The One Moment

            For my first Throwback Thursday I thought I’d take all of you braving the artic chill of winter back to a bliss-filled moment in the warm sun and water of summer.  Hang in there spring is around the corner.

           Sometimes we question if it's worth all the effort to escape for a few days with all the balls in life to juggle and everything that must be done.  Last August brought me such hoops to jump through for an unknown experience.  But that to me is adventure; and he is such a seductive paramour.

           So what is the one moment you ask?  Well it would defeat the purpose of why the one moment was worth everything that came before it…without knowing everything that came before it.  So here goes.

            In the airline industry seniority is everything.  However, where you’re based determines the type of work trips you have to choose from.  One of the most desired trips to work are the flights to Cancun with 2 and 3-day layovers…at a J.W. Marriott…on the beach.  But they have always remained a unicorn to NYC crews.

            But when a fellow co-worker based in Los Angeles came riding on my plane one day last June and the subject of Cancun arose she offered to pick one up then pass it to me.  It was worth a shot. 

            Once our schedules were released, she contacted me and said she was awarded the trip I requested.  But I had another trip assigned to me over the same days and would have to get rid of it before I could pick hers up--and that is not always easy.  It created another hurdle that caused me to think twice whether it was worth it.

            But when I found out one of my favorite co-workers—sweet, laughter filled Fay, a beautiful southern lady—was on the trip my heart gave a clear sign to trust that everything would work out; to believe that I would be on the jump seat next to her, as it evolved into the Cancun and Fay Dream.  

            My options were limited with what I had to work with to make it happen.  Swapping with a trip that dropped my hours below the company’s monthly requirement, then add an extra trip to make it up.  It was a perfect storm of conditions that all had to come together to work.

            But it was Cancun…for 2 days and 2 nights…free hotel on the beach.  For all the delays, diverted flights, and difficult guests, this was one perk of the job I felt long overdue for.  The ‘glamorous’ part of the job the public believes is the norm, which it’s not.  

            Plus Fay and Jay would be together again.  We could make up and sing our Fay and Jay songs as we once did when we flew together often.  We’d use everything that rhymes with Fay and Jay—which we’ve found is quite a bit.  It was like Cancun now singing to us,

Hey! Hey/Fay and Jay/Come stay/Come play/I’ll give you sun all day/What do you say?/Come play!/Fay and Jay!.

            So I focused on it and it worked.  We were going to Cancun.  Then I began to imagine the dream growing bigger by bringing Derek along.  He was long overdue to use his perk for sharing me with an industry that took us away from each other.  Although that meant him having to fly stand-by, which is stress defined, we felt his chances were good.  We a became positive trinity for each other, confident our hearts were leading us to Cancun for a special time as the Derek, Fay, and Jay Cancun dream blossomed.

            I arrived at Fay’s apartment in LA the day before our Cancun trip.  I was weary without much quality sleep after working a LA-NYC red-eye then riding right back to LA.  But Fay helped re-fuel me with the idea of swimming with dolphins.  She had a coupon and a contact at a company offering dolphin excursions on an island off the coast of Cancun.  With the coupon the deal worked out to three for the price of two. 

            It was still expensive (Suze Orman would have denied me) and double for me because it was my 5-year anniversary gift to Derek, which was later in the month.  The traditional gift, wood, and the modern, silverware, seemed boring.  Besides in gay years five is like twenty.  We needed something exciting.  We needed a dolphin! 

            We woke early the next morning for the airport.  I called Derek, as he prepared to leave for JFK and told him my sources said he should have a seat.  Fingers crossed. 

            Before I knew it Fay and I were making sure custom forms were handed out and landing in Mexico.  I was welcomed with the sound of a text coming in with Derek’s news, and smiled when I read he made it.  He was outside the terminal building drinking margaritas. 

            All the juggling, planning, hoping, finger and toe crossing to arrive, and we all made it.  After checking into the opulent hotel we refreshed and walked down to the beach with a drink to toast to Cancun.  The clouds, sky, water, and sand provided an array of pastel colors that gradually darkened as the sun set behind us.  But no, that was not The One Moment. 

