Siblings, by Ricky

Before I was born, “It was a very good year. It was a very good year for small town girls [mother] and soft summer nights” [dad got her pregnant in October]. Mom and Dad hid the pregnancy from everyone by getting married in November, 1947, before it became obvious she was with child [a big scandal back then]. Immediately after, they moved from Minnesota to Lawndale, California.
After 8 months of pregnant pauses, I was born on the 9th of June 1948, another very good year for small little boys just entering the world. My mother’s sister told me about 40 years later, that I was supposed to be half of a set of twins, but sometime during the 8 months prior to my birth, the other half was spontaneously aborted. No one knew why, but I do. The first reason was two in the womb is very crowded and there was no privacy. That fact combined with the second reason (“The Other” was a straight homophobic bully) was justification for me to kick him out of my wombicile. Some may call this fratricide but I call it interior remodeling. Thus, I was born an only child. So like Harry Potter, I was the boy who lived.
The next seven years passed quickly. Mother reported all my shenanigans to my dad who was the disciplinarian in their relationship. I got lots of spankings as I was rather headstrong. So, after stresses became too much for them to handle, my parents decided to divorce in 1955 without telling me or me being aware of the impending disaster to be fall me. At the beginning of the summer of 1956 just before my 8th birthday, I was sent to live with my mother’s parents on their farm in central Minnesota. In the summer of 1957 I turned 9 and my mother came to Minnesota to attend the wedding of her sister. I thought she would take me back home to California but she would not/could not. In December at Christmas vacation from school, at age 9 ½ my father came to Minnesota for one week during Christmas and New Year’s Day. The night before he left, without me, he told me of the divorce, that mom had remarried, was pregnant with twins due to be born any day now, and I had a step-brother age 14 ½. In May, 1958, Mom and my step-father brought the twins to Minnesota to show off to my grandparents and to finally bring me back to California in a new home and family situation.
My step-brother, Gene, and I got along really well considering the difference in ages. We could talk and play together well enough. We never argued or fought. We took turns caring for the twin babies as they grew until he had to go into the Navy. He was on the USS Ticonderoga, the aircraft carrier involved in the Gulf of Tonkin incident which propelled President Johnson into escalating the Vietnam (undeclared) War.
Gene survived the Navy experience and led a normal life. He married and fathered a daughter. He worked hard, unlike me, and passed away about 5-years ago.
The twins also grew and we talked, played, and had fun together. I loved them a lot. They both grew and prospered in the normal ways. Dale also went into the Navy and survived and eventually married a woman who had four nearly grown teen and a preteen girls. He never had children of his own. He passed away four years ago. Gale is still alive and living in her home in South Lake Tahoe. She had two children who spawned several kids of their own and she now has about 10 grandchildren. All of my siblings and I went to school at South Lake Tahoe. (Gene for 4-years of high school, me from 5th grade to first year of college, Dale and Gale from K-12th grades.)
Of course my children and grandchildren are all siblings to each other respectively. One daughter is currently working for McDonald’s at their headquarters in central Chicago in the Computer Security Department for a 6-figure salary. The next daughter is working for a law firm in the Denver Tech Center area. My son is married and working somewhere in New York but lives in New Jersey. He has two children, a boy and a girl. My youngest daughter is in the Air Force in Tucson, Arizona. She also is married and has four children, three girls and one boy. All of my children are very close and are frequently communicating with each other. Family life doesn’t get much better than that.
© 10 December 2018 
 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 was sent to live 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 9-11-2001
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

