Tag: Will Stanton

Posted on

Slippery Sexualities, by Will Stanton

When it comes to sexuality, both Mother Nature and
many humans have a peculiar way of dealing with it.  Starting with non-human animals, there are
several creatures that display surprising characteristics.
For example, male mourning-cuttlefish actually display
male or female physical characteristics depending upon which cuttlefish are
beside them.  Males can appear to be male
on one side and female on the other when next to another male.  The other male thinks he’s seeing two females
but no rival male.  Clown anemonefish all
start out life as male.  If the female
dies, the dominant male can change sex and become female.  Another male will become the dominant
male.  Parrotfish start out as male or
female but have sex organs of both sexes. 
They are protogynous hermaphrodites, meaning they can change from female
to male.
Human beings’ screwing with the environment is causing
some unexpected and potentially serious problems among the animal kingdom.  A common pesticide called atrazine has been
found to induce sexual changes in frogs. The pesticide affects the frogs’
production of estrogen, transforming males into successfully reproductive
females. Scientists are working to find exactly how atrazine causes this change,
since it could become an issue with other animals as well.  Maybe that accounts for, when I am attending
adult swim, my seeing so many man-boobs.
Complete hermaphroditic humans are very rare, although
perhaps one baby in 2000 is born with some degree of intersex
characteristics.  Sometimes the organs of
one gender are visible on the outside of the body, whereas the opposite gender
organs are inside.  Some medical
researchers believe that the famous Joan of Arc was, in fact, an intersex male.
By now, most people are fairly familiar with gender
reassignment for those individuals whose psychological and emotional nature are
at odds with their physical forms. 
Currently, a surprising number of people choose surgery to approximate
the opposite gender.
What is hard to explain, however, is that there are a
small number of males, including here in America, who have a psycho-sexual
compulsion to have themselves castrated. 
If any behavior can fit into the category of “slippery sexuality,” I
think this might be.
Of course, that is the perfect segue to the
Far-Eastern tradition of Hijra, sometimes known as “the third sex,” and
otherwise recognized as eunuchs.  India,
with its ancient culture and religions, is so complex that one would have to be
a scholar to even begin to understand that part of the world.  In India, the hermaphrodite, the homosexual,
and the transvestite have a symbolic value and are considered privileged
beings.  Ample examples of this are found
in Indian religion, mythology, and folklore, which are replete with traditional
religious narratives such as in the Mahabharata, and the Vedas in the Puranas.
For example, Ardhanarishvara, “The Lord whose half
is a woman,” is said to have been created by the merging of the god Shiva
and his consort Parvati.  This form of Shiva is said to
represent the “totality that lies beyond duality.”  A similar merger occurs between the
beauty-and-prosperity goddess Lakshmi and her husband Vishnu,
forming the hermaphrotitic or androgynous Lakshmi-Narayana.
Consequently, and for hundreds of years, literally
millions of young boys and men have chosen to totally emasculate themselves in
rather lengthy, traditional ceremonies in order to dress and to live as the
opposite gender – – an extremely bizarre phenomenon to us here in the West but
quite common in India, Pakistan, Thailand, and, to some extent, Singapore.

Real Hijra
Hijra Illustration
Mid-Eastern cultures have had similar polysexual
myths.  And of course, Greek culture
includes the god Hermaphroditus.  Actual
intersex individuals were considered to be special.
Hermaphroditus
Mr. Horsley’s first girlfriend.
Apparently, sexual
compulsion is so irresistible in some people that they sometimes engage in
peculiar sexual aberrations that might be described as “slippery
sexuality.”    Bestiality, having sex
with animals, is one example.  I spoke
once about Republican Congressman Neal Horsley. 
He is the man who, among other things, called for the arrest and imprisonment
of all homosexuals.  I assume that he
felt that sex among same-gender persons is disgusting.  He admitted, however, in an interview with
Alan Colmes on the Fox News Radio, to having engaged in sex with a mule.  He tried to excuse his behavior by stating,
“When you grow up on a farm in Georgia, your first girlfriend is a mule.”  In an attempt to prove to his constituents,
however, that he really is a decent man, he quickly went on to say that Jesus
had forgiven him and cleansed him of his “sin.”   How convenient.
Then there was
that young Georgia redneck who became
so drunk one night that he pulled his car
over at a pumpkin patch and was arrested
for copulating with a pumpkin.  That sounds pretty slippery.  He was taken to court, but most of the charges were
dropped because the judge and whole
courtroom broke out laughing when the
arresting officer related the incident.  She testified that she had approached the defendant
and asked, “What are you
doing with that pumpkin?” whereupon he
responded, “Oh shit!  Is it midnight already?”  This story was not made up.  It actually happened!
Well, I’ve arrived at this point only to realize that I
have barely begun to mention human urges that may be regarded by some as
“slippery sexualities,” such as sadomasochism, bondage, necrophilia, compulsive
onanism, hebephelia, ephebephilia, and even the opposite of the desire to have
sex, genophobia, the fear of having sexual relations.  Maybe I will write about these later.  As it is, I already am becoming confused by
all of this.
© 9 January 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.
Posted on

Jealousy, by Will Stanton

I’m not sure that I ever have
experienced real jealousy in my whole life. 
Based upon the correct definition of the concept, jealousy requires a
degree of bitterness and covetousness to the point that the jealous person
would be content to take away from someone else whatever he desires to
take.  Apparently, I wasn’t born nasty
enough to harbor such feelings.
 
