Coming of Age, or, Growing up Straight.

Here's a tale of growing up. A little background first about atmosphere of my family. My father had many friends (can't remember a black one, though). He was a sales engineer in an international firm and although limited to the east coast including New York and Washington, D.C. mixed with people from all over the world. His friends were Catholics, Jews, and Protestants of all stripes. Closer friends were from all over Europe pre- and post WWII. He had a nasty epithet for everyone. Even States were not exempt ( Damn New Jersey driver!!!).

He and my mother were particularly worried that their boys would be accosted by a man (undefined by them to me) and hurt (also undefined but they meant pedophile which to them included all gay men as well. Consider the times - 1940s). So into this atmosphere of verbal intolerance fear and no boundaries what-so-ever within their social or work groups I was born and raised. Jews were kikes, except for our neighbors. Italians were guineas or sheenies, except for our neighbors. You get the point. So I grew up with a clear dichotomy played out.
Homosexuals were never even mentioned except in the abstract and then lumped with pedophiles.
I grew up wary of "those kind of men" that would "pick you up" (don't get into a car with a man, don't go into a strangers house alone etc). When I had my first inseparable friend, John, my mother worried that were too close. Yet, in my school I had friends that were gay (I didn't know it) and at least one gay teacher (we all knew) who was a great guy. I had failed girlfriend relationships (my mother worried) but lots of male friends (my mother worried). So, off to college.
In Miami there was a place called Bay Front Park where the queers cruised. There were queer bars and queer hangouts. By then I knew ( I thought) what queers did. I had friends who went to the park and rolled older weaker queers. I never went with them, but never really objected either. To this day I feel ashamed of that.
One time in 1960 or so a guy approached me outside of a diner that I lived in, showed me a strip of paper with a ruler printed on it and "peter meter" printed on it as well. He asked me if I wanted to see how it worked. I said no and he went away. Life threatening brush with queerdom. My sexuality had solidified by then to raging hetero, and my mother worried because the girls were cheap. No pleasing some mothers.
I had a friend in graduate school, 1963, who trusted me enough to come out to me. In a rush one night in the lab the said "I'm a homosexual. I hope this doesn't change our friendship". I will never forget my wise and insightful response. It haunts me to this day. "I'm OK with that as long as you don't try anything with me", I said. Surprise.He never mentioned it again. We stayed friends.
By this time I also heard of girl queers, but thought that a good stiffie would "cure" them (that's what all my friends thought, all us male assholes). Just a lack of the good old rod. Show'em the way and they will love it and you for ever. Only problem is I never knew if I knew one. I never knew anyone who had "cured" one, but I knew lots of guys that loved the girl-on-girl porno films (8mm in those days).
Fast forward through the 60s (I was there but AWOL on the free love and drug scene). I got a good leadership job in academia and lo and behold, our librarian (in his 50's) was a homo. Great guy, lived with his "brother". We were social friends, close at times, and never once talked about his sexuality (or mine for that matter). He left both the job and his brother and went off with a young blond man on some long journey. I was disgusted to think what they were doing all day in that sailboat. Then epiphany: what ever it was, it was a small part of who he was and didn't change all that I loved about him. So, says I to me, just get over it. I did. Then and there.
Then the 80s hit with a vengeance, and gays were dying of unknown causes. "Gods will" some of my students chanted. For what I asked? For loving someone? For being different? I knew what they meant, and the sadness of this tale is that they are still around and still saying the same thing. Then straights began to fall, AIDS was named and HIV was identified as the culprit.
By now I had gay and lesbian friends and students who were mostly not out but were with me.
I got angry when someone proposed that we have a Baptist Student Union because I don't like exclusivity of any kind, and proposed to sponsor a GLBT student union. I was told the day I did that I would be fired on the spot. So much for ya'll come liberal arts education. "Ya'll come, but some of you stay safely in the closet" was more like it.
So I sponsored the "SafeZone" initiative on campus and quietly pursued organizing the GLBT (we didn't have any T's yet) and became the sponsor. Didn't get fired. But the GLBT students were mostly not interested in a public group, and the organizing student died of a brain tumor, so the nascent organization fizzled.
During this time I made many friends, some of them straight and a goodly number not.
Then my son came out. No surprise there. He told us he was seeing someone. I told him straight up that his love would be unwelcome in my house if he was a - - - - - - - - republican. (he wasn't' but still would have been welcome to our log cabin of sorts).
Matt and John are now married (God bless Iowa) and we love them both. And they love each other. And who cares what they do in bed? I don't.

A long journey from a home built on love but infused with intolerance. My early days with homosexuality were low points for me in terms of tolerance. I was what I learned. But I like to think that as I grew up I grew out of all that and finally arrived at the man I am today. Many shameful moments darkened my early days. I am so glad that those days are over and long behind me. It is often said that you can never go back. Who the hell would want to?

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