Tag: Elder Words

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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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Endless Joy by Will Stanton

This selected topic “Endless Joy” puzzles me. Why was it chosen? What could it possibly mean? After all, for any human being to experience endless joy rationally seems to be an impossibility. No one experiences endless joy unless he either wishes to arbitrarily interpret his life that way or if he is delusional.

The human condition does not allow for endless joy. We are born mortal, already flawed, and vulnerable to a myriad of trials, tribulations, disappointments, and sorrows throughout life. I realize that some people apparently are blessed with a generally positive attitude, whereas others are plagued with doubt and pessimism. Each may view conditions and events differently; however, neither is slated to be gifted with endless joy.

Perhaps if a person compartmentalizes his life into a variety of conditions, experiences, and activities, one might suggest that one or more of those categories presents endless joy. Taking myself for an example, I have learned over the years that I have an especially deep understanding and appreciation of truly fine music. Such superlative music never fails to provide me with joy, passion, and solace. So, separating out those moments when I either hear or play such high-quality music, they cumulatively provide me with endless joy.

By nature, I also especially appreciate and respond to true love, friendship, and camaraderie. It is a rare person who claims not to require the companionship of fellow human beings, but I do sense that I especially am sensitive to such human gifts.

Admittedly, my appreciation of Mother Nature is very selective. I am a romantic and idealist. So, there are seasons and locales to which I respond deeply, whereas there are others that I feel to be far less inviting, less aesthetic, perhaps even harsh or dangerous. For those ideal aspects of nature, they, too, provide me with great joy. To, again, express such experiences cumulatively, Nature can provide me with joy.

Because none of us is in the springtime of our lives, we generally are suffering a variety of afflictions to our health along with daily concerns and trials. I pity those who may have bowed under the weight of elder life and have lost a sense of joy. Instead, we might regard being alive each day as joy, at least in some aspects of our lives, no matter the difficulties or pain.

I see no viable alternative. Wishing is unrealistic and impractical, although we may engage in it from time to time. I am aware that in some Greek plays and Baroque operas, when some problem has become overwhelming and unsolvable, the authors often employed (as expressed in the Latin phrase) deus ex machina, meaning that a divine power spontaneously intervenes with a device that solves the problems. For example, the lonely and unfortunate cyclops Polifemo, blinded and desperate, pleads with Jove for intervention, who does respond and grants Polifemo the gift of immortality. We might envy Polifemo’s great good fortune.

On a more realistic plain, finding joy in life may be a real art, an acquired skill, a consistent philosophy. So, it is important for each of us to seek and experience a variety of joys, great or small, each day. For me, Story Time, and its members, has become one of those joys.

December, 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.

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Elder Words by Phillip Hoyle

I read this somewhere:

When I turned forty I knew a lot about life.

When I turned fifty every new experience reminded me of a story from the past.

When I turned sixty I thought I was supposed to tell the stories.

Now at sixty-four with croaky voice I say:
Bah humbug.
The next generation is going to the dogs. (Quoting Ovid)
I’m feeling passé.
Moan, groan.
Youth is wasted on the young.
The food here used to be better.
Today I feel like Grandpa Grunt.
Their prices sure have gone up.
I really miss the good old days when things made sense.

Elder words are not new to me. Any number of times I heard them proffering advice, insight, and hope. My folks wanted me to have a good life and somehow to learn from their experience, so I ask you to listen while I tell you their good words.

Words my elders said to me:

Earl Hoyle, my dad: A kind man who wanted his children to have meaningful lives helping other people, Dad was spare in his advice giving. He didn’t select any of his children’s life-work or push them towards a specific career. Yet he did give me two words of advice concerning what I might seek for myself. “For a career,” he advised, “do something you really like to do,” and “Don’t be a musician.” My settlement was to work as a minister in churches leading their choirs and music programs.

