Tag: Death in Venice

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Movies, by Will Stanton

My taste in movies is somewhat eclectic, yet I do insist
upon good quality in order for me to thoroughly enjoy them, rather than merely
tolerate them. To me, good quality means intelligent thoughtfulness and
experienced creativity in all aspects of film-making.  Among other criteria, the movie should have a
theme that is worth watching and considering. 
That usually means adult topics. 
I will clarify what I mean with a few just a few movie examples.
Already, that leaves out so many Hollywood movies of today
that are based upon comic books and their almost endless sequels, impossible
action-adventures with superheroes and villains. Apparently, the scripts are written by
Southern-California twenty-year-olds with little formal education and virtually
no cultural upbringing.  They are not
interested in making good quality movies; they just want to make lots of money,
catering to easily satisfied audiences.
I also have developed over the years a concerned sense that
such “100% good guys versus 100% bad guys” themes indoctrinate Americans, e.g.,
adolescent boys with limited rational capabilities, into believing that all
challenges in life are threatening and physical, as opposed to cerebral and
spiritual, and that we must attack and kill the enemy to solve all of our
problems.  The degree of gratuitous
violence in so many movies worries me. 
It stands to reason that this general behavior now is reflected throughout
our society, ranging from pervasive lack of civility, pervasive crime, mass-shootings,
unwarranted wars, and bad votes.
I also find even the dialogue and acting often
distasteful.  So many young American
actors regularly are supplied lines that are supposed to sound clever and cool,
reflecting affected self-assuredness, hubris, and arrogance.  Also, their facial expressions and
body-language are so affected, portraying arrogance or even physical threat to
others.  I cringe each time I hear and
see such behavior.  I prefer natural,
unaffected portrayals.
In contrast to banal films,
there have been many movies and television series that I have admired and,
consequently, often have watched more than once.  Some are from independent film-makers.  A good number of these have been British or
other foreign film-companies, writers, directors, and actors, who demonstrate a
high degree of maturity and professionalism.
For example, the superlative
1979 BBC series “Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy” is one of the all-around
best-quality productions I ever have seen. 
To begin with, the superb writer of the book, David Cornwell (pen-name
“John le Carré”), has worked for both British MI5 and MI6, most likely has
continued his contacts, and obviously knows what he was talking about.  Secondly, this well-informed, highly
intelligent man writes honestly, reflecting the good, bad, and often mediocre
behavior and character of governments and human beings.  Then, the screenplay-writer also was
excellent, as well as the director and all of the crew.  For the leading role, they chose the
consummate actor Sir Alec Guinness as George Smiley.

Once word of that selection got about, the casting-director
had his choice of the very best actors in all of Britain.  In addition to their great experience and
professionalism, their appearances, voices, and mannerisms fit the roles like a
glove.  Unfortunately, a discerning
viewer must obtain the uncut, British Region-2 DVDs for the best experience and
clearest plot-development, for some crucial scenes were cut for U.S. audiences in
order to force the episodes into one-hour time-slots; and the idiots used those
shortened episodes for the American DVDs. 
Also, don’t bother to watch the more recent movie-version.  I gave it a C- rating in my review on Amazon.
For theater-movies, I admire
many aspects of New Zealand director Peter Jackson’s “Lord of the Rings.”  For the thousands of people involved over
several years in this major project, this effort was a labor of love.  So much care went into making these films that,
for example, the set for Hobbiton was constructed and planted way in advance of
filming so that the flora would have a chance to develop.  Professional sword-smiths were hired to
create masterpieces for the major characters. 
Fine-tuning the script continued to the very last minute, requiring the
London Symphony Orchestra to also 
fine-tune their  sound-track recordings.
 Even after Jackson won the Oscar with
the final episode, “Return of the King,” he had his crews continue filming to
make improvements for the DVD sets to come. 
I know of no other film-project that has done this.
American independent
film-makers and foreign film-makers have made many films over the years that
explore human nature and realistic situations, such as docudramas like the
acclaimed, German film “The Bridge.” 
Based upon a true, 1945 event in the last days of the war, schoolboys
were forced into uniforms and ordered to guard a small bridge in their own
village, the very route American tanks were approaching.  One boy was severely wounded.  All the others perished.  The western allies required Germans to view
the film to further emphasize the terrible consequences of their too easily
having let themselves be led in to a catastrophic war.  “The Bridge” is considered to be one of the
two best anti-war films made.
I also appreciate serious fiction, such as the British
“Remains of the Day” that explored the unnecessary self-denial and repressed
emotions of an all-too-traditional butler. 
I realize, as much as I appreciate these films, that many people who are
used to hyperkinetic, childish adventure-films, don’t care for mature, cerebral
films because these are regarded as “too slow, too boring.”  As a matter of fact, just such a person gave
me his copy of the “Remains” DVD because he was disappointed that it didn’t
have more action and wartime violence.
One of my all-time favorite
films is Italian director Luchino Visconti’s prize-winning “Death in Venice”
based upon, what many literary critics declare to be, “the best novella of the
twentieth century” and written by “the best novelist of the twentieth century”
Thomas Mann.  The Cannes Film Festival
awards once held a retrospective contest covering films from a quarter of a
century.  “Venice” won the grand prize
and was declared “a masterpiece.”  The
cinematography alone is a masterpiece with many scenes resembling tableau-artwork.   The lead actor Dirk Bogarde deserved  “best-actor” 
awards from all such contests. 
Most of the sublime accompanying music is by the great composer Gustav
Mahler.

