What I think is we’ve exhausted this topic. Usually I listen rather than talk with my imaginary bud, after all his very purpose is to help me get inside the heads of people who think like him, as best I can; to try to comprehend their thought processes, what drives them.

So sometimes I just cannot resist egging him on, for that very purpose. “There was that college football player last week too ….. Michael Sam …” 

He spits.

“What in all Hell’s wrong with that guy? Apart from being a queer, I mean. Football’s one place left where no sissy-boys allowed. What on God’s green earth he trying to prove? He coulda been drafted pretty high and had a good career ahead and he just shoots hisself in the foot. No NFL team going after him now. Wouldn’t you think being a ni…. bein’ black makes him different enough without he gotta be more different. Not that being black is any problem in the football world. But being gay sure as Hell is. Why didn’ he just keep his mouth shut? Why do they always have to be in my face with that crap? I don’t wanna know. Being gay is nothin’ to do with how he plays football!”

And that, I think to myself, is indeed a revelation. But did he get the irony of what he just said? Sadly, I doubt it.

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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Mirror Image by Betsy

My partner Gill and I often inadvertently have interesting discussions at tea time. Someone makes a statement and before we know it we find ourselves delving deeply into one subject or another.

Just a couple of days ago we got into a discussion about growing up female in the United States in the 1940‘s-50’s vs. growing up female in the U. K. in the 1940’s-50’s.

The thought that triggered this conversation had to do with confidence, rather the lack of it, in women of our generation. I am suggesting that certainly not all women but many American women raised in the 30‘s and 40‘s are more likely to lack confidence whereas British women do not. How and why did this come to pass?

I speculate that as I was growing up in middle class America I was expected to become some man’s wife and my role would be to facilitate his career, be his support staff, and to raise a family. This may not be the same for all women, but this is the message I received in some form every day of my life as a youngster. Certainly my development was not focused on learning a particular skill, pursuing a talent, or being exposed to a profession, or even learning professional behavior, or how to be assertive. Nor did I have the role models for such behavior or for such an attitude. The ultimate outcome for me was to be a wife and a mother. Mind you, there is nothing wrong or demeaning about this particular outcome, if a woman is given the choice and chooses it.

The college I attended for four years, Wells College, was founded by a man in 1868 for the purpose of providing suitable wives for the men of Cornell. This is the stated purpose of the institution, the assumption being at the time that men wanted educated wives–not so their wives could develop their own careers, of course, but so they could have intelligent conversation and have their children cared for by an educated mother.

That was the 19th century. After World War II women realized that there might be more for them than kitchens and nurseries. After all, they had had to go to work during the war to produce guns and tanks while the men were off fighting. Many women realized life might offer some choices for them. Maybe there was a life outside of the home–an interesting life. After all, raising children does not last forever–actually only a few years when taking an entire lifetime into account.

By the time I attended Wells College attitudes had become much more progressive and women were encouraged to develop a profession or a career if they so chose. So I was exposed to this attitude as a young adult in the college I attended and sometimes from other sources. I remember clearly my grandmother, whom I called “Abita,” encouraging me to think about a career in math or science. She had clipped from the paper an article pointing out the surge of interest among women in careers in science and the opportunities that were coming available, suggesting that I might be encouraged to fly in that direction. This was a brand new idea to me–something I had never considered.

By the time I graduated from college, I no longer saw myself as a wife alone, but perhaps as a wife and a member of one of three professions which by that time had been assigned to women: nursing, teaching, and social work. In 1957 it was quite acceptable, even promoted, that a woman could have a career and a husband. However, despite the changes in the attitudes and the social norms of the time, the message I received from the adults in the early years of my life were a part of my psyche.

Listening to partner Gill’s description of growing up female in Britain, I realize there is a contrast, but at the same time, the image is the same–much like a mirror image.

In Britain, at least in Gill’s experience and the experience of most of the females she knew, girls grew up with the expectation that they would be independent, able to take care of themselves, if needed, and it turns out that it was needed thanks to two world wars. Girls would marry and raise families, and they would be making choices for themselves all along. British women, according to her story, were raised to be strong and independent–in contrast to American women who were supposed to be happily dependent and at least appear to be the demure little wife sitting at home taking care of the house.