            We hopped a crowded public bus and rode down through the modern tourists’ shopping area to the 'old' downtown and a quieter street where we found an authentic Mexican restaurant for some supper.  We stopped in a local food market on the way back to the hotel for some groceries. 

            As we all I wandered around taking in a Mexican grocery store I noticed a sexy local man giving me long glances whenever our paths crossed.  When we were in line, I looked up and he was right behind us.  When Derek noticed him he whispered to me he was checking him out throughout the store.

           “Me too!” I exclaimed.

           “How confident of him to go fishing for two,” Derek replied. 

           “Well we’re both new meat in town.”

           “But we already have a third for our Cancun threesome with a slippery and wet lover tomorrow.  We need our rest.”

           “Very sensible,” I replied as we laughed.  We returned to our hotel for a restful sleep to energize us for meeting our dolphin.

            We met Fay’s contact at ten the next morning near the ferry to Isla Mujeres—where our dolphin awaited.  He helped us to the counter to make sure our coupon and discount were applied.  We were thrilled when he told us we made a mistake in what was communicated to us about the price.  It wasn’t 3 for the price of 2, but rather 3 for the price of 1!  Plus he would give us the pictures that they normally charged $50 each, for free!  Divided by 3, we each paid around $40 and saved hundreds!

            We boarded the ferry that provided beer and soda for the forty-minute ride to the island.  The sun was shining with 80-degree weather and a clear blue sky.  After we docked, we were walking to shore and noticed a group of employees in wet suits with ‘Trainer’ on the back having a meeting on another dock. 

            “Whoa!” Derek exclaimed.  “Did you see that?”

            “See what?” Fay and I replied. 

            “That trainer!  He’s gorgeous!  Tall, tanned Adonis.  I hope he’s our trainer,” he replied cheekily.  I turned to look but didn't notice who he was talking about as got further away.

            The two docks that stretched far into the ocean were connected by a third.  Inside the enclosed area was where the interaction with the dolphins in their natural environment would occur.

            Before we reached shore there was a sectioned off pen with a newborn dolphin and it’s mother.  The baby was five days old and the facility said they would not know whether it was male or female for a number of weeks. 

            It was an amazing sight to see such a new creature to this Earth swimming along side its mother like it had been around for years.  The baby seemed to burst with an electricity to be alive.  After oohing and ahhing we walked on shore.

            There was a large shaded area from a building containing many tables and chairs and a buffet that was part of the package.  On both sides of it were pools to swim in and relax in the lounge chairs and hammocks. 

            We had a few hours before our turn with the dolphins; we indulged in some food and sun while we waited, and made videos swimming underwater with Fay's Go-Pro.  Shortly before our turn, Derek and I sat in some chairs near the water and dock. 

            “Oh my God!” I exclaimed.  “Look at this guy walking down the dock toward us.  What a hunk!”

            “That’s the one I was talking about!” Derek excitedly replied.

            “I can see why!  There is not an ounce of fat, and those chiseled features and deeply dark tan!  He's like a Greek statue."

            “So straight though.”

            “Oh, so, so straight.”

            He walked by with his dark sunglasses on with a Terminator expression.

            “Let’s go cool off in the pool before the dolphin,” I said.

            “Cool off from the sun or him?”

            “Both.”   

            The three of us were a little bit late to the meeting spot for our dolphin swim.

By the time we found a life jacket and Crocs that fit all of the people in the next group had been assigned a trainer.  When we approached the man that had put people into groups he was a bit surprised there were leftovers.  

            Just then The Greek Statue came in to talk to the man.  And that’s when were matched up with the hunk.  At first I thought we would have him all to ourselves, but then another three people came later then us and joined the group.

            I looked at Derek, barely able to contain my excited squeal.  He sent a slight smile, his eyes lit up.  The Greek Statue spoke to come with him.  Before he turned to walk, Derek stuck his hand out.

            “Nice to meet you, I’m Derek.”  The Statue stuck out his hand.

            “Hercules," he replied.

            Hercules! I thought.  It couldn’t have been a more appropriate name.  Derek looked back at me.

            “Can you believe his name is Hercules?" I whispered under my breath, trying to hold in my glee. 