Because of my interest in the remarkable voices and music
of the European Baroque era, I like the unique, Golden-Globe-winning film
“Farinelli,” loosely based upon the reputation of the acknowledged greatest
singer in history, Carlo Broschi, stage-name “Farinelli.”
As entertaining as the film
is, anyone who has bothered to learn history knows that the screenplay
accurately reflects only about 10% of the real person, 20% based upon the
reputation of other contemporary singers, 20% based upon the Baroque culture
and opera of the time, and 50% simply made up to entertain the audience.  Even so, I enjoy the film.  There is no other like it.  I recommend the music CD.
I do admit, however, that not all the films which I enjoy
are worthy of winning Cannes’ Palme d’Or, perhaps the most prestigious
film award.  Even my most sober friends
and I have enjoyed the “Harry Potter” movies. 
In addition to their being very imaginative, they seem to succeed as an
antidote to the banality of the real world, even despite the scripts’ frequent
egregious errors in diction, grammar, and style.  And, I have to admit also that I often have
watched some good quality films and DVDs simply because I am inclined to
identify with attractive characters whose attributes and lives appear more
interesting and satisfying than, too often, my own life.  I’m not sure that the practice of watching
such films is of any practical purpose, but they are a captivating distraction.  Still, some are included in my DVD
collection.
And, last of all, if I suddenly became a billionaire, I
would like to produce to perfection several films based upon topics dear to my
heart.  Of course, that is a real
fantasy.
© 31 May 2016 
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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My Earliest LGBT Memory, by Will Stanton