Envy is a different matter, a
feeling that is not healthful, yet, at the same time, is not so potentially
harmful as jealousy.  One can envy the
positive attributes that someone is born with or acquires, but without wishing
to deprive the fortunate person from his attributes.
I, like most people, have
fallen prey to envy.  This is especially
true when I encounter someone who is quite healthy, young, attractive,
athletic, and who has accomplished feats not granted to me.  I certainly have envied the superlative
concert pianists their hands and skills, lamenting that I was given “feet for
hands.”  Yet, I would rather address a much
lighter topic, one that is rather more unusual; and that is being able to
travel the world and learn from it.
I benefited greatly from my
two trips to Europe, one when I was a child, and one when I was a young
adult.  Unfortunately, I have not been back,
yet those two experiences broadened my mind and provided me with the insight to
view people and events more realistically than many people do who stay mired in
their limited experiences.  Mark Twain is
famous for saying (and I agree with him), “Travel is fatal to prejudice,
bigotry, and narrow-mindedness; and many of our people need it sorely on these
accounts.  Broad, wholesome, charitable
views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner
of the earth all one’s lifetime.”
So, how advantageous it would
be for a person to not only have the opportunity to travel extensively
throughout the world, but, also, to begin doing so very young.  Well, I know of two such little boys, Nathan
and Seamus. 
Nathan
Seamus
Some time ago watching Public
Television, I stumbled upon an informative and charming program called “Travel
with Kids.”  It features a young couple,
Jeremy and Carrie, who have traveled the world together for twenty years, not
staying in fancy hotels, but, instead, sometimes backpacking and exploring
areas off the beaten path and away from most touristy locales.  Having their first baby, Nathan, did not
prevent their continuing their travels, nor did the birth of their second son
Seamus.  Instead, they have turned their
love of travel into a profitable travel program and an opportunity to provide
their little boys with wondrous sights of diverse peoples and cultures.
Those bright little kids have,
for eight years, been adsorbing experiences and knowledge like sponges.  Their parents take them to fascinating
museums, many of them interactive, where they can explore for themselves local
flora and fauna.  They interact with
local guides and townspeople, learning about history, arts and crafts, language,
and traditions.  They taste regional
cuisine, learn to try and enjoy dishes new and different to them.  Continually excited by their adventures, they
often reveal a surprising degree of acquired knowledge by speaking to the
camera, explaining quite well what they have learned.
And, the extent of their
travels and experiences is amazing. 
Apparently, they have traveled through South Korea, Venice, the
Caribbean, Victoria Falls, Naples, Thailand, South Africa, Latin America, South
Pacific, Ireland, France, Vietnam, England, Scotland, Bahamas, Belize, Greece,
Kenya, China, Jamaica, Egypt, Yucatan, Spain, Mexico, Fiji, French Polynesia,
Curacao, Tahiti, and Bora Bora.  I might
have missed some. 
I never have quite figured out
how this family crams so much travel into annual schedules that must, somehow,
include schooling for the two boys.  Yet,
I must say that what they have learned in their travels is an astonishing
supplement to their formal schooling. 
Yes, I also must say that I rather envy their wonderful opportunities
provided by their parents.
You recall the Mark Twain’s
quotation I mentioned before.  These two
kids must be the most broadminded kids in the world.  And, what a dramatic contrast to the
school-teacher I met who said something like, “I’m not interested in
traveling.  Everything in America is
bigger and better than anywhere else.”  I
just can imagine how this woman thinks about anything outside her own tiny
experience.  I also can imagine how she
votes, which is typical of the terrible social and political problems plaguing
our poor nation.
So, Nathan and Seamus, I hope
your rare and wonderful opportunity to travel so extensively contributes to
your becoming wise and empathetic adults. 
May your insight and wisdom help you both to make positive contributions
to our world.
© 16 Dec 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.
Posted on

A Defining Word, by Will Stanton

OK, so I know that two words are a term, not a word; but that is what I have chosen to write about, a term: “sexual preference.” I have chosen those two words because, over the years, they have been used so much, yet they certainly are not defining words.