            We were given some instruction once we reached the dock before descending the staircase onto the metal platform that was four feet under the water.  We walked down the platform past another group that had begun their experience.  The water was warm, not giving one chill, but was still refreshing from the sun.  Once in our area Hercules called over our dolphin and soon a beautiful creature popped his head up from the water and was within arms reach. 

            “This is Simba,” Hercules said. 

            He had Simba swim past each of us several times right side up and upside down so we could touch him and get a sense of being in the water with such a magnificent creature.  As he did, Hercules relayed facts about dolphins from their habits to their physiology. 

            It was all very interesting, like the fact that a dolphins sonar could tell if a woman was pregnant, but I was concentrating on the thrill that every 30 seconds a dolphin was swimming past me.  I wanted to obtain a sense of Simba, not just his species.  He felt so happy, and his presence made me happy. 

            But Hercules had shared that Simba was getting over a broken heart because the female he liked had chosen another dolphin.  I could tell Hercules and Simba had a special bromance; Hercules had been protective of Simba's heart and made sure he was all right.  

            My heart went out to Simba when I heard this and I just wanted to give him some love, because in the few minutes he had already given me so much of an experience.  But I felt Simba found healing in interacting and being around humans who were elated to be near him.  

            After learning several commands, the six of us did each one as our next interaction with Simba.  We gave the command for him to touch our raised hand with his nose, lay in our arms, grab both of his flippers, and get a kiss.  All for the cameraman shooting us from the dock. 

            Afterward Hercules instructed us to swim out into the water, two at a time, on opposite sides of each other.  For the next trick, I had a kickboard and as I treaded water Hercules shouted if I was ready.

            “Yes!” I replied as I positioned myself on the board with my legs together and waited.  

            Soon I felt Simba’s nose where my feet met.  He tried to push me forward but needed to find the right spot first, tickling me all the while.  I separated my feet slightly and he quickly choose the center of my right foot.  Once he felt secure we were connected, he started swimming faster, propelling me with a wake, back to Derek, Fay, and Hercules.  The fact that this six-foot creature was pushing me encompassed my being and intimately connected us.   

            But it was the next trick that really cemented my awe for him.  When I was in position again, I held my right had to my chest and stretched my left out, ecstatic to know Simba would again come from behind.  When he appeared on my left he was upside down.  I quickly grabbed my left hand to his right fin and my right hand to his left fin.  Then I laid on top of him, my body supported by his, as I rode him back to the others.  

            It was impossible for anyone to be anywhere but in the moment when something like that happens, and I was no exception.  Deeply embedded in the now I felt oneness with the being and Mother Nature.  But that was not The One Moment. 

            The One Moment came when our time with Simba was coming to an end.  Back on the platform, we had a bit of time leftover because we were such a small group.  Hercules continued with dolphin facts as Simba swam past us and bobbed up to Hercules for a fish from the fanny pack he wore.  It was during one of these times that Simba popped his head up right in front of Derek and I then stayed there for a moment. 

            For the entire time that we interacted with Simba, every time I saw his eyes they were squinted.  But now his eye was completely open staring directly at me.  I became so excited; I wanted to make sure Derek saw as the others listened to Hercules.  But I didn’t want to look away for a second.

            “Look!” I said for Derek to hear.  “He’s looking right at us!”

            “I see!” he replied.

            Then, for about forty-some more seconds (some of the longest and most amazing moments in my life) we stood gazing into Simba’s eyes and he into ours.  It was so intense and constant that I felt goose bumps mushroom all over my body in the warm water.  It felt otherworldly, like the coolest kid in high school, the one that was popular because he was so nice and kind, was looking at us and saying.

            “I like you guys.”

            It also felt like a personal blessing for us.  From the ancient Greeks who believed dolphins carried the souls of the dead to the afterlife, to the Christians believing they carried the dead to Christ to be reborn, to sailors across time who felt dolphins were a good omen, it was finally our time to experience their sacredness.
           Simba was our omen and ambassador of dolphins who bestowed upon us the message and qualities of its spirit that they have represented throughout history to many cultures: to maintain peace and harmony, to remind us we are protected, to remember to be playful and joyful, to remember to resurrect ourselves for spiritual and personal growth, to have the inner strength to do so, and to cooperate with one another to live in peace and harmony.

            That was the one moment that made everything that came before, worth it.  May you all be sanctified with a dolphin blessing.