Five years old (or should I
say, “Five years young?) is very early for such a clear memory.  The experience must have had quite an impact
upon me to remember it so well.   The visual
aspect was powerful enough not to forget, but the excited feeling in my stomach
is what really affected me.
I was five, he was six.  He lived just two houses over from my
home.  To my regret, he and his family
did not stay there very long.  I have no
idea where he went after they moved.
I recall one spring evening
when I tagged along with my older brother to my neighbors’ home.  We didn’t actually play.  There were five of us there, and we simply
sat on the grass and chatted about whatever children of that age talk
about.  That I don’t remember, for it is
what I saw that captured and held my attention.
A traditional belief is that
children that age are not sexual, whatever is meant by that term “sexual.”  Sexual or not, I do know that, from a very
early age, I have had an unusually heightened sense of the aesthetic.  And, at the age of five, that came into play,
big-time.
The first thing that struck me
(and, the word “struck” certainly denotes the impact that I felt) was the
extraordinary beauty of his face.  The
aristocratic, finely sculpted features – – high cheek-bones, arched eyebrows,
narrow, straight nose, ideal line of the jaw and chin, and perfectly shaped
lips worthy of a Cupid.  I was
mesmerized.  As often appears to be the
case with the young, his warm-colored skin was flawless, and his richly colored
locks had avoided the shears and were allowed to flow downward toward his
eyes.  Those shining clear eyes had a
demure expression, not the more intense, self-confident look of the other boys
around him.  The others around him?  I barely remember them, almost as though they
already sat in the shadows of approaching dusk.
As the others talked among
themselves, he sat quietly, his long, lithe limbs side-saddle in the
grass.  I was not used to seeing boys sit
that way.  He seemed preoccupied with his
own thoughts.  Only occasionally did he
speak, and then in very soft tones. 
Those few moments of speech were music to my ears.
The full impact of this vision
raised strange and powerful emotions within me. 
I felt “butterflies” in my stomach, an adrenaline rush that was a whole
new experience for me.  It is that
shivering excitement that I felt which amazed me at the time and was so
indelibly imprinted upon my memory.
That remarkable moment
awakened in me a powerful passion for beauty in the human form that has stayed
with me my whole life.  It has inspired
in me the desire to express that passion through many forms of artistic
endeavor – – music, art, and writing, as I am doing now.  It often has dominated my feelings, perhaps
even plagued my thinking.  I often feel
like Gustav von Aschenbach in “Death in Venice,” overwhelmed by bitter-sweet
sensations each time I encounter beauty in human form.
Now that I am decades older
than that first experience at age five, even a generation older than von Aschenbach,
I sense no evidence that I shall change. 
Like Gustav, I shall be mesmerized by beauty to the very end of my days.
© 14 July 2015 
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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The Gayest Person I Have Ever Known by Will Stanton

I know the world is full of
gay people (using the currently popular definition of the term), and they dress
and behave in many different ways.  If,
however, the person who chose this topic was thinking of the stereotypical gay
guy with distinctive apparel or mannerisms who often draws attention to
himself, I really have not hung around very many gays like that.  If I use that frame of reference, however,
then I would have to think of young Peter whom I met in college.
Peter did, in fact, draw
attention to himself; but he seemed to be able to do it in a way that
fascinated people, never repelled them. 
I suppose that he had the advantage of being remarkably good looking, as
well as intelligent and charismatic. 
I  observed  people’s body-language that supported this
fact.  Sometimes, I’d see straight guys
encounter a gay guy and then immediately draw away in distaste; whereas, with
Peter, they involuntarily would lean forward, eyes wide-open, fascinated.  Other gays on campus did not fare so well as
he did.  I know of at least one gay who
was beaten up, but even the homophobes just stared at Peter, and that is no
exaggeration.  Straight guys seemed to be
far too taken with Peter to ever consider being unkind to him.
Peter’s heritage was an
unlikely pairing of Polish and Sicilian ancestry.  He had the fine, classic facial features of a
Polish aristocrat, and I could imagine that his mother resembled Tadzio’s
mother in the film “Death in Venice.”  
He also flaunted a mane of golden locks, much like Tadzio’s.  His skin was a smooth, honey-tan.  Apparently, the only obvious inheritance from
his Sicilian father was the ability to tan without burning.
Peter obviously was very
aware of his good looks and their effect upon people.  He enjoyed being noticed.  He did confide in me, however, one concern
about his physical self.  His body appeared
to be rather soft and smooth, even slightly androgynous; and he wondered if he
innately was less masculine than most college-age guys.
Peter chose clothes that
straight guys would be embarrassed to wear. 
Between Peter’s physical appearance, his cute clothes, and his confident
way of talking and walking, he never failed to draw attention.
Peter had a large group of
gay friends, plus an endless string of guys persistently trying to get Peter
into bed, and a series of trailing hangers-on that people unkindly referred to
as “fag-hags.”  It was nothing to see
Peter cheerfully making his way somewhere, trailed by several enamored
acquaintances, much like moths to a flame.
Peter was an unabashed
flirt. He knew when people were staring at him. 
If he was in a teasing mood, he could embarrass his admirers by
sensuously displaying himself. He might smile at them and not leave until the
observers turned red with embarrassment. 
 