Yes, I know what people usually mean when they employ that term when asking, “What is your sexual preference?” Most likely, they mean “straight or gay.” I usually answer, “I’m not sure. It’s hard for me to choose between blond or brunette. One day, I lean toward blond; yet, on other days, I’m drawn to dark-brown hair, maybe even black.”
A person’s preference may have little to do with sexual identity. For one example, I can conceive of a person born homosexual whose preference would be to be heterosexual. And of course, someone’s preference might be to a person of the opposite gender.
In addition, a person’s preference may be a partner who is young, or old, same race or different race, very good-looking or, instead, a very good person, looks being of less importance. Many gay guys seem to be preoccupied with the size of male genitalia. Other people could not care less, placing far more importance on someone’s other attributes.
In order to avoid confusion or misinterpretation, I prefer communication to be as precise as possible. Therefore, because genetics and brain structure are major determinants of each person’s drives and attractions, I suggest that the more logical term should be “sexual orientation;” and this is what I use if the subject comes up in conversation. Even then, that term is not completely defining, for people are complex and of varied natures.
And, as long as we are talking about commonly used terms, a little bell goes off each time I hear the frequently used term “bisexual.” My having involved myself for several decades in human behavioral treatment, the term “bisexual” always connotes for me a possible biological influence in someone’s nature or physical structure. After all, human sexuality is not binary, that is, either heterosexual or homosexual. Someone’s nature or orientation lies somewhere on a linear graph. For those individuals who may engage in sexual relations with people of both heterosexual and homosexual orientation, perhaps a more accurate term would be “ambisexual,” rather like in baseball, a “switch-hitter.” Or, if you would enjoy something more humorous, you might use the term “heteroflexible.”
Finally, generally I avoid popular, overused labels when describing people. People are far too varied and complex. Labeling people hinders the process of getting to know and truly understand someone. Besides, for those persons fortunate enough to have become self-actualized and broad in their interests, sexual orientation is only one part of a human, complex personality.
© 02 February 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.

Posted on

Belief, by Will Stanton

So many people, far too many people, are convinced that belief is truth; belief is the same thing as fact. Nothing could be further from the truth. For centuries, most people believed that the earth was flat; the sun circled the earth. I am saddened by the fact that many people’s hard-held beliefs defy fact and reality, and too often with dire consequences.

To the horrific discredit of humankind, many Nazis believed that all Jews should be eliminated. Pastor Anderson in Tempe, Arizona, believes that all homosexuals should be executed, supposedly because the Bible says so. Some beliefs can be shocking and deadly.

Very often, people thoughtlessly quote the hackneyed expression, “Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs.” In addition to that quotation being bad grammar, I logically disagree with the statement. If a belief is false and can cause harm to others, I feel then that one is not entitled to harbor that belief.

Yet, we daily hear evidence that so many people hold false beliefs; and, in doing so, they cause among the populace suspicion, fear, distrust, disdain, hate. For example, “President Obama is not American; his birth certificate is forged; he hates America; all the generals and admirals are quitting because they are refusing Obama’s orders to bomb our own cities.” I view such beliefs as nothing less than insanity. For the life of me, I can not understand the depth and pervasiveness of such insanity. Yet, exist is does, and in abundance.

The idea of belief in religion also raises questions in my own mind, albeit anyone questioning religion at all is an anathema to many people. I have heard Christians say that the world is a better place with religion and point to, what they refer to as, “good works” as an immediate benefit of religion, let alone supposedly having an “afterlife.” A rational person, of course, will point out that good works can be performed without the adjunct of religion, regardless of the fact that many people, such a Bill O’Reilly, claim that such humanitarian works “do not count” unless the good Samaritan is a “person of faith.” Far worse, we all are aware that, throughout history, some religious beliefs have resulted in millions of deaths from war, Inquisitions, and terror.

My whole life, I have pondered the human mind. On one hand, I am amazed by the great, creative works some notable people have contributed to the world. Yet at the same time, I remain puzzled and saddened by the pervasiveness of distorted thinking and beliefs that are so common among the populace. Without being too technical, I am aware that researches have found that some people’s brains are more prone to clutching onto beliefs for a sense of certainty and safety, rather than rationally exploring all the facts available to them. Then of course, much depends upon what one has learned and how it was learned. I frequently have witnessed religiosity-minded people becoming defensive and hostile when confronted with facts that call into question their hard-held beliefs.

All of us, to one degree or another, have beliefs that we wish to maintain. I, for one, believe that the world would be a far better place if every person cherished life, always treated each other with empathy and respect, learned to love each other. Yet, I actually have been confronted with people who have stated to me that they do not share such beliefs.

I also believe in the benefit of moral behavior. For example, I believe that American politics would be far more constructive and tolerable if all concerned acted in a moral fashion without misrepresentation, lying, denigration, character-assassination, and even theft of elections or actual assassination. Yet, I have had conversations with several religiosity-minded people who literally do not comprehend the concept that I am proposing. They believe that only winning is important and that whatever machinations are required to do so are perfectly OK. My belief in morality is not shared by them.

On a lighter note, I can think of a belief that I have held that turned out to be true even without my initially having all the facts. For some time, I held a belief, based upon experience and some research, that not all music is of equal quality, that some music is healthful and, what I call, “pro-human,” whereas some aural experiences, called “music,” are toxic to humans and animals. Some people, aware of my belief, dismissed it with disdain, claiming that my belief had no factual basis. They claimed that all music is of equal quality and that what one listens to simply is a matter of taste and preference. Then to my surprise and, I admit, my satisfaction, recent scientific research with both humans and animals has supported my early belief, and definitively so.

So, sometimes beliefs can be accurate, even without all the supporting evidence that we would prefer to have. I should hasten to say, however, this may be true, but within reason. I still feel that I reasonably can dismiss the belief that President Obama ordered our generals to bomb our cities. So, when we talk about believing something, we really should be rational and accurately know what we are talking about. Do I believe that all humans eventually will think and behave in this manner? Not really. But as for myself, I make an effort.