                                                                             x
                                                                             x
                                                                             x
                                                                          Jason

  

The Turkey Came Out of the Closet

A couple weeks ago Derek and I were in his hometown.  Besides how kind, thoughtful, and loving Derek is, another gift he has brought into my life is sharing the beautiful areas of Stonington and Mystic, Connecticut and Westerly, Rhode Island. 

Derek grew up in Stonington Borough, one of four peninsulas in the town that stretch into the Atlantic.  The Borough, as it’s called, used to be the “downtown” of the village when Derek was young in the days of soda pop shops, candy stores, and barber shops.  It was mostly a Portuguese fishing village on the ocean.  The Portuguese Holy Ghost Society, with an atmosphere wonderfully frozen in the 70s and allowing smoking inside, still serves up drinks, Friday fish and chips, and conducts the Feast of the Holy Ghost every year for nearly 100 years.  Every now and then we absorb the culture with a beer or two, some pool, darts, and music from the jukebox

But Stonington dates back to pre-Revolutionary War days with grand, Federal architecture homes built in the 1600’s.  It had an economic boom when it made much of the armory for the Civil War.  It is a place that George Washington once slept and Truman Capote came to write.  

Mystic is the next town south.  Its modern day fame comes from the movie Mystic Pizza, which was based on Mystic and filmed in the area.  We usually have a slice at the restaurant where screens throughout play the movie over and over.  But Mystic had it's own economic surge during the colonial days, using the many trees in the area as lumber for ships producing much wealth in the ship industry.

 

Both Stonington and Mystic retain the essence of quintessential, coastal New England towns.  I time travel back and feel a mini-Derek running around playing as we drive through The Borough.  It’s like a scent coming from a baker’s oven that has all the right ingredients of a charmed spot and era to hear stories.

Westerly, R.I. is where Derek’s father lives and just north from Stonington over the border of Connecticut and Rhode Island.  It is near Watch Hill, a beautiful neighborhood of Westerly on the coast that retains a sliver of a period from the early 1900s.  It has one of, if not the last remaining majestic Victorian hotels—The Ocean House—that used to line the Atlantic seaboard for the wealthy New Yorkers and Bostonians to summer.  Days that consisted of beach time before changing and walking the lawns above with parasols, playing croquet, followed by dinner with live entertainment.

   

There are also many mansions built decades ago that have been passed down through the same family for generations.  These beautiful estates at the ocean that Derek said are used maybe a month or two a year in the summer.  There’s a quaint, yet posh yacht club and an adorable little main street with beach shops, food, and ice cream.  Watch Hill also has the oldest carousel at the end of the street that still plays the brass key game.  I didn’t realize that is where the phrase, “To catch the brass ring” originated as a sign of being lucky.

 

Watch Hill’s most recent neighbor is Taylor Swift.  She swooped in a bought the biggest mansion on the tallest hill on the coast.  It was the same one I pointed out the year before to my parents, while having a drink on the expansive covered porch of The Ocean House; the one that, if I could pick one to live in, that was The One.  Good for you, Taylor, I’m happy for you great taste!  But I’ve heard she’s contributing to the community and has been a pleasure to those that have bumped into her.  Welcome to the ‘hood, neighbor, I’m available for tea anytime we're in town.

 The area not only has the water but there are also many winding country roads through hundreds of acres of protected forestland that we travel along through each town.  Along most of the roads are miles and miles of stonewalls, a few feet high, that the colonial settlers built with all the stones in Stonington that add to the unique New England experience.

Nowadays Stonington is the last working fishing town in Connecticut.  Gentrification has made the whole area from Westerly to Mystic pretty with a make over and drawing in more tourists and people like us escaping from The City.  

Going “up north” has become such a special escape from the people and craziness of Manhattan for Derek and I.  It is an easy trip; we simply walk to the end of our street, jump in a cab, a straight shot 12 blocks up 8^th Avenue to Penn Station.  The train ride is only 3 hours, and goes along coastal Connecticut.

 

Derek will recite the usual tour, as we go over the river that Katherine Hepburn lived on, the one Mark Twain based Huckleberry Finn on, and the one with the old WWII submarine docked as a museum.  But most importantly, I am pointed out every time the first home Derek bought in Stonington and then the most recent one he sold.  I endearingly listen and finish the sentences like most relationships of length. 