From what Peter told me, I
think that he enjoyed flirting with straight guys.  He once answered an ad to share expenses with
two straight guys in a van going to Florida for spring break. When they drove
up to Peter’s house, he appeared wearing tiny, baby-blue shorts and a little
pink sweater.  And, when he came
flouncing down the front steps to the van, his gay house-mate called out, “Have
a good time, and don’t get any nice boys into trouble!”  The two guys’ jaws dropped.  Apparently, the straight guys overcame their
initial surprise, for by the time they pulled over into a rest stop for the
night, Peter ended up being, as he later described it, “the meat in the
sandwich.”  Once Peter arrived in Florida,
he donned a diaphanous caftan, strutted upon the beach, and immediately found
housing and entertainment during his stay because he was picked up by a member
of one of America’s most wealthy and prominent families.  I have chosen not to mention the name.  Then he had the ride home with the two
straight guys to enjoy.
No one could mistake Peter
as being anything other than gay, but he had no interest in drag.  Some of his friends; however, thought that he
was too pretty not to try it, at least on one occasion.  They decided to dress Peter up for a big
party that would have lots of straight guys there with their dates.  At first, he resisted, but eventually he
agreed to do it.  As it turned out, his
appearance was so stunning that a lot of the guys abandoned their dates, went
over to Peter, and were trying to chat him up. Their abandoned dates were
furious. Peter was so convincing that they never discovered that he was a guy
in drag.  He could be flamboyant, but he did
not care for drag. He never did that again.
On a few occasions, I paled
around with Peter, but we never did anything particularly gay or
titillating.  We took a hike around the
state park, went to see the film “Death in Venice” together, and sometimes just
hung out talking.  Even though I admired
his good looks, I never asked to go to bed with Peter.  I liked him just for who he was.  He wondered why I had not asked.  I replied that, apparently, everyone else
continually asked him, and my asking him simply would place my friendship on
their same level.  My friendship could be
misinterpreted, implying that having sex was all that I really was interested
in.  That impressed him, for when he
graduated and left college, he gave me some gifts including three photos of
himself.  The color one is included with
this story.  I have one very large,
glass-framed composite-portrait in silver that was part of his final
commercial-art portfolio.  He wrote on
the back of the picture, “Love ya always, Peter.”
The last time that I talked
with Peter, he expressed, for the first time that I observed, some loss of
confidence.  Here he had graduated and
was going out into the real world.  He
was afraid of how people would treat him, his being so obviously gay.  He imagined that he might have to limit
himself to living on the East Coast or West Coast where there might be a
greater percentage of tolerant people.  I
hope that he chose well.
I often have wondered what
became of Peter.  Out of curiosity, I did
a couple of searches on the web.  All
that I found were listings for several people with the same name, but none
appeared to be “The Peter.”  Perhaps it
is it is just as well that I do not have a current photo of him.  We all have aged, and even he was not
immortal.  I’ll just remember him as he
was, the golden, cheerful, charismatic Peter. 
And just maybe, he might discover our blog and read this story.                                     
© 04 April 2014 