Professor Joe Secrest: My main music teacher in undergraduate school, Mr. Secrest encouraged me in many ways providing varied musical resources and experiences. He liked my musicality and dedication to music, and he may have seen that my path into pastoral ministry would be wrong for me. He also may have understood more about my personality and potentials than I ever imagined; after all, he was a musician. At the end of my junior year he proposed: “I’ll stay here another year if you’ll change your major to music.” That was all I needed to hear. I changed my major. It cost me an additional year of schooling but was worth every hour, every book, every measure of music, and every dollar spent.

John Conroe: This handsome and kind man worked in the oil business encouraging folk to sign mineral rights leases. He and his wife lived simply although they had loads of resources. At the church where I had my first full-time job, she greeted at the door and he ushered the center aisle for the eleven o’clock service. They accepted Myrna and me and eventually our children into their lives like they were our parents. One fine day John said this to me: “They should never say of either of us: he worked himself to death.” I agreed with the sentiment and have lived into its easing wisdom.

Rev. Ed, mentor: When I began graduate study at Wichita State University and took on a part-time youth ministry at Broadway Christian Church, I shared an office with a retired American Baptist minister. On occasion Ed and I talked. He seemed interested in my ways of thinking. We read and discussed books on theological and psychological themes. I was amazed at his elder mind, for although the conversations sometimes lagged due to his slower come-backs, he several times recalled the outline of books he had studied thirty years before. I learned from him and was acutely aware of the irony of heeding the advice of a Baptist minister who said: “Go to seminary.”

Dr. Beckelheimer, professor of homiletics: In seminary, at the first meeting of a social ethics graduate seminar, “Strategies for Change” (a kind of Saul Alinsky community organizing course), I realized my real motivation for taking the course was my anger—at the church, at the need for credentials, at the whole world, and at the upset I had caused my family by moving to Texas. I was just plain angry and realized I needed to study something harmless, so immediately after that first session, after I had lied about why I was there, I went to the seminary office to drop that course and sign up for “Principles of Preaching.” The class would be my third three-semester-hour course in homiletics. I’d had two as an undergraduate student and already had discovered I’d be happy to live the rest of my life without preaching another sermon. I took Dr. Beckelheimer’s course and was the first student he ever he gave an “A” to on every sermon submitted. I didn’t like his course, but later in my effort to get out of seminary one semester early, I signed up for another one that sounded better to me, “Experimental Preaching,” a two-hour course in summer school. Again I did superior work that deeply impressed my unimpressive instructor. When I was almost done with my seminary education, Dr. Beckelheimer stopped me in the hallway. In his over-serious although sincere manner, he said: “Be sure you preach.” I did preach some for the next twenty years. As an associate minister I covered vacations and other times away for the senior ministers in several churches. I must have preached about one hundred fifty sermons—addresses I made sure my senior ministers understood I didn’t want to deliver. They liked me for that since I seemed no threat to their position.

Dr. James Duke and Dr. Cy Rowell: In seminary two other professors gave me identical advice. Both seemed impressed by my scholarship. Dr. Duke said: “I’d encourage you to do post-graduate work in church history except there won’t be any jobs.” Dr. Rowell said the same about religious education except that he explained, “There won’t be any jobs; too many people are already lined up getting their degrees.” I appreciated their advice that correlated well with the decision that had landed me in seminary anyway. I had chosen seminary when I realized I didn’t want to pursue postgraduate work in music history.

Rev. Kathryn Williams, a regional associate minister, friend, and mentor: I appreciated many things about Kathryn besides her enthusiasm. She had served as a missionary in the then Belgium Congo and from that experience had unusual views on culture and educational process. She helped me gain a particular approach to childhood education in a church setting, one I employed often in planning events and writing curriculum resources. Besides all that, I just liked her, her accessibility, humor, sharp insights, and constant encouragement. Sometime during the last year of my seminary education, Kathryn said to me: “I know a hundred ministers in their fifties and almost every one of them is bitter at the church. I don’t want that for you.” I thanked her for the wise advice and pledged to quit before I grew to hate my work. Eventually her observation led me to leave ministry.