Sometimes when arrive to Westerly, we have the house all to ourselves.  It is such a drastic change from the tiny studio we share in The City; an ecstatic joy to have space from literally bumping into each other.  He gets a floor.  I get a floor.  We smile and laugh when we actually have to ask, “Where are you?”  What a concept, to be home, not see the other, or know where they are.

On this particular escape, Derek was a steam pot ready to burst and I was craving a massive injection of Autumn.  I Love, love, love Autumn.  I’m always ready to pull out the warmer clothes and light jackets.  We had been having a late summer in New York.  Before we left I went to Central Park, hoping to see colored leaves, but very few of the trees had turned.  I needed to see, feel, and smell Autumn.  My chances were better up north where it is usually 10 degrees colder.

 

It seems the last few years I missed Autumn because I was traveling often to where it was warm, or because there was an early freeze, big storm, or hurricane—Sandy—that brought all the leaves down in one swoop.  But I also missed it because it seemed the day after Halloween, the costumes and decorations for sale in Rite Aid or Duane Reade or many other places were cleared out and replaced immediately with Hanukah and Christmas decorations and colors. 

No!  Where are the fall colors?  The leaves?  The Multi-colored dried corn and corn stalks tied into bundles for decorating?  I understand it is a business decision by Corporate America to perpetuate consuming, creating and feeding the addiction of consumerism to the American people, but do we really need to eliminate Thanksgiving!?

Don’t get me wrong I enjoy the holiday season…when it begins…after Thanksgiving.  I know many people who must decorate for Christmas before Thanksgiving.  They are all wonderful people with big hearts filled with excitement for the giving season and coming together.  But I simply prefer enjoying all that...after Thanksgiving.

Needless to say I was expired and overdue for a good dose of fall.  My only request on this particular trip was to do a day trip somewhere new, some little, Rhode Island town along the ocean.  It is The Ocean State after all.  The day turned out to be 11-11, Veteran’s Day.  The place:  Wickford Cove, R.I.

 

We spent the first few days at a friend’s beautiful home on a salt water cove surrounded by nature in Mystic.  The fall colors were out putting on a fantastic show.  There were so many different shades of red, orange, yellow, and gold lining the inlet and all along the curvy roads of forest and stonewalls.  It was Autumn in all of it’s glory.  Nature’s beauty, so healing and welcoming to her womb. 

When we arrived at the house in Westerly, I opened the front closet to hang my coat.  As I looked up on the shelf above me I saw a large ceramic turkey staring back at me. 

Yes! I thought, "You must come out of the closet Mr. Turkey." 

I brought him down with excited hands and placed him on the center of the coffee table in the living room.  It warmed my heart to have such a lovely Thanksgiving decoration.

    

The next day we headed north on Route 1 as the fall colors continued the entertainment before turning onto a long dirt road that led to the ocean.  It was Moonstone Beach.  Back in Derek’s single and mingling days he found fun in the sun at the gay nudist beach on the northern end.  It’s a beach local Rhode Islanders know and it isn’t usually very crowded because the parking along the dirt road is limited.  After Derek’s reminiscing and sharing we headed back to the car to continue north. 

“Any dirt road is a good chance it will bring you to the ocean.  We’ve got to take it,” he said laughing.

 

When we came across one called Beach Street, it was a no-brainer as we turned onto the dirt road that was canopied by trees and led to a public beach.  Nobody was there, summer was over, the lifeguard's chair was empty, and the boats were all dry-docked.

But a light sense of romance filled the air.  It was an overcast, cloudy, autumn afternoon at a beach on the coast of Rhode Island with orange trees meeting the sand and a Lovebug.  We had a moment and carried on, asking a local walking by on the dirt road how to get to the main street of Wickford.  We weren’t far, just a bit further, over a little bridge, and to the right. 

Once over the bridge, we drove through the town without even realizing it and found ourselves at the water—small town America.  It was a nice mistake, as we found a Port-a-John—which we desperately needed—and it provided a scenic walk along the dock.  The local fishermen were out working amongst the boats that were lined along the water, with stacks of lobster cages pulled out for the season. 