Interesting mirror image! The same, but turned around. But why not, I say. Look at the role models the British women have: Elizabeth, Victoria, the current Elizabeth. The kings, with a few exceptions, messed up. But the queens–just look at them. And what did our ancestors who were British do with that heritage? They chose to leave the country and sail across the ocean and start a new country where there would be no monarchy–no role models.

Besides that, two world wars in Europe had taken out a huge chunk of the British male population. World War I in particular. It was not a given for a woman in 1930’s Britain that she would become someone’s wife, she knew that she would very likely soon become someone’s widow. Men were in short supply during both wars. The women had been left at home to run the household and to continue doing so when their men did not return from war. It was the women who raised the next generation of adults in post war Britain. These adults certainly did not grow up with a vision of females as being anything but strong and self sufficient.

This topic can certainly stand on its own as an opportunity for further consideration, writing, and listening, or another discussion at tea time. But in this case I will leave it here with the two similar and opposing images to contemplate.

©18 March 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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Point of View by Betsy

There are those who work in Washington, D.C. who call themselves patriots simply because they religiously wear an American Flag lapel pin. They claim to be working toward a better U.S.A. I honestly believe there are many politicians, leaders of our nation, who do not comprehend the difference between what is good for the nation as a whole and what is good for their funders, their interests, and their own self aggrandizement.

For example I have to challenge those who believe that it is better for our society as a whole to build an empire and to increase our influence in the world. To cite a current issue I have to challenge those who believe that we should be a continuing presence in Afghanistan for an indefinite period of time. President Obama would like to end the longest war in our history and bring the troops home. In a rare public appearance recently, George W. Bush was asked the question “Why should we keep troops in Afghanistan indefinitely?” His answer was “So that we can ensure that young Afghan girls receive an education.” I do believe that young Afghan girls should have the opportunity for an education; but not at the expense of educating our own young girls and boys.

While we debate whether or not we should be a presence in Afghanistan, the United States continues to fall behind in quality of education. Especially in math and science we are constantly reminded of how far down the list of countries ours is in performance in these subjects in our schools.

Case in point: I just heard this on the radio, Exxon Mobile is always searching for young engineers. Presently they are not hiring American graduates. They are looking in other countries particularly Russia. Hiring Russians? No wonder we have high unemployment. Our graduates apparently are not qualified for many jobs because of our failing educational system. Falling behind in education of our youngsters is a huge threat to the future of the U.S. in my opinion.

And catching up takes decades if not generations.

While we’re on the subject of falling behind consider the status of women in our country today. According to a recent study the United States ranks 23rd in the number of women in positions of leadership and authority in politics and business. Twenty third behind the Phillipines and Nicaragua. Much work needs to be done here at home before we address the ills of other countries. It is my point of view that leaders who are patriots recognize this and work to develop and implement policies to address the issues that directly relate to the well being of the whole nation.

This past Friday being the fiftieth anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, we have been reminded of his legacy and who he was as a man. My point of view is that John Kennedy was a true patriot. I believe that he tried to do what was best for the country, not what was best only for himself, his party, or his friends and associates. It happens that he lost his life because of what he believed was best for the country and because he was effective in implementing policies which were beneficial to all the people. He was the People’s President. He exemplified the all so familiar words “ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.”

In spite of the momentum of the civil rights movement at the time of his presidency, Kennedy took a heroic risk of his political career when he fought for equal rights. He fought the corporate culture and the military establishment. He was considered a socialist by some, certainly an over-regulator at best.

Kennedy was dedicated to bringing lasting peace to his country in spite of the pressure from the military industrial complex and the horrible war in Viet Nam. He was terrified of the threat of nuclear war and was known as the peace president. This in itself takes great courage. The political establishment usually does not embrace the idea of lasting peace. Peace is not profitable.

Had Kennedy survived and had a longer tenure as the leader of the free world, our country, perhaps the whole world, might look a lot different today. Now fifty years after he was shot there is doubt around his assassination and who did it. There is speculation that the murder was a conspiracy of the CIA or the FBI or, certain people in the pentagon, and certain business interests. I do not have a point of view about that. I suppose we, the public, may never know the truth. Perhaps the truth is as it stands as the accepted truth.