Geraldean McMillin, school teacher, now retired: Geraldean and I started talking years ago. She taught economics to high school students and so her insights often related to her theories about economics. Growing up in the Missouri Ozarks, she also reflected an earthy common sense. We talked and talked and still do. She asserts it’s the job of elders to be wise. Among many wise sayings she has taught me, I most appreciate this one: “You can’t get a job without experience; can’t get experience without making mistakes.” Her practical approach has helped me deal with my own faux pas and snafu’s.

Ronnie Montoya, friend: I learned sage words from the mouth of a younger person, words that reflected his greater experience, talk that always combined humor and wisdom. He served me as a singular friend, a gateway into Hispanic experience, and a sexual playmate. This short, chubby, cute guy entertained me in Albuquerque. I had met him through my wife who worked with him. The three of us started going out to dance. Ronnie and I started doing more together—playing pool, kicking around, driving here and there, and eventually having sex. A few weeks into our affair, Ronnie warned, “If you get enough man-to-man sex, you’ll want a lot more.” Such truth! I became one of his best-ever students and continued my studies after moving to two other cities. I’m still studying.

Winston Weathers, writer, literary agent, and professor of writing: This elder statesman of creative writing invited me to his apartment several afternoons when I lived in Tulsa. With his partner of forty years we shared wine, snacks, and talk of art, literature, and writing. I didn’t know much about Winston except that he was a retired university professor and that his published poetry and short fiction had gained critical attention. He knew writing and one day told me: “Gay fiction needs more than drugs, dancing, and wild sex.” I am seeking to follow his advice.

Words describing an elder ideal:

Wisdom is knowing what to do with knowledge
Adages distill wisdom
Stories tell the truth
Poetry reaches deeper

© 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.com

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ABCs of Life by Donny Kaye

It seems that life is about mastery. In my mind, Mastery is not to be confused with perfection but rather the ability to actually experience life as it presents, moment-by-moment. Mastery connotes experiencing life effortlessly, without resistance and in the spirit of surrender. By surrender, I am not suggesting submission or irresponsibility.

There was a time when I experienced life in a very black and white manner, with little tolerance at all for the shades of gray that constitute actually living life as it presents. My personality needed knowledge and control to assure me that I was on some predetermined “single” pathway.

There is a part of me that would like to believe that life can be guided by a list such as The ABC’s of Life, however; my experience suggests that about the time I master A, B and C, life requires guidance from X, Y and Z!

If I were to create such a list, the wise one within would begin with ALLOWANCE. As I use the term allowance, I’m not thinking of the seventy-five cents a week for taking out the trash or cleaning off the dishes nightly from the dinner table. Allowance is a pre-requisite of being able to meet life’s challenges just as they present. Allowance is a way of looking at my life events not as obstacles to getting what I want but rather as stepping stones. Allowance cultivates trust. Trust that everything that appears appears as it must. Trust that comes through the experience of allowance, allows for certain things to fall away from my life as well as for certain things to come into my life.

The B in A, B, C, is just that, be! Being is about cultivating a capacity to be present to what is. Being allows for an informed response to what is, rather than the experience of constantly reacting with either agreement or disagreement. The constant reaction to what appears begins to lessen and a true sense of wonder serves as the lens for viewing life’s experiences.

Change is constant, becomes another critical aspect for me in understanding life. I have found that when I am able to surrender to the changes that are life, I am better able to stop resisting and instead, allow what life’s experiences bring to me. Change is constant! What must I do to create the ability to remain flexible in my thinking and my actions? To allow and be, requires flexibility and surrender to the realization that change is inevitable.

My years of experience in this lifetime, and quite possibly, previous life times, make the development of a full list, A-Z daunting and perhaps impossible to create. As an educator, I remember using excerpts with my staff from the book, Everything I Needed to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten.