   

We turned around and parked along the main street near some Pre-Revolutionary homes of bright red, yellow, and blue.  The street was lined with large, old trees filled with fall color.  We began walking into the center of town.  The street curved back toward the bridge in one direction and forked in another.  It could easily be walked in 10 minutes.  But we began slowly wandering like tourists, exploring the cutesy shops for the home decor as well as the metaphysical store. 

   

When we crossed the street where it curved we walked under a white wood arch with pumpkins on the ground on each side that led into the town square.  It was simply the corner of where the road forked with enough room for a paved pathway through the grass leading back to the street.  It had a few benches and a WWI memorial that was filled with American flags for Veterans Day.  One large tree growing from the grass near the road blanketed us in orange and yellow leaves.  My excitement grew as I noticed all the pumpkins on the ground on either side of the benches and around the tree. 

We sat on a bench and took in the town with the water to the right and absorbed Autumn.  There weren’t many people walking around which added to the romantic date afternoon.  But while sitting on the bench we did notice a family with young boys patriotically lower and fold the flags as the early dark of fall approached. 

“Awe,” Derek said.  “It reminds me when I was in Boy Scouts and we would do that on Veteran’s Day.”

“A perfect little small town, New England experience,” I replied.

 

“Thank you,” we both said to all the Veteran’s, our fathers, and grandfather. 

We carried on down the path through the park back to the street and explored a shop with local products and souvienirs near the water and bridge.  Before entering a beautiful lady greeted us, posing in her beautiful dress standing near a watering pale full of sunflowers with one in her hat (always a special sign of Joe to me).  I did a photo shoot with her excited to see such fall decorations and for my first female scarecrow. 

After picking up a wonderfully, silly Rhode Island souviner of the trip—I would tell you but it is a Christmas present for Derek—we crossed the street in search of food.  A large deck along the water had shops, galleries and led to a restaurant.  I discovered more fall and Thanksgiving decorations, a banner full of fall colors, pumpkins, and sunflowers.  Behind the banner was a very handsome scarecrow with a sunflower in his hat whom I had another photo shoot with.  I told him I met a sexy lady across the street he should meet, the one with the sunflower in her hat.

 

After discovering the restaurant was closed we took in the water and walked back to the street where we noticed dried corn stalks around the lamp posts.  Yes, there was another photo shoot.  I was so thrilled to see Thanksgiving and Autumn decorations that I found myself taking pictures or corn stalks.  I wanted to preserve and remember the day that Thanksgiving was resurrected for me by the little town of Wickford Cove, Rhode Island.  I burst with bliss for the perfect fall day with a sexy Lovebug.

We entered and explored an antique shop run by an eccentric, skinny, middle-aged woman with long frizzing salt and pepper hair and dark sunglasses.  The store was filled everywhere with old treasures from multiple eras that filled the homes and estates of decades passed.  The eclectic history of the lives the tchatchkes and the people who owned them was thick in the air as we breathed it in and felt it.

We had a romantic dinner at a little pizzeria.  A hamburger and a gyro, both with fries for $12.  $12!  That’s barely one meal in The City.  Afterward we headed home, stopping for a moive to end the date.  Another $12!  For Two!   Not even one ticket in The City.  A $25 dinner and movie date.  After returning home, I admired the handsome turkey on the coffee table before going upstairs to bed.  Upstairs! What a concept.

 

It was, a perfect day.

 

The moral of the story.  Don’t forget to give thanks!  And don’t forget Thanksgiving!!   Thanks for all of you!  Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!!  From us at B12. 

Gay Spotlight

It seems television, theatre, and film are all shining a bigger spotlight on the LGBTQ community by bringing gay themed stories to the stage and screen in a valiant attempt to raise the social conscience.  It's been an emotional ride experiencing some of these productions in the last few weeks as tears of joy, happiness, frustration, anger, and sadness came forth and flowed.  

The highs included seeing mainstream actors convincingly portray a mature relationship between two men based in love; in sickness and in health, through good times and bad; a marriage containing romantic, emotional, and physical intimacy.  But, most importantly, depicting it as something normal in the conventional sense.  

The lows came from the homophobic treatment and discrimination that the characters experience from society, strangers, and even family in the fight for equality that took place through highlighted era.  