© 7 January 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.

Posted on

Compulsion, by Will Stanton

I suppose that it is human nature for many of us to succumb to compulsive behavior. If we attempted to list every possible form of compulsion, we would be here all day.

Eating certainly is one of the most prevalent compulsions, especially in America. I once was invited by a 400-pound man to join him and a few others for dim-sung dinner. I tried to avert my eyes while he ravenously ate multiple courses, along with everything left over from other diners at the table. I will never subject myself to that kind of disturbing experience again. America is so notorious for overeating that someone posted on-line a photo-shopped image of Michelangelo’s “David” supposedly after visiting here and eating too much American food.

Chunky David

I fell pray to overeating for a few years, all because of chronic stress. My partner died. He also was my business partner, and I tried to do both jobs. Further, in our profession, we were required to deal with many people’s ongoing problems, which was hard enough. I also had to be concerned with professional clinical and legal liability. Worse, most competing clinics were thoroughly corrupt, making tons of money, and stealing away most of my clients. Big stress.

For a while, a little place close by, B.J.’s Carousel, became the antidote to my own stress. I must have driven by B.J.’s 10,000 times before someone told me that there was a little restaurant in the back that served solid American-style food at reasonable prices. In addition, the regular patrons and staff were exceptionally friendly and accommodating. Frequently, patrons chatted with each other from table to table, fostering a warm, supportive atmosphere. The restaurant played soft, classical music, rather than the pounding drums and screaming that most restaurants play now-days. Also in the winter, they had a pot-bellied stove in the middle of the room that made the area very cozy. That’s where I would go to unwind.

Once my evening therapy groups were gone, and I had discussed each person’s case with my contract psychologist, and I had prepared the individual sessions notes for the clinical files, I felt drained. I would jump into my car and race down to B.J.’s, which stayed open late, and order an excess of comfort-food – – meat, potatoes, salad, veggies, and (of course) desert. This went on for a few years, and I must have been oblivious to the consequence until it became more obvious. Fortunately, I rarely eat that way now. The fact that B.J.’s since has shut down probably removed a pit-fall from my path.

Over those many evening dinners and Sunday brunches that I had at B.J.’s, I got to know one of the other regular patrons. It turns out that this person had a life-long obsession with trains – – – real trains, model trains, train videos and DVDs, train paintings, train artifacts and clothes. He even chose what cities in which to work so that he could be around trains. His compulsion to continually buy train stuff resulted in his living in a house crammed so full that one would need a front-loader to clear it out. His having a lot of discretionary income in retirement, he could afford to buy a state-of-the-art Lionel “Big Boy” steam locomotive that lists for $3,000.

Big Boy Locomotive

I later found out that the front of B.J.’s was a bar that was known as the place where drag-queens could go and to be in occasional drag-shows. Although popular with some people, I never have had the slightest interest in that phenomenon and don’t quite understand the compulsion to dress-up like that. But, I could not escape noticing them on show-nights when some of them would wander through the back restaurant. I truly admire natural beauty, but I can’t say that any of those individuals fit into that category. I sense that most of them realize that they never will look like ravishing, natural beauties, and some probably dress up with some sense of satire. There may be those occasional individuals who do try to look like Hollywood models. B.J.’s, however, was not Hollywood nor Los Vegas, and I never did see anything appealingly eye-catching. Instead, homely faces, chunky bodies, big feet, ungraceful movements, and lip-syncing tended to betray any efforts to look truly attractive.
Drag-Queens
I recall one individual who, from time to time, would come stomping through the restaurant section in a most ungraceful manner, carrying high-heels, on his way to the dressing area. That poor person’s face looked as though he once had suffered a bad case of acne. Between those pockmarks and his usual grumpy scowl, I might have surmised that this sad person once had worked at McDonald’s and possibly had a compulsion to bob for fries.

I suppose that it is inevitable that, wherever there are drag-queens, there is a certain percentage of them who become titillated with the idea of toying with female hormones. For some time now, I have understood the theory of clinical transgender orientation, and I intellectually can handle that concept. These are the people who seriously think of themselves as the opposite gender, and their transition is carried out, over time, carefully and seriously, with the assistance and advice of professional doctors and therapists.

However, as naïve as I usually am and until recent years, I was totally unaware of the fact that, throughout the world, there is an amazingly large number of young guys whose compulsion is to take massive doses of female hormone, permanently changing their bodies but with no intention of surgically fully transitioning to female. They rashly do this with black-market hormones and without the supervision of professional therapists. Instead, they turn themselves into, what is crudely called, “shemales,” neither male nor female, but individuals with male genitalia and, in addition, breasts, wide hips, and large buttocks. These are the hybrid individuals who Robin Williams jokingly referred to as “The Swiss Army Knife of Sex.”

Finally made aware of this phenomenon, I have tried to intellectually handle well this phenomenon of hybrid gender, but I have a hard time handling it emotionally. What disturbs me most is that many of these individuals start out as very good looking young males; yet their masculinity is destroyed forever. To my personal way of thinking, that is a waste.

