The Norm, by Will Stanton

Webster’s dictionary lists
several possible definitions for “the norm.” 
Two of them are as follows: “Something that is usual or expected,” and
“A widespread or usual practice.”  Based
upon those two definitions, I certainly am not “the norm.”  Who knows why?  I’m sure it’s mostly inborn.  Perhaps I have inherited more unusual genes,
or perhaps I even have alien genes from some other planet.  All I know is that I certainly am not like,
what seems to be, the usual American person.
To begin with, I can watch
football – – – if I have to, but I never have become screamingly excited about
the commercial mega-business of football where the NFL commissioner makes
forty-four million dollars per year and has a special relationship with the
owner of the Patriots who helped him get that job.  The local football franchise, win or lose,
does not affect my life.  If they win, I
don’t receive a check, and I never have received an eleven million dollar
signing bonus.  I just am not like, what
appears to be, the majority of Americans who live and breathe football.  I’m not part of that norm.
I also never have felt
inclined to riot after a game, becoming drunk, joining a mob in the streets at
midnight, jumping on cars, and burning couches. 
It happens so frequently, especially with young people, that it seems to be the norm, but I’ve never been
part of it.
In contrast, for example, I
enjoy diverse forms of music: jazz, bluegrass, folk; but I have an especially
deep understanding and passionate love of serious music.  It’s just part of me; I was born that
way.  I don’t have the physical
capability to be a great pianist or superb singer, but I am capable of
recognizing those relatively few, fortunate individuals who do have those
gifts.  Also inborn, I have a natural
aversion to that large percentage of painfully untalented rock-noisicians and
screaming pop stars, those who have deluded themselves, along with huge mobs of
fans, into believing that they have great musical talent.   I never have been part of those mindlessly
enraptured and drug-intoxicated mobs.  I
am not part of the norm.
I have a deep appreciation
for innate quality as opposed to superficial value.  This is true with humans as well as material
goods, architecture, and fine arts.  For
example, the Wall-Street huckster who used eighty-seven million dollars of
government bail-out money to refurbish his office does not garner my
admiration, even when he looks good in two-thousand-dollar suits and drives a
Ferrari.  It seems to me that most people
are easily impressed with wealth and power. 
I’m not; I’m not part of the norm. 
There are people in this room with love in their hearts and who have
credited themselves with acts of kindness whom I admire far more.
Over the years, we all have
seen, far too often, examples of politicians and business people lying,
cheating, and committing acts of character assassination.  Greed and corruption appear to be so
prevalent that it now appears to be the norm. 
I cannot be part of that norm; it’s just not within me.  I could not be, what often is thought of as,
the “successful business tycoon” because I do not have barracuda or shark
blood.  I could not be an influential
politician because, the moment I tried manipulating people or lying, I’d turn
green and throw up.
Oh, I know that there are
good people, people whom I would admire if I met them and some that I have met
and do appreciate.  They may not be the
majority of the world’s population, but there must be a good number of them.  Separate them out from the masses, let them
stand alone, and I’d be comfortable being part of their norm.
© 30 January 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. 

The Norm by Pat Gourley

I have for years dreaded being described as ‘normal’.  As queers we are really anything but normal
whether we like it or not and I truly believe that this is our greatest gift.
There is that old Chinese curse “may you be born in interesting times”.  A similar curse for me would be “may you be born
normal”.
I must admit though that earlier on in my HIV diagnosis I
craved “normal” lab values but eventually came to appreciate the fact that one
can live quite a relatively healthy and productive life and still not be in the
‘normal range’. Normal really is something that is not all its cracked up to be.
I suppose too there was a time in the sixties when I was experiencing my great
gay awakening that I wished I could be normal. Fortunately, thanks to a much
older lover, the Grateful Dead and an amazing commie Holy Cross nun I soon got
over that!
Normal is defined as conforming to a standard, being typical
or expected. How boring is that! I suspect the normal ones in the human herd
rarely initiate evolutionary change in virtually any sphere of their lives. I
am in favor of abolishing the term all together particularly when used in
medical or psychiatric settings. A sub-definition of the word if you will is
“free from physical or mental disorders”. Who the hell can honestly claim that
reality?
I was once again reminded of how being outside the norm can
be a very powerful agent for creating change while delivering progressive
political and social messages particularly in the hands of a gay man. This
light bulb of “fuck normal” once again went off in my head when I saw the Keith
Haring exhibit at the de Young museum
in San Francisco this past January. For anyone not familiar with Haring or his artwork
he was a very prolific gay artist who lived in New York City from 1978 until
his death from AIDS in February 1990.
I suppose my first impression of his art that I recall was in
the late 1980’s and I thought how simple, I could probably do that. Ha, well I
guess that bit of self-delusion wasn’t really normal now was it! I have
overtime though come to greatly appreciate the simple complexity and actually
many revolutionary aspects of his immense body of work. Not only was Keith very
openly gay he also was quite upfront about his AIDS and these two realities
permeate much of his later work as do many themes of social justice and the
corporate greed and rape of the planet.
Haring never drew from sketches but rather had the ability to
just start doing it and it happened in amazing fashion. The de Young exhibit also had a short
documentary with it that was quite enlightening into his beautiful soul, his
politics, his sexuality, his AIDS and most amazingly his creative process. Wow,
nothing normal about him. And talk about simple line drawings that celebrate
the penis, often his own, the exhibit was resplendent with many phalli.
 And of course on my
second trip the next day through the exhibit I was reminded that this was San
Francisco and that we weren’t in Kansas. There were dozens of middle school
boys and girls on a field trip viewing the many graphic sexual images and not
appearing to be phased in the least. In fact many were taking notes for class
and actually discussing, and not in hush whispers or giggles, the many amazing
ways fucking and sucking whereon display and at the same time delivering a
strong social and often political message.
For whatever reason most of Haring’s work is not titled. He
as often as not addresses issues of racism, AIDS, climate change and the many
societal facets of capitalist corruption and greed so rampant in our culture
today in his work with simple lines. His drawings also often speak to very
basic human realities of love, kindness, generosity and the constant message
that we are one world and most certainly all in this together.
A short quote form the artist:
“Drawing is still basically the same
as it has been since prehistoric times. It brings together man and the world.
It lives through magic.”
Thank the universe that there was nothing normal about the
magic Keith Haring brought to the world.
©
February 2015
 
About the Author 
  

 I was born in La Porte Indiana in 1949, raised on a farm and schooled
by Holy Cross nuns. The bulk of my adult life, some 40 plus years, was spent in
Denver, Colorado as a nurse, gardener and gay/AIDS activist. I have currently returned to Denver after an
extended sabbatical in San Francisco, California.