Where Do We Go from Here?, by Betsy

If you take this to mean where do we go when we die—I don’t
have much to say about that. People have many different beliefs about an afterlife, beliefs which require a leap of faith. 
Although some of the beliefs I have heard of have a certain comforting
appeal to them, I do not actually believe in any of them. I don’t deny that
anything is possible, but I always seem to end up going with what I know to be
a fact. The only thing I know about where we go after death is that I don’t
know.  That I know to be the only truth
that I am currently capable of understanding or of knowing.
Where we go from here, in my view, is a question better
applied to our life here and now as mortal humans.  I like to know where I am going. For example,
after story time today I will get in my car and go to my daughter’s house after
doing a bit of shopping at Sprouts on the way. After that I will go no where
until tomorrow morning when I will go to my closet, put on some tennis clothes
and drive to the Denver Tennis Club and I will have no trouble finding my
court. After tennis I will do certain things most of which I had planned ahead
of time so, let us say, I know where I am going in my own world in so far as I
am in control of it. Now if the weather does not permit, then I will not do
what I just described. So I guess where we go from here often is conditional.
I like to at least have a sense of where my group is going as
well. I believe it is important for citizens and their leaders to know in what
direction their community, state, and country are headed. A good thing to know,
but not always palpable.
There are other factors that make our futures uncertain and
therefore make us feel a bit uneasy. This is an uncomfortable time for our
country, I believe. It must be because so much campaigning is going on we are
all very much aware that our leadership will be changing soon. I must admit, I
am more than uncomfortable about where we would be  going if Mr. Trump is elected, or any of the
Republican radical extremists who are running for president.  Then the question becomes “Where do I go from
here?”  Europe? Canada?  I don’t think so.  Bad leadership is a good reason to stick
around  and fight for what I believe in
and to be sure to vote in upcoming elections, including the local ones. 
I like some structure in my life and so I am a tad
uncomfortable not having a plan for my day—even if that plan is to sit around
and read a book all day long.  I like to
know where I am going both in the short term and the long term. I’ve noticed
that when I don’t know where I’m going—one of those brief lulls in the day when
I have finished something and don’t know what I am doing next—I often find
myself going to the refrigerator and not because I’m hungry.  Now what good does that do?
 I play tennis year
round outdoors. I have to admit I am not comfortable in the winter and bad
weather not knowing from week to week whether we will  be playing or not.  So much for short term planning. I’m not
averse to spontaneity, but generally I like to know where I am going.
I haven’t always known where I was going. There was a period
of time looking back when I was not too sure how to put one foot in front of
the other. Growing up gay certainly added tremendously to the confusion. Our
adult role models help guide us as to where we are headed, but growing up gay
in the 40’s and 50’s there were no lesbian role models—at least not in my life.
Of course there were lesbian women out there, but they could not allow
themselves to be known publicly as Lesbians. 
Once I accepted, and acknowledged to myself that I was a lesbian I had a
lot to learn suddenly about where to go from there. I didn’t even know any
lesbians. Once I started looking, however, I did find some friends who helped
“show me the ropes” so to speak. Soon I had many friends, but also I was part
of a movement. Nothing like being part of a movement to help you find your
identity and your place in society. Mostly ‘though where I went after
acknowledging my sexuality was in the direction of the coming out process. This
in itself has proven to be a journey, 
quite a long one—at times both rough and arduous as well as smooth and
easy along the way.
As I said in the beginning, I know where I am going from here
today and maybe tomorrow I know where I’m going or supposed to go. But thinking
about it I realize that except on a day to day basis, I haven’t known where I
was going.  Especially going into
different phases of life.
When I married my husband, I didn’t have any particular plans
for the future. Only for the short term. 
I don’t remember even planning to be a mother—not until I became
pregnant.    As for a job, I sought a job
in the field of work I wanted, but mostly I took what was available at the
time.
When I retired, I did not know in the long run where I was
going except to say that I would now engage in the things I like to do and
pursue my interests only now in retirement, full time rather than only when I
had a chance.  I didn’t really plan where
I was going. I was going to live life as best I could.  I honestly think most people conduct their
lives this way.
 When and if one does
make the choice as to where to go from here the question arises: “Do I ever
arrive?”  I don’t think we ever know our
destination—just the direction to take, the road to take. And that choice is
determined by our basic character—our morals, the strength of our convictions,
our sense of justice,  our values.
Some have said the
journey is more important than the destination.
The way I see it life is a journey with no ultimate
destination. It’s more of a journey with pit stops where one perhaps chooses a
new direction or a different road from time to time.
In my old age I would like to take the road that keeps me
healthy and happy. But roads often have their barriers and their potholes.  So again for the long term I
don’t know where I go from here. But I do know the direction I want to go.
Beyond that I don’t know what happens after this life, but whatever it is I’m
quite sure it’s good.
© 4 Jan 2016 
About the Author 
 Betsy has been active in
the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old
Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been
retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major
activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a
volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading,
writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage.
She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren.
Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her
life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.