She Male


I also understand that such unpredictable use of hormones may not always turn out well. There was one tall, good-looking guy who decided to secretly take hormones. He told me that he always was afraid that his family might find out. Oddly enough, his day-job was as a tow-truck driver. He hid from his coworkers what he was doing by wearing heavy, loose clothes. Then he would change into women’s clothing and go to B.J.’s. Later, after he had developed breasts, I overheard him lament that he was sorry that he had taken those hormones because now he no longer could take his clothes off and go swimming.

More bizarrely, I saw one evening a short, previously normally built teenager, who had been named “Miss Teen Queen,” who, from taking hormones, quickly put on a vast amount of weight and ended up with huge, bulging belly, drooping breasts, and bizarrely wide hips. I found that sight very disturbing. I was very puzzled as to why that boy had such a irresistible compulsion to so dramatically change his body. Did he imagine the results being different?

Then, a skinny, drag-queen waiter told me that he once had considered taking hormones until he saw what happened to one of his friends who had succumbed to that compulsion. His friend took lots of black-market hormones and then (in the waiter’s own words) “really freaked out and totally lost it” when he saw how dramatically his body had changed and also realized that those changes were permanent, especially the expanded bone-structure of his hips. Just the idea of his doing that to himself freaks me out, especially since the friend obviously never thoroughly thought through what he was doing or sought advice from any therapists.

I guess that the “trains-on-the-brains” guy’s compulsion to continually buy model trains, train artifacts and clothes, especially since he has the money to do so, is pretty mild in contrast to the kid who totally freaked out. At least, compulsive train-guy can trade or sell-off his trains if he wants to. And as for me, I can fairly safely continue my obsession with classical music by spending an inordinate amount of time playing and listening to good music. The freaked-out kid, however, will have to live a long time with the all-too obvious consequences of his compulsion.

© 06 October 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.

Posted on

Purple, by Will Stanton

How much can one say about purple? The person who chose this topic told me that he had something quite special in mind. I don’t. So, I guess I will have to settle with simply commenting upon a few situations involving the color purple which I have observed over the years.

To start off with, I’ll be blunt and succinct about this first example just to get it out of the way.
Unfortunately (and I will not dwell on these points, either), purple often can be an indication of some serious medical crisis. I recall seeing a very elderly, fragile man whose lips were a scary dark purple, almost black. Of course, we all are familiar with the ominous purple lesions too often seen on people of our generation, Kaposi’s sarcoma, the infection with human herpesvirus that often has been associated with AIDS. And, if you permit me to quickly mention it, I never will erase from my memory seeing the faint streaks of purple as I watched my partner die from lung-cancer. Enough of that, however.
Moving on, some people claim that certain ethnic cultures prefer various colors. I recall early in my education, I worked one summer for an architect, my entertaining the idea that I might choose architecture as a profession. The firm, at that time, was drawing up plans for some low-income housing, most of the residents predicted to be blacks. One architect stated that a major color theme for the interior would be the color purple “because blacks like the color purple.” His comment struck me as an over-generalization, although I do recall seeing groups of blacks elegantly dressed in their Sunday finest at Black Eyed Pea. Often, their suit-coats and fancy dresses were in various shades of purple.
The school color for South High School is purple, a color most prominently displayed on football outfits. Unlike the 1950s or 60s, I never see, these days, students wearing school jackets or shirts sporting the color purple. I have seen some girls, however, with purple hair. 
I also know someone who claims the color of his vehicle, known as a “Cube,” is burgundy, although it looks more like a dark purple to me. I have to look carefully in the sunlight to conclude that, however.
Here, I have another opportunity to use one of my favorite phrases, “bloviating ignoramus.” I had no desire ever to watch Rush Limbaugh on TV, although I occasionally have stumbled upon some clips on the news. I recall seeing Rush so fired up and blustering with some false accusation he wished to spread about someone whom he hates that, I swear, his face seemed to be turning purple. Somehow, he appears to have avoided a heart attack or stroke.
I have witnessed that purple-faced phenomenon first-hand, too, with a local intellectual-Neanderthal whom I refer to as “Neanderthal-Joe.” Back in the early days of the Bush junta and the U.S. invasion of Iraq, I casually mentioned to Joe that I was disappointed with Bush. Joe stood up, starting screaming at me, stomping around the room, slathering at the lips. He retorted that “Bush is doing God’s work!” His face literally was turning purple.
That happened also with a mutual acquaintance and good friend of Joe, a man who quickly had become a millionaire working for the sleaziest mortgage-banking company in America. When the Colorado Supreme Court declared Amendment 2, which in effect denied civil rights to gays, was unconstitutional, this man was infuriated, stating to me that, “Nine unelected men in black robes denied the will of the people.” I “pushed his button” by replying, “When I was in grade school, we were taught that America is a constitutional democracy.” At that, he exploded, sputtering and shouting. His face was a slightly different shade of purple from Joe’s.
Last of all, and on a more positive side, there also are some purple things that give me great pleasure. I have enjoyed seeing nature’s paintbrush at work with purple flowers, sunsets, Purple Martin birds, and bushes of wild berries, so dark that they look almost black. And, who can resist a heaping helping of homemade berry cobbler? Now, there’s something purple that is enjoyable to think about.