Although I stand on the progress, struggle, and deaths of many that came before me, and cannot fully understand the depths of their pain, I feel I can empathize through my own experiences.  I don't claim to have always known discrimination by being born into it. 

However, I can tell you that it's quite a mind fuck (there is no better word) to be implied—by society—that I was born and raised at a time when being a white male gave me a slight advantage and step ahead in life before my first breath was taken.  For most of my life that was the unspoken societal understanding.  

To put it simply, it wasn’t until I discovered I preferred another penis instead of a vagina to play with, that, in an instant my fall from grace and banishment from the castle into the dark forest—literally (for those of you that read Amsterdam Angel;) and figuratively—with the other animals and monsters took hold.  Then, poof, rights that my brothers and I once shared, I no longer had, and everything from shameful or disapproving looks to death threats became part of my world.  Like I said, a mind fuck.  

So, to now experience these stories being told feels full circle, as the domino of states fall and follow suit with legalizing gay marriage.  It's only a matter of time before equality for all is law.  But at the same time, I also accept that my lifetime will never be free of homophobic attitudes.  It's upon me to choose kindness and compassion and not attempt to change them.

Occasionally, it will still be a struggle and tears of all sorts will always come to the surface.  But they will be welcomed as having experienced and shared in evolution.  All three of the following productions are—in my humbled opinion—a must see and highly recommended.

The first was HBO's premiere of The Normal Heart starring Mark Ruffalo, Matt Bomer, and Julia Roberts, among many other talented actors.  It tells the story of the early days of AIDS in New York City before the disease even had a name as it devoured the lives of many in the gay community.  Grab your tissues.  

Luckily, I was in a hotel in Philadelphia; as I was unprepared for the tears that came.  Two hours later and up way past my bedtime—for an ungodly, early report time to the airport—I blew my boogers into the sheets, as I couldn't bear to step away for one second.  Fortunately, I was not in my own bed—Derek would have killed me, had I tried that at home—and didn't have to wash them.  

Watch it.  It was informative, heartwarming, and heartbreaking.  More importantly, it was a story about a community coming together, asking for help, and standing up for their own self-worth. 

The next production I saw was a week and a half ago, when, on a whim I took advantage of living in NYC and hopped on the subway two stops to Broadway for Terrance McNally's latest creation for the stage, Mothers and Sons.  What had me on the edge of tears for nearly the entire time was how beautifully Mr. McNally depicts a mother who lost her son to AIDS 20 years prior and places her on the doorstep of her dead son's boyfriend, the boyfriend's much younger husband, and their young son for resolution and understanding.  

The brilliance of the play was that with each of the four characters, a different generation was represented, and along with them the consciousness of society concerning homosexuality during their respective eras.  Together they show how evolution progressively softened its gravity with time.  From the strict, conservative, close-minded Baby Boomer mother—played beautifully by the great Tyne Daly, whose performance was nominated for a Tony Award—to the young son who can't even comprehend that having two fathers is not normal, while his fathers, surprised at the idea of having to—and how to—explain to him why.  Hurry!  And go see it if you are in New York, as it closes on 22 June.      

The last production is the film Love Is Strange starring John Lithgow and Alfred Molina as a gay couple who marry once it becomes legal in NYC, only to discover an aftermath of discrimination that leaves them homeless and struggling to reclaim their life together.  It has been receiving rave reviews on the film

festival circuit as a darling and one to watch.  

It will hit theaters in August with one added bonus for you: Me.  Yes, I will be making my movie debut.  But don't blink or you’ll miss me.  That is, also, if I wasn't already left on the edit room floor.  Go see it.  Not only because it's a wonderful story told by brilliant actors with an amazing supporting cast, including Marisa Tomei, but to play a game of Where's Waldo, only, you'll be looking for me!  Here I am!

Perhaps, after watching any one of these you'll come away with more compassion and empathy toward your gay or lesbian son, daughter, brother, sister, cousin, or friend.  While hoping that they would never have to feel what the characters in these productions experience, or the countless others in the world today that continue to go through on a daily basis.  

http://thenormalheart.hbo.com

http://www.mothersandsonsbroadway.com

http://loveisstrangemovie.com