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.
Posted on

Time by Will Stanton

“This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down.”
So went Gollum’s riddle to
Bilbo.  Of course, the answer is “Time.”  Everything falls prey to time; nothing
lasts.  And, this includes humankind.  Our lives are but a mere speck in contrast
to, for example, geological time, although our lives usually are longer than
the fleeting moment allotted to a butterfly.
We usually have no inkling as to
how long our lives will be.  I always
have felt uncomfortable with the possibility that I may not have used my time
so productively as I might have, that I may have accomplished more to make me
truly worthy of this gift of time. 
Ironically, I currently spend a lot of time on these Story-Time
presentations.
In Thomas Mann’s acclaimed novella
“Death in Venice,” the protagonist Gustav von Aschenbach is shocked by a sudden
realization of mortality when he suffers a heart attack.  Afterwards as he watches the sands running
through a large hourglass, he muses, “The aperture through which the sand runs
is so tiny that, at first sight, it seems as if the level in the upper glass
never changes.  To our eyes, it appears
that the sand runs out …only at the end. 
And ‘til it does, its’ not worth thinking about ‘til the last moment
when there’s no more time…when there’s no more time to think about it.”     
Oh, I know that, in comparison, I
may have used my time more productively than many other people.  A lot of  people waste their lives in pursuit of hedonistic
pleasure or self-aggrandizement.   Or
worse, they throw away their lives through self-destructive behaviors or
destroy other people’s lives through mistreatment or violence.  Yet for even those of us who have had good
intentions, have we made the best use of our time?
I never have come to terms with
reality, always fantasizing that life and the world could be more ideal.  It may not be so, but it often appears that
the good die young, and the bad live on into old age. Why can’t those persons
throughout history who devoted their lives to helping others, to making the
world a better place, who had the talent to create great beauty in life, live
very long lives? 
Can you imagine a 20th-century
world without World War I, the Russian revolution and communism, World War II,
the Cold War?  What if Archduke Ferdinand
of the Austro-Hungarian Empire had not been assassinated at age of fifty and
had had time to continue his reformist influence that well may have defused the
tension between Serbia and the monarchy? 
There may have been no Great War, no millions of dead, no World War II,
not so much horror and sorrow.
Anyone who cares to learn the true
facts of history now knows through revelations from U.S. and former Soviet
Union officials that J.F.K. and Bobby, through back-channels, literally
prevented World War III and nuclear holocaust. 
What if John F. Kennedy had not been shot at age 47 and, instead, had
time to carry out his plans to withdraw our troops from Vietnam and to continue
to counter, as best he could, the military-industrial complex that President
Eisenhower had warned against?  Could he
have prevented thousands of U.S. soldiers and tens of thousands of foreign civilians
from dying?  Could he have prevented the
waste of trillions of dollars?  We only
can speculate, for he did not have enough time with us.  Neither did Bobby.
What if Martin Luther King, who
died at 39, had had time to continue his message of non-violence, equal rights
for all, economic balance among all citizens? 
We might not have had the riots and blazing neighborhoods that followed
his assassination.  He might have helped
to avert the rapid back-slide into political discrimination and the
disproportionate domination of wealth by so few.  His concern was for more than just the Blacks
of the nation but rather for all.  But,
his time was cut short.
Then in early history, there was
Giordano Bruno in the 16th century who, through his scientific observations,
saw for himself that our sun is a star, just like many other stars in the
heavens; and he expressed the opinion that we are not alone in the universe,
that there are many worlds far beyond. 
What other scientific revelations would he have found had the Church not
burned him at the stake in 1600 at age fifty-two?  He should have lived a long life.
There also have been many creative
individuals such as the young physicist Henry Moseley whose scientific theories
were so brilliant that he was assumed to be destined to win the Nobel Prize had
he not been killed in action at Gallipoli in World War I.  Why couldn’t someone like that have more time?
Music historians claim that Mozart
was the greatest musical genius of all times. 
The beauty of his creations continues to enhance the lives of those of
us who choose to listen.  What great
works could he have written had ne not died of rheumatic fever at age thirty-five?  Wasn’t he entitled to a life at least as long
as some evil person such as Mafia don Joseph Bonano?
And, what about the young and
innocent such as Ryan White who received a tainted blood transfusion and died
of AIDS at eighteen, or Martin Richard, the little eight-year-old boy who
recently was blown to bits in a terrorist bombing in Boston?  Ironically, one of the last photos of him
showed him holding a sign that he had made that said, “No more hurting
people.”  If they had lived full lives,
what contributions might they have made to the world?
If people must meet untimely
deaths, why not the evil and destructive people of the world instead, those terrible
individuals who harm others, destroy the planet, those who lie, cheat, and
steal?  There are far too many of those.  Had their time been extremely short, what
horrors could have been avoided?   
What if Adolf Hitler had died
young of syphilis in Munich, or Josef Stalin had died early so that his
paranoid evil had no chance of infecting Russia and the world?  How much more wonderful the world might have
been without the Hitler’s Holocaust, Stalin’s genocides, “Bomber” Harris’ order
to fire-bomb peaceful Dresden.
And frankly said, what about the
possibility of an apparently sociopathic vice-president succumbing to his first
heart attack instead of mechanically being kept alive like Darth Vader?  What if he, along with all of his nefarious
political manipulators and financial supporters, had perished from the earth
early on?  Might the President whom the
people actually chose have had a chance to serve his two terms rather than a cadre
of misguided ideologues who wreaked endless political and financial havoc upon
the nation and the world?  How different
would the world be today?  If that time
had been allotted to other people who were motivated to do good, what a
different world we would live in today.
Ironically in recent years, that
realization has come to a couple of Supreme Court Justices.  They quietly have lamented to friends that,
in retrospect, they now realize that the Supreme Court broke with all legal
precedence, terminating a presidential vote-count, an action that subsequently
was found to have put the wrong men into office and consequently unleashed
unforeseen events that have caused great hardship and sorrow to the nation and
the world.
None of us in this room is either
J.F.K. nor Stalin, neither Mozart nor Darth Vader.  So, what do we make of our lives?  All that each of us can do is to take the
time remaining for us and do the best we can. 
Be positive and creative, be honest and loyal, treat each other well,
love each other.  And, enjoy the company
of those who feel as we do.  Live well,
for time is short.  Eventually, this
thing, time, all things devours.