So what makes a patriot, anyway? I do not wish to imply that a public servant or any citizen must give his or her life to be considered a patriot. Certainly those who go off to war and pay the ultimate price, or simply risk life and limb–they have to be considered patriots. Maybe they go off to war because they have no choice; it is required of them. Does that mean that they or those who elect not to go to war because they choose not to kill–does that mean they are not patriots? No.

Had John Kennedy not been assassinated would he still be considered a great patriot? Certainly not by those who did and do not share his point of view about what is best for the country. But the reality is that he gave his life while serving his country and in the line of duty. This alone does not make him a patriot. His policies that were implemented were designed to benefit the entire country not just one faction or another.

He WAS a patriot insofar as he sacrificed personal benefit and personal gain for the sake of the entire nation.

That’s my point of view.

11/25/13

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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No Good Will Come of It by Nicholas

‘No good will come of it’—now that’s a really sweeping statement. Even bad things can have good consequences or side effects. But this is definite and universal. There is no hope, no chance of redeeming value. It’s a lost cause. Give up, get out, I’d turn back if I were you. Absolutely no good will come of it.

It’s hard to think of where this sweeping judgment could apply. Since the only absolute I really accept is to never say never, I am pressed to think of situations of no good whatsoever. Only a few situations come to mind and that surprises me because, as a pessimist, I am sure there must be plenty more.

One such situation is the closing of bookstores. There is no substitute to browsing bookshelves in stores and in libraries. You get to touch, handle and sample any part of the book you’re contemplating. You find other books that you never knew existed. Internet shopping can give thousands of titles in a flash but they’re just titles, most of which are irrelevant and planted by search engines paid to flaunt them. Looking for something on the Internet is like trying to find that postage stamp you mistakenly threw away in a garbage can. You have to plow through a ton of rubbish to find that little thing you need. This advance is not an improvement.

If that example is small, here’s a bigger one. Very clearly no good will, or has ever, come of the combination of politics and religion. Religion can sometimes produce good and even politics can sometimes produce good. But put the two together and, you can be sure no good will come of it. Uniting religious fervor and self-righteousness with political power is a recipe for disaster. Islam is showing us that now; Christianity had its romp with power and violence centuries ago. Christianity now is kind of a toothless tiger but countless millions had to suffer and die to take the teeth out of that tiger. Islam once saved Western Civilization from itself (see Christian violence above) but as it comes more to be identified with politics seems to have degenerated into being hardly civilized at all. Religion with power makes for no good.

Another situation from which no good will come is the arbitrary, unilateral use of military or covert violence by one nation against another or against individuals one government deems dispensable. I am a member of the nation currently most guilty of this offense. From toppling democratically-elected governments in the 1950s to suit US interests (i.e., oil and money) to trying to squelch popular revolutions for independence (e.g., Vietnam) to sending drones to pick off individuals designated as enemies, military power almost always creates situations worse than the ones it supposedly fixes. All those actions have generated more threats to American interests and security than did they stop. National self-interest can be its own worst enemy.

Jumping from commerce, theology and international relations to the personal level, repressing one’s sexual or gender identity guarantees that no good will come of it. One pays a steep price for tampering with something so basic and innate as trying to smother a natural and irrepressible side of personality. By tampering I mean refusing to be gay or lesbian or your true gender. Your own life can be reduced to emotional squalor and others’ lives around you will get caught in the back splash. It is simply dangerous not to be who you are.

This has really been more of a hodgepodge sermon than a story but I hope some good can come of it.

© May 2013

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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Sandy Hook Elementary Victims (14 December 2012). Gone but Not Forgotten — by Ricky

          I hope the following photographs forever haunt the dreams of our Congress’s heartless, soulless, and cowardly elected members who voted down (or blocked) the firearms background checks bill. May they never have another peaceful night of sleep! 