As I look back on that listing of essential learning from kindergarten, I am reminded of the following ABC’s of Life, by Robert Fulghum:

  • Share everything.
  • Play fair.
  • Don’t hit people.
  • Put things back where you found them.
  • Clean up your own mess.
  • Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
  • Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody.
  • Wash your hands before you eat.
  • Flush.
  • Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
  • Live a balanced life – learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
  • Take a nap every afternoon.
  • When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.
  • Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: the roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
  • Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup – they all die. So do we.

Everything you need to know is in this list of ABC’s somewhere.

And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned – the biggest word of all – LOOK.

LOOK! I must develop my capacity to witness my life, without bias or expectation, and always with a sense of Wonder for what is. Realizing that “what is” is precisely the life event that is needed for a certain life lesson.

I am not suggesting a naive or Pollyannaish outlook on life but the creation of a life which when viewed by the witness within is viewing the life experience with clarity, through a lens which does not distort, nor color everything as rose colored glasses might.

In David Whyte’s poem, “No Path”, he states in his opening line, “There is no path that goes all the way. Not that it stops us from looking for the full continuation.” To exist with an expanded sense that there is no one way, be it right or even direct, but the experience of life from the perspective that everything belongs is entirely possible and practical.

About the Author

Donny Kaye-Is a native born Denverite. He has lived his life posing as a hetero-sexual male, while always knowing that his sexual orientation was that of a gay male. In recent years he has confronted the pressures of society that forced him into deep denial regarding his sexuality and an experience of living somewhat of a disintegrated life. “I never forgot for a minute that I was what my childhood friends mocked, what I thought my parents would reject and what my loving God supposedly condemned to limitless suffering.” StoryTime at The Center has been essential to assisting him with not only telling the stories of his childhood, adolescence and adulthood but also to merely recall the stories of his past that were covered with lies and repressed in to the deepest corners of his memory. Within the past two years he has “come out” not only to himself but to his wife of four decades, his three children, their partners and countless extended family and friends. Donny is divorced and yet remains closely connected with his family. He lives in the Capitol Hill Community of Denver, in integrity with himself and in a way that has resulted in an experience of more fully realizing integration within his life experiences. He participates in many functions of the GLBTQ community.

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Feeling Loved by Lewis

[Let me preface my remarks by saying that I am not a psychological expert. What follows are the opinions of a lay person with 67 years of living experience.]

For a person to feel loved, I think there are three prerequisites, three questions that they or I have to answer in all candor:

The first question is: Do I love myself?

The second question is: Am I capable of recognizing and accepting without question the love of others?

The third question is: Am I capable of loving others?

I will deal with the three questions in order—

1. Do I love myself?

If I feel unworthy of love personally, then I have a very real problem in believing that others could love me. In fact, I might even feel anger toward them for having such poor taste. It is quite common to hear of men who abuse or even murder their lovers or spouses. I suspect that such men feel so badly about themselves that they blame those closest to them for not understanding that they are unworthy of love. Because they feel victimized and worthless, they feel justified in taking out their frustration on those closest to them, after which they can penalize themselves further.

To feel loved, I must feel that I am worthy of love and that I am able to give love in return. I must be able to see what love is, what it looks like in all its forms, which brings me to the second question.


2. Am I capable of recognizing and accepting without question the love of others?

A person may be able to love themselves but not perceive love from others directed toward them. They need not have disordered personalities but may have been so without compassion and love as children that they tend to distrust the motives of those who do demonstrate love toward them. They may feel that they are being set up for disappointment later or they may not even recognize love in some of its multitudinous forms.

If I am sitting on a stool in a gay bar and a man puts his hand on my knee, is that a sign of love? If he looks into my eyes with passion, is that love? What does it mean if he buys me expensive gifts? What if he offers to water my plants while I am on vacation? Or to give me a free back rub? Or to buy me a drink? My 35-year-old son tells me that I should call him every time because I am the father. Is paternal love a one-way street? These are hard questions for anyone to answer.


3. Am I capable of loving others?

Sociopaths and narcissists are incapable of empathy. They are so disassociated from the feelings of others that they are unable to perceive the need for love in others and have no love left to give away. They are not capable of perceiving love when it is shown to them because they think it is their “due”. They cannot give love to others because they think it will diminish themselves. They can “feel love” only so much as it reinforces their already ingrained opinion of themselves.

