You have a gay uncle. I had one too.
Dear Toby,
You have a gay uncle. I had one too, you met once or twice, your grandfather’s brother, Donny. I always knew he was gay, and so did my parents, but it was something that no one ever talked about. Before Stonewall no one talked about gay life in middle class society. Of course everyone knew that there were gay people out there, even relatives. It was just expected that you’d keep your mouth shut and not bring disgrace on the family.
And that dynamic set up a very difficult barrier set up to being honest about most everything. I am not by nature a liar. Every time I opened my mouth I got myself in trouble.
I am going to talk about a wide range of things. I will of course refer to specific people, times and places. I may not always recall all the facts exactly as they occurred. I am almost 80, and some details play the tricks that memory is prone to. Sometimes as with storytelling, I write for effect and, though I don’t want to play too loose with the facts, and I certainly don’t intend to hurt anyone, I apologize up front for my mistakes. Sometimes the stories tell themselves, and I would certainly prefer that they follow their own narrative. But they are part of my life, so I have made them mean something.
I will talk about a number of people whom you know, like your mother. Others, like your grandfather and mother, Nanna and Bif you may not recognize. My experience is only my experience.
Robert Aitken, my Zen teacher. once said to me that the participants in making history don’t do it to make history. Most don’t even know that they are part of history. They are just living their lives as best they can. Bob had the bad luck to have been captured on Guam December 8th, 1941 by the invading Japanese army. For the next 31 months he was a prisoner of war. He heard only rumors and propaganda about the war’s progress, the battles, defeats and victories that would shape his world for the rest of his life. He would have to learn the details of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki as a history lesson. He would start the Buddhist Peace Fellowship and become a fierce advocate of resistance to all military spending, but his immediate experience of the end of war was the appearance of American soldiers liberating the camp.
I am just one gay man who witnessed some very important events in the last 50 plus years: Stonewall, Harvey Milk’s career and assassination, the HIV/AIDS epidemic, the scourge of drugs in the our community, the “spiritual awakening,” its pluses and minuses, the migration into major urban areas” and the creation of “gay ghettoes,” gay marriage, and our families.
I do not claim any level of authority about any of these subjects, just the fact that I was present for the public ones and tried to respond to them all with as much openness, curiosity, humanity, and courage that I could muster. My response was far from perfect, but I am trying to be as honest as I can, including where it fell short. I have assembled a group of readers who will, I hope, keep me honest and curb any tendencies to get grandiose or preachy.
You have a gay uncle. I had one too, you met once or twice, your grandfather’s brother, Donny. I always knew he was gay, and so did my parents, but it was something that no one ever talked about. Before Stonewall no one talked about gay life in middle class society. Of course everyone knew that there were gay people out there, even relatives. It was just expected that you’d keep your mouth shut and not bring disgrace on the family.
And that dynamic set up a very difficult barrier set up to being honest about most everything. I am not by nature a liar. Every time I opened my mouth I got myself in trouble.
I am going to talk about a wide range of things. I will of course refer to specific people, times and places. I may not always recall all the facts exactly as they occurred. I am almost 80, and some details play the tricks that memory is prone to. Sometimes as with storytelling, I write for effect and, though I don’t want to play too loose with the facts, and I certainly don’t intend to hurt anyone, I apologize up front for my mistakes. Sometimes the stories tell themselves, and I would certainly prefer that they follow their own narrative. But they are part of my life, so I have made them mean something.
I will talk about a number of people whom you know, like your mother. Others, like your grandfather and mother, Nanna and Bif you may not recognize. My experience is only my experience.
Robert Aitken, my Zen teacher. once said to me that the participants in making history don’t do it to make history. Most don’t even know that they are part of history. They are just living their lives as best they can. Bob had the bad luck to have been captured on Guam December 8th, 1941 by the invading Japanese army. For the next 31 months he was a prisoner of war. He heard only rumors and propaganda about the war’s progress, the battles, defeats and victories that would shape his world for the rest of his life. He would have to learn the details of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki as a history lesson. He would start the Buddhist Peace Fellowship and become a fierce advocate of resistance to all military spending, but his immediate experience of the end of war was the appearance of American soldiers liberating the camp.
I am just one gay man who witnessed some very important events in the last 50 plus years: Stonewall, Harvey Milk’s career and assassination, the HIV/AIDS epidemic, the scourge of drugs in the our community, the “spiritual awakening,” its pluses and minuses, the migration into major urban areas” and the creation of “gay ghettoes,” gay marriage, and our families.
I do not claim any level of authority about any of these subjects, just the fact that I was present for the public ones and tried to respond to them all with as much openness, curiosity, humanity, and courage that I could muster. My response was far from perfect, but I am trying to be as honest as I can, including where it fell short. I have assembled a group of readers who will, I hope, keep me honest and curb any tendencies to get grandiose or preachy.
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