© 2 April
20013

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.
Posted on

The Wisdom of LGBT Identity by Ricky

Why should we expect any kind of “wisdom” from anyone who self-identifies as a member of the LGBT community, considering the extreme persecution of male homosexuals over the past few thousand years? It just does not seem very wise to risk public ridicule or hatred. Yet, over the centuries, thousands of men taken in the act of sodomy were/are punished in various ways (depending upon the society involved and the era of the occurrence). Punishments commonly used were death (by hanging, downing, decapitation, and burning), amputation of genitals, life imprisonment, pillorying, banishment, self-imposed exile to avoid prosecution, and ostracism.

It has been said, that “bisexuality” itself is but one stigmata of genius; which in itself is an interesting observation considering all the famous “genius” level homosexual men that have lived and advanced science, art, and literature over the centuries. Does it not follow then that the stigmata of non-bisexual lesbians and gays is “super genius?” Of course, many of us “geniuses” never fully develop our gifts, talents, and genius abilities, which appears to show a lack of wisdom.

In recently past centuries, homosexual men of great gifts and talents have through their poetry wrought great changes in public attitudes and social norms over time.

Shakespeare, Byron, Shelly, and others wrote tender poems of love to male youths disguised as sonnets and verse to women, and our present culture would be poorer, had they not been written even though disguised as they were. Thomas Mann’s work of Death in Venice is an example of how one can in slow stages fall in love with the natural beauty of a youth of the same sex. In all these examples, which are but a few of hundreds, the common denominator is “love.”

The slow outing of “love” between people regardless of sexual orientation is what over time has changed society’s view of gay relationships; views which ultimately forced the government out of bedrooms. England did not decriminalize homosexuality until 1967. For the one hundred years before that date, conviction of sodomy carried a life sentence and prior to that, a death sentence since 1533.

When Byron began studying the Greek classics, Plato’s writings were not available in his school. Plato’s Symposium was so full of homosexual content (labeled Greek Love) that homophobic England would not allow it taught to English schoolboys so as not to corrupt them. When other English scholars decided to translate Plato, they changed the text where they needed to, replacing male references to either female or “friend” or “servant,” etc. to hide the truth; a process called bowdlerization (a new word for me). At one point in his life, Shelly translated the “Symposium” himself, but so great was the homophobia remaining in England, that even he “toned down” the references to avoid public outrage. Sadly, after his death, the publisher and Shelly’s widow made changes that are even more egregious; the translation not published until 150 years after Shelly’s death; long after the need for “toning down the references” was necessary.

Since extreme homophobia existed in England to the point that England’s poets disguised the male object of their love poems as female and classic works of philosophy were deliberately “sanitized”, have you ever wondered if the King James Bible translation team (using original documents in Greek) altered their translation of the Bible to inflame or conform to society’s view (the king’s view) of homosexual behavior?

With extreme homophobia and persecution of the previous centuries now behind, perhaps the wisest thing about the LGBT identity is what continues to evolve from the Stonewall Riots; acceptance and recognition that love between two people is a beautiful thing and is no one else’s business or legitimate concern. Acceptance and recognition are the unanticipated consequences of bi and gay poets of past centuries openly expressing their love for another male in the only way available to them; camouflaged as love for a woman.

Sometimes, fear of negative consequences can cause one to make wise choices that still carry one’s message but generate praise.

© 3 December
2012


About the Author



I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com.