In conclusion, in order to feel loved, I must feel that I have room for improvement and am flawed enough to warrant criticism. Only this quality makes it possible to appreciate those whose love is showered upon me despite my imperfections.

Unconsciously, I ask myself every day, “How much love do I need?” and “How am I going to get it?”. One way I get it is by coming here. I can feel it and it is good.

© 21 October 2013

About
the Author

I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn’t getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth.

Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband’s home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.

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Still Learning by Ray S

Concerning today’s topic here are some words of wisdom from a wise old elder of the tribe.

The saying goes “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks (depending on the trick)” but here’s a selection of learned gems to remind us what we may have already learned or can still work on for our own enlightenment.

1. Compromise is what you do when you think you have to.

2. Seems like it is never too late to try something new and learn from it.

3. Did you parents know what they did with you and where did they learn it?

4. Life is learning. A lot like a pin ball game. You bounce from one pin to the next and ultimately end up in a hole.

5. Learning’s most beautiful aspect is the acquiring of the ability to love one another and the defeat of learned guilt.

6. Still, learning is knowing oneself and how to love yourself and knowing that in the end everything’s OK. If it’s not OK, it’s not the end.

The End.

© 18 November 2013

About the Author

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Hitting a Milestone by Nicholas

The first thing I wanted to do on reaching 60 years of age was look back. Look back on just how I turned out to be me. As I’m writing this, Quicksilver Messenger Service—does anybody remember that ‘60s rock group? —is singing “What are you going to do about me?” Good question. What am I going to do about me? A little self obsessed, maybe, but there’s no apologizing needed for that in this day and age.

In 2006, I turned 60 years of age. This was one of those milestone “zero” birthdays, like 30, 40, 50. Only this one seemed to hit me as more of a milestone than the others ever did. I wasn’t sure if it marked another mile but I sure felt the weight of the stone.

I like to say that I faced my 60th birthday instead of that I celebrated my 60th. There was a celebration, of course, one of the best parties I’ve ever had. It was put together by my sisters and Jamie and was quite a wing-ding, with catered food, champagne, a huge cake and lots of family and friends to share it with. In fact, I extended the celebration to all that year long, not just one day. It was not just another routine birthday passed with a day off work, a bike ride in the mountains, a special dinner with Jamie, a few cards and presents and then on to the next day. No, this one meant something.

This birthday was different and needed to be marked differently. This one presented challenges. It demanded to be paid attention to. Turning 60 was truly a cusp of something, a turning point. I am now closer to my departure from this planet than am I to my arrival upon it.

I felt that I’d crossed a threshold, stepped over a line, a boundary to somewhere though I was not sure where. If the past was a burden piling up behind me, the future seemed a foggy mystery and unknown territory. I was in a new country without a map and with loads of hopes and fears but not sure what direction to take.

Suddenly, I felt a sense of being old. Now I was one of the old people, a senior citizen. I was now entitled, if I summoned the nerve, to boot some young person out of those seats at the front of the bus reserved for old folks. I’ve never done that, of course. But I was old and everybody knew it. No more anonymity, I was marked with gray hair, sagging skin, a bit slower to take stairs, and a few more bottles of pills on the shelf. Now with this birthday and every birthday hence, my age was a matter of public policy. I was officially a statistic, a “boomer,” a term I despise. This birthday and the party to commemorate it left me with an uncomfortable self-consciousness.

And some confusion. One morning I was bicycling along the South Platte River, following the familiar path when suddenly the way was blocked and I was shuffled off onto a detour around a huge construction zone. I followed the detour hesitantly, not knowing exactly where I was and fearing that it was taking me too far out of the way. But the route was well marked so I continued to follow the signs. Eventually, I got back to the river path and I knew where I was.