© 8 January 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.

Posted on

Where Do We Go from Here? by Will Stanton

Where do we go from here? It beats the hell out of me. I will, however, give you a few personal thoughts that come to mind. These reflect my own nature and values.

It’s hard for me to surmise the fate of our future. There are some good people and positive events in our country and the world that, theoretically, could lead us to a better future; however, there also is so much negativity and violence that I am not particularly encouraged. Yes, I realize that such concerns are not unique to our times. I am very aware that history is replete with hate, violence, and stupidity. I would think, or at least hope, however, that humankind would steadily improve over the centuries. A selective minority of people may have advanced, yet it appears to me that the vast majority of people still are prone to the same insanity that has plagued mankind forever. This fact mystifies and discourages me; for, by nature, I cherish honesty and empathy, along with my wish for all people to engage in helpful, constructive behavior.

Too often, those few people who are more knowledgeable, who are positive and empathetic, are vilified and overwhelmed by the masses of reptilian-minded hordes whose inclinations lead to greed, mindless policies, and harm to people and nations. Had President Gore been permitted to serve his two terms in office, I can only imagine how different our country and the world would be today. Instead, the Neocons in the Bush junta lied us into an unwarranted war that so severely disrupted the Middle East that we now are suffering the horrendous consequences of their hubris and stupidity. Such people continue to promote harmful domestic policies and political machinations that are equally counterproductive.

And now, we are plagued with a slate of Republican Presidential candidates who display many of the same religiosity traits that got us into so much trouble in the first place. Their continual character assassinations and bellicose rhetoric offend my deeply ingrained sense of honesty, morality, and empathy. Listening to all those (and here’s a phrase I frequently am prone to use because I have ample opportunity now) bloviating ignoramuses on the debate stage nauseates me. I find watching them disturbing and toxic, so much so that I feel that I do not possess the endurance and resilience to listen to them for extended lengths of time.

The only rational solution that I have heard recently has been from candidate Bernie Sanders. He repeatedly has explained, and quite rightly, too, that he sees the only way of improving our situation is for our young to become very knowledgeable, active, and to organize and vote in great numbers. To some extent, this was done for the first election of President Obama. Since then, however, young people seem to have drifted off into their own little worlds.

I know of no other recourse. If nothing is done to reverse this descent into an abyss of banality and chaos, I guess that I will have to find some way of moving to Shangri-La, perhaps Lyonesse, or the Elysian Fields.

© 18 December 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.

Posted on

My Favorite Water Sport, by Will Stanton

I suppose I could regard this
topic of “My Favorite Water Sport” to be rather presumptuous. It assumes that I
engage in a variety of water sports, let alone doing any at all – – which I
don’t.  I never have.
I do, however, swim
frequently; and I have done that most of my life.  Of course for me, that’s not a sport.  Swimming would fall under the athletic
heading of “physical education and recreation,” that is, I do it for exercise
and health.  Ergo, “re-creation.”
My parents taught me very
young to swim, probably starting around two or three.  We would go frequently to the university
swimming pool.  I never have enjoyed
being exposed to chlorine, but the indoor pool had the advantage of being open
during inclement and cold weather.
I actually signed up for, and
completed, a life-guard class so that I could get a job at the city pool during
the summer.  The teacher, however, after
the class was completed, refused to give me my certificate because she said
that, at age fifteen, I was too young.  I
had to be sixteen.  Thanks a lot!  Why didn’t she tell me that at the start?
By the time I was twenty, I
had developed sufficient breath capacity that I could swim 2 ¼ lengths of the
pool under water in one breath.  Now that
I am superannuated, I don’t even put my face under.
During summers, my brother and
I used to go to the city pool.  That was
the setting for my first sexual dream, “seeing” a girl swimming under water,
nude.  I wasn’t all that fond of the city
pool.  It was situated near the junk yard
next to the river, which occasionally flooded the whole area including the
pool.  My knowing what was in that
flood-water did not thrill me very much. 
And, that flooding didn’t even have anything to do with the “Baby Ruth”
that I saw floating there one day.
During some summers, I swam in
a variety of lakes.  There were two
man-made lakes nearby.  Also, my family
and I did some camping near lakes, and we invariably swam.  I recall one called “Crystal Lake,“ and it
certainly was.  The lake had a pure
white, sandy bottom with nothing growing and with no fish.  I could look straight down to the
bottom.  I also attended several summer
camps, and, of course, they always were situated adjacent to lakes.
On several occasions, I swam
in the ocean.  I did not care for the
salt and the waves and, sometimes, cold, especially on the North-Atlantic
coast.  I especially was wary of the
Portuguese men-of-war floating about or on the beach in Florida.
 At least, I did not suffer the fate of the
scuba-diver off the lighthouse point who was pulled under and killed by a giant
squid.  Those who recovered his body
claimed that, from the size of the sucker marks on him, that the squid may have
been sixty feet long.  That sounds rather
extreme, but recent explorations have filmed squid bigger than that. That could
not have been a very enjoyable way to go.
I still swim several days per
week at the pool here in the city.  That
assumes, of course, that it is not shut down again for maintenance.  As I said before, I now am superannuated; therefore,
I choose to attend the “seniors swim hour,” which I refer to as “the old farts’
swim.” 
 