In Memoriam of Sandy Hook Elementary Victims
(14 December 2012)
The Adults
Rachel D’Avino (Teacher’s Aid with her dog)
Dawn Hochsprung (Principal)

Nancy Lanza (Mother of the murderer)

Anne Marie Murphy (Teacher)

Lauren Rousseau (Teacher)

Mary Sherlach (School Psychologist)

Victoria “Vicki” Soto (Teacher)

The Children
Charlotte Bacon 6

Daniel Barden 7

Olivia Engel 6

Josephine Gay 7

Dylan Hockley 6

Madeleine F. Hsu 6

Catherine V. Hubbard 6

Chase Kowalski 6

Jesse Lewis 6

Grace McDonnell 7

Ana Marques-Greene 6

James Mattioli 6

Emillie Parker 6

Jack Pinto 6

Noah Pozner 6

Caroline Previdi 6

Jessica Rekos 6

Avielle Richman 6

Benjamin Wheeler 6

For a list of school shootings in the U.S. from 26 July 1764 through 13 December 2013 visit:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_school_shootings_in_the_United_States

© 29 January 2013, revised 18 March 2013, 27 April 2013, 5 May 2013, 9 November 2013, and 14 December 2013. 



About the Author

Emerald Bay, Lake Tahoe, CA

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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Signs of the Times by Betsy

When we are young we don’t recognize signs of the times because we have experienced everything for only a short time. Everything has always been that way. So the way things are at the time we experience them we consider to be normal.

I have noticed all too often in my old age the changes that have taken place in the world and the changes that are taking place before my very eyes it seems. After all, we older folks have experienced or at least observed many changes in many areas of our lives and in the life of our society and our culture. I find myself complaining about something that has become different from the way it used to be and the way I wanted it to be. It was just fine so why does it have to change. I end up explaining it away by saying, “It’s a sign of the times.”

I started compiling a list of some of the modern phenomena of our culture that have changed for the worse (in my opinion).

People talk too fast. Especially young adults. Has anyone else noticed that? Or could it be related to my failing hearing? Maybe I just think they are talking too fast. I wouldn’t really be surprised if they actually are because it goes along with the fact that everything else is moving faster. Communication is faster than we ever dreamed it could be when I was a youngster. Everything that moves is faster. Walking, running, skiing, cycling, thinking is faster, problem solving, information gathering, etc. Sometimes it makes my whole nervous system want to run and hide or at least take a rest. Here’s an ugly thought that hit me just the other day: Maybe, just maybe everything just appears to be speeding up because my brain is slowing down! Oh no, it can’t be anything like that, can it??

These days I hear many people talking about our government in Washington–Congress in particular–and what a lousy job they are doing. In reading any history of our government, as far as I can tell, disapproval of congress has always been a sign of the times for somebody, anyway. But I’ve heard the current disapproval rating is at an all-time high–number one–having surpassed number two colonoscopies, and number three root canals.

Another sign of the times I’ve noticed lately is that every processed food of any kind contains high fructose corn syrup. It’s easy to see why while driving across the country in the summer or fall. So much corn!! But then, why not? After all, we’re paying the farmers–be they corporate farmers or family farmers–we’re paying them to grow it. Too much corn and too much government support to make a living growing it, so they have to make up ways to use the resulting over abundant supply to keep the price up. The other positive for the food producers and processors is that high fructose corn syrup is a form of sugar and is a very addictive substance. Consumers will always come back for more. Guaranteed!

What about that ever present, in your face, obvious global phenomenon that is profoundly affecting almost everyone: CLIMATE CHANGE. Now here’s a sign of the times that should have everyone’s attention. Yet there are deniers who say it is not happening in spite of the 98% of the scientific community who exhibit proof that it is a fact. Here in Colorado the warm, dry weather we so often enjoy day after day does not directly affect most of us in a negative way. But tell those 300,000 people without power on the east coast today as I am writing this–tell them that storms are not bigger, more prevalent, more violent, than even ten years ago. However if you are ten years old I suppose it seems normal.

Finally, I could swear that much more time is spent for commercial advertising on television and radio than in the old days. Sometimes I’m tempted to time it. It seems it’s about fifty-fifty to me. Half programming, half advertising. Thanks to modern technology and the digital age, however, there is a way around it–another sign of the times. Video recording and that most important button on the remote, the mute button.

What did we ever do without those remote control devises? Imagine getting out of the car and manually lifting the garage door. Unthinkable! It’s even harder to imagine getting up from the sofa to change the channel on the TV or to turn the thing off. Well, I guess all the signs of the times are not for the worse.

What is your sign? 

Lakewood, 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.