That’s the way I was feeling on this birthday. I don’t know where this path is leading and this one is not marked at all. Am I on another detour or is this the main path? I’m trying to work my way to a point where I can see where I’ve been and so I can figure out where I’m going. At least that’s the aim.

I have this sense of the past, my past—which has grown rather bulky—and I do not want to let go of it. I can’t let go of it. I like my history and my memories. I like what I’ve done, embarrassments and failings as well as achievements and successes.

In my first 60s—the 1960s—the world was on fire with change and excitement. There was nothing I and my generation couldn’t do to make the world a better place. Justice was on the move and so was personal freedom. The personal became the political and politics became very personal and passionate. Passion is the word I attach to the ‘60s. The music was passionate. The war and the war against the war were passionate. The drive for civil rights was passionate. The freedom was passionate.

If I hearken after any remnant of that youthful decade it is that sense of passion. If there is any bit from that era that I’d like to restore to my later years, it is that passion. Turn nostalgia around and let it lead me into the future. Grow old and find your passion. Is that wisdom speaking? Have I stumbled onto wisdom somehow?

So, yes, it was quite a party, the party of a lifetime. It was the party that marked and celebrated way more than another year on the planet. I can’t forget that party because to do so would be to forget my life, its past, present and future.

© 17 October 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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A Letter to My 9½-Year Old Self by Ricky

7 October 2013

Dear Ricky,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

15. Keep a daily journal.

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

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

Sincerely,
Your Future Self

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

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

  © 7 October 2013

About the Author

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

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

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

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

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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.

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Truth and Lies by Gillian

My mother had a saying.
Well, my mother was a constant fountain of sayings, but she had a favorite one about lies.
A truth that’s told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.
When I was little I thought these, and those of all her endless other aphorisms, were words of her own wisdom but later of course I discovered otherwise; these particular words were originated by the poet, William Blake.

Anyway, I grew up with something of an ambivalent attitude to truth and lies.
I learned, rather, that truth is something to be approached with some caution and used judiciously; the same can be said of lies.
Nothing in my life has ever caused me to change that attitude.
I was delighted when I found, recently, that J.K. Rowling of Harry Potter fame agrees. She says,
‘The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should be treated with caution.’

The poet John Keats told us that truth is beauty and beauty truth.
Sadly, there is frequently nothing uglier than the truth.
Mahatma Gandhi said,
‘Even if you are a minority of one, the truth is the truth.’
Really?
It is what is true for me. It is what I believe or perceive to be the truth.
Another’s truth may be very different, just as our realities differ.

But I am talking of subjective truth, I hear you say: truth that is based on individual sentiment.
Gay parents are every bit as good as straight parents might be my truth whereas others may sincerely believe the opposite to be true.
What about solid factual truth?
The world is round. Yes, most of us accept that, but there are still those 3000 members of the Flat Earth Society who do not. The web page for this group proclaims proudly to have been deprogramming the masses since 1547. And before Columbus tossed confusion into the ring, many of us would have believed the earth to be flat.
Factual truths change.
Both sides of the current Global Climate Change debate avidly produce facts to defend their ‘truth.’
Before our very eyes endlessly we have politicians showering us and each other with facts which handily disprove those offered by another.
The British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli referenced three types of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics.
How right he was!
There is, as Maya Angelou puts it, ‘a world of difference between truth and facts. Facts can obscure the truth.’
How right she is!

Thomas Jefferson, another great espouser of truth, said that truth can stand by itself, which I would have to question, and, ‘There is not a truth existing which I fear.’
I find many truths, or that which I believe to be true, quite terrifying.
A million in Rwanda, brutally murdered by their fellow beings? Maybe the number is not a complete truth, perhaps it was a mere 900,000 and someone rounded up, but I believe in the basic truth of the report.
How fearful is that? Climate change, speeding ahead and leaving us watching with our mouths agape?

Both truth and lies are murky, unstable things.

I rarely proclaim to have absolute knowledge of truth, and occasionally I lie, but I flatter myself that in all I have the very best of intentions

That’s about as good as I can get.

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.