Elderly Man Swimming
During summers when they have
had youth swimming classes just before ours, and the boys in the locker room
see us shambling wrecks of dissipated humanity, I wonder what they think.  Or perhaps, they, being so young, cannot
relate to us.  Perhaps they regard us as
non-human aliens.       
Young Swimmer
© 22 Oct 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.
Posted on

Compulsion, by Will Stanton


I suppose that it is human
nature for many of us to succumb to compulsive behavior.  If we attempted to list every possible form
of compulsion, we would be here all day.

Eating certainly is one of the
most prevalent compulsions, especially in America.  I once was invited by a 400-pound man to join
him and a few others for dim-sung dinner.  I tried to avert my eyes while he ravenously
ate multiple courses, along with everything left over from other diners at the
table.  I will never subject myself to
that kind of disturbing experience again. 
America is so notorious for overeating that someone posted on-line a
photo-shopped image of Michelangelo’s “David” supposedly after visiting here
and eating too much American food.
 

Chunky David
I fell pray to overeating for
a few years, all because of chronic stress. 
My partner died.  He also was my
business partner, and I tried to do both jobs. 
Further, in our profession, we were required to deal with many people’s
ongoing problems, which was hard enough. 
I also had to be concerned with professional clinical and legal
liability.  Worse, most competing clinics
were thoroughly corrupt, making tons of money, and stealing away most of my
clients.  Big stress.
For a while, a little place
close by, B.J.’s Carousel, became the antidote to my own stress.  I must have driven by B.J.’s 10,000 times
before someone told me that there was a little restaurant in the back that
served solid American-style food at reasonable prices.  In addition, the regular patrons and staff
were exceptionally friendly and accommodating. 
Frequently, patrons chatted with each other from table to table,
fostering a warm, supportive atmosphere. 
The restaurant played soft, classical music, rather than the pounding
drums and screaming that most restaurants play now-days.  Also in the winter, they had a pot-bellied
stove in the middle of the room that made the area very cozy.  That’s where I would go to unwind.
Once my evening therapy groups
were gone, and I had discussed each person’s case with my contract
psychologist, and I had prepared the individual sessions notes for the clinical
files, I felt drained.  I would jump into
my car and race down to B.J.’s, which stayed open late, and order an excess of
comfort-food – – meat, potatoes, salad, veggies, and (of course) desert.  This went on for a few years, and I must have
been oblivious to the consequence until it became more obvious.  Fortunately, I rarely eat that way now.  The fact that B.J.’s since has shut down
probably removed a pit-fall from my path.
Over those many evening
dinners and Sunday brunches that I had at B.J.’s, I got to know one of the
other regular patrons.  It turns out that
this person had a life-long obsession with trains  – – – real trains, model trains, train videos
and DVDs, train paintings, train artifacts and clothes.  He even chose what cities in which to work so
that he could be around trains.  His
compulsion to continually buy train stuff resulted in his living in a house
crammed so full that one would need a front-loader to clear it out.  His having a lot of discretionary income in
retirement, he could  afford to buy a
state-of-the-art Lionel “Big Boy” steam locomotive that lists for $3,000.
Lionel O-gauge model “Big Boy” steam locomotive
I later found out that the
front of B.J.’s was a bar that was known as the place where drag-queens could
go and to be in occasional drag-shows. 
Although popular with some people, I never have had the slightest interest
in that phenomenon and don’t quite understand the compulsion to dress-up like
that.  But, I could not escape noticing
them on show-nights when some of them would wander through the back
restaurant.  I truly admire natural
beauty, but I can’t say that any of those individuals fit into that
category.  I sense that most of them
realize that they never will look like ravishing, natural beauties, and some
probably dress up with some sense of satire. 
There may be those occasional individuals who do try to look like
Hollywood models.  B.J.’s, however, was
not Hollywood nor Los Vegas, and I never did see anything appealingly
eye-catching.  Instead, homely faces,
chunky bodies, big feet, ungraceful movements, and lip-syncing tended to betray
any efforts to look truly attractive.
Two-drag-queens
I recall one individual who,
from time to time, would come stomping through the restaurant section in a most
ungraceful manner, carrying high-heels, on his way to the dressing area.  That poor person’s face looked as though he once
had suffered a bad case of acne.  Between
those pockmarks and his usual grumpy scowl, I might have surmised that this sad
person once had worked at McDonald’s and possibly had a compulsion to bob for
fries.
I suppose that it is
inevitable that, wherever there are drag-queens, there is a certain percentage
of them who become titillated with the idea of toying with female
hormones.  For some time now, I have
understood the theory of clinical transgender orientation, and I intellectually
can handle that concept.  These are the
people who seriously think of themselves as the opposite gender, and their
transition is carried out, over time, carefully and seriously, with the
assistance and advice of professional doctors and therapists.
However, as naïve as I usually
am and until recent years, I was totally unaware of the fact that, throughout
the world, there is an amazingly large number of young guys whose compulsion is
to take massive doses of female hormone, permanently changing their bodies but
with no intention of surgically fully transitioning to female.  They rashly do this with black-market
hormones and without the supervision of professional therapists.  Instead, they turn themselves into, what is
crudely called, “shemales,” neither male nor female, but individuals with male
genitalia and, in addition, breasts, wide hips, and large buttocks.  These are the hybrid individuals who Robin
Williams jokingly referred to as “The Swiss Army Knife of Sex.”
Finally made aware of this
phenomenon, I have tried to intellectually handle well this phenomenon of
hybrid gender, but I have a hard time handling it emotionally.  What disturbs me most is that many of these
individuals start out as very good looking young males; yet their masculinity
is destroyed forever.  To my personal way
of thinking, that is a waste.        
Shemale
I also understand that such
unpredictable use of hormones may not always turn out well.  There was one tall, good-looking guy who
decided to secretly take hormones.  He
told me that he always was afraid that his family might find out.  Oddly enough, his day-job was as a tow-truck
driver.  He hid from his coworkers what
he was doing by wearing heavy, loose clothes. 
Then he would change into women’s clothing and go to B.J.’s.  Later, after he had developed breasts, I
overheard him lament that he was sorry that he had taken those hormones because
now he no longer could take his clothes off and go swimming.
More bizarrely, I saw one
evening a short, previously normally built teenager, who had been named  “Miss Teen Queen,” who, from taking hormones,
quickly put on a vast amount of weight and ended up with huge, bulging belly,
drooping breasts, and bizarrely wide hips. 
I found that sight very disturbing. 
I was very puzzled as to why that boy had such a irresistible   compulsion to so dramatically change his
body.  Did he imagine the results being
different?
Then, a skinny, drag-queen
waiter told me that he once had considered taking hormones until he saw what
happened to one of his friends who had succumbed to that compulsion.  His friend took lots of black-market hormones
and then (in the waiter’s own words) “really freaked out and totally lost it”
when he saw how dramatically his body had changed and also realized that those
changes were permanent, especially the expanded bone-structure of his
hips.  Just the idea of his doing that to
himself freaks me out, especially since the friend obviously never
thoroughly thought through what he was doing or sought advice from any
therapists.
I guess that the
“trains-on-the-brains” guy’s compulsion to continually buy model trains, train
artifacts and clothes, especially since he has the money to do so, is pretty
mild in contrast to the kid who totally freaked out.  At least, compulsive train-guy can trade or
sell-off his trains if he wants to.  And
as for me, I can fairly safely continue my obsession with classical music by
spending an inordinate amount of time playing and listening to good music.  The freaked-out kid, however, will have to live
a long time with the all-too obvious consequences of his compulsion.
© 6 October 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.
Posted on

