It's another glorious morning. The alarm clock awakens me and I do my usual things: read ( part of ) The New York Times over coffee and half a bagel, take my morning doses of aspirin, vitamin E, and blood pressure pill, take a shower and smoke too many cigarettes. Life, inexorably, goes on. Mom is still lingering ( albeit hardly ) and clinging to life at a very advanced age. I get ready for work after my shower and shave, pausing for a while to write this column, and am ready for the day.
Things haven't changed that much in the years since G died, but they have changed more than I can describe. My actions and movements are about the same, but my feelings are different. I am still the responsible person I have always been ( is it from a good upbringing, I sometimes wonder, or a bad one ) . I work every day. I contribute to charities. I listen to music. I ( try to ) read, although Mom's illness has taken up most of my free time, I socialize a little bit. Except for some accidents of background, I am everyman, albeit a gay one.
It's strange how little different I feel from straight people. I have no children, that certainly sets me apart, but most other things seem the same. I work and struggle to make a living, and to make my life as comfortable and meaningful as I can. My pets and lover die, my parents die or are dying ( as will I, as well ) , and I feel the same joy and happiness at good fortune, as does everyone. How does it happen that just because I am romantically, physically and sexually attracted to those of my same gender set me so much apart in the world at large, I wonder. It seems to me, to be such a trivial difference, yet it is a difference that is most important to me, and one about which I feel strongly and assertively. I will not accept the opinions of those who say that there is anything wrong with me, because there isn't.
Many years ago, when I told my parents I was gay, they said they didn't want to hear anything more about it. I never mentioned another word to them, nor to any of my family. Last night I told a cousin, in Philadelphia, the truth, and she said ( ho hum! ) , "that's what we figured." When I told her about the loss of G after a 33-year relationship, she expressed her concern and sympathy. Obviously, my sexual orientation made no difference. It should make no difference to anyone.
Apparently, it makes a difference to George W. Bush, who now seems to feel "better" after having had a meeting with some hand-picked gay Republicans from the Log Cabin group. His position hardly seems to have changed, however. It still seems to make a big difference to him. Poor man! It seems a pity that he cuts himself off from 6% to 10% of humanity. Nevertheless, he has his free will, but so do I. He can think what he wants, no matter how misguided, but I wouldn't want him to be my "leader."
What I want is for everyone to think for himself, and to allow others to think for themselves, as well. It's not my business to tell others with whom they make love, to have children, or not, etc. It's not an other's business to tell me those things, either.
I ama simple man. When I get cut, I bleed. When I am hurt, I cry. When I am a witness to genius, I am appreciative. When I am a witness to pain and suffering, I feel sorrow. I feel joy and anguish. I feel happiness and sadness. I am just like everyone else, with one exception. Everyone has at least one exception. We are all the same, we are all a little different. I celebrate our sameness, I revel in our differences. There is so much for me to learn from others. My education never stops. Thank heavens for that.