What I Did for Love, by Will Stanton

It often has been said that love is the most powerful force in the world. I feel that this belief might have some merit, although it’s hard for me to say. Perhaps I have had too little experience with love to know for sure. I have had brief moments in my life that felt like love, sometimes even somewhat prolonged feelings. I am very thankful for those moments and cherish their memory. In retrospect, however, thinking over my life, it feels as though I had very little love growing up and only moments of it since. Fate conspired against it.

That is why I procrastinated writing this short piece, even though I already had completed, way in advance, all the other subjects on our topic-list. I sensed that this would not be a particularly easy nor happy piece for me to write.

I seem to remember from childhood, rather than familial support and love, more prolonged feelings of tension, anxiety, confusion, dread, even draining of my spirit. It was only later when I learned more about psychology that I realized that my family was what is called a “looking good family,” that is, one that appears from the outside to be stable and normal; however, within, the family is dysfunctional. No, I do not recall much in the way of love in those years.

I had a partner for a while. I know that I was loved. The last years, however, turned out to be very stressful, for he suffered six years with lung and brain cancer. I took care of him the whole time. I know that he continued to love me, but the shadow of death took away much of the joy.

Since then, I have had a few really good, close friends. We care for each other. Yet, I have my own issues now to deal with, and those now predominate my thinking and feelings. Such concerns make it hard to for me at this time to love myself sufficiently enough to reach out and to love another.

During hardship and stress, I have turned to an antidote that is not practical, but does take my mind away from my sadness. In all likelihood, friends would advise me to dispense with this unproductive antidote; but, over time, it became a habit. At times, my mind is drawn back into its imaginings of being totally healthy, being the type of person who is capable of truly accepting and loving himself, and, therefore, has found love with another imagined companion of like kind. I have a creative, vivid imagination; therefore, I can construct scenarios that are superlatively idyllic. They are made of enduring beauty and love.

No, those imaginings are not the real thing; and, assuredly, they take away from my time and energy that, otherwise, could be spent reaching out to worthwhile people who might extend love in a realistic way. Yet, I am set in my ways. Without better health and greater spirit, I suppose that I shall remain as I am—and dream.

Painting by Maxfield Parrish

© 16 November 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.