When I started college at 17, with all the usual fears and insecurities, I thought I knew myself somewhat well. I soon discovered I had many hard and painful lessons to learn. Aside from the typical guilt and shame of knowing I was gay, there was terrible sadness at the thought I would never have children of my own. I always loved children and grew up in an enormous family where there were always babies and toddlers. I did a lot of babysitting in those days.
So, when I accepted that children
He was in a city far from home, in the kind of bar he visited only when out of town. Something about these kinds of bars excited him, made him feel free to be himself. Other than his nightly visits to the internet, this side of his sexuality was unexplored, for the most part. On the net, he enjoyed watching the young men and getting acquainted with a few in chatrooms. He had never met then in real life, however. Not because he didn't want to, however. He had taken good care of himself, was fit
if things will ever get better for young gay people. A year ago, my nephew told me he thinks he might be gay. He also said he didn't want to be gay.
He is 25, out of the air force one year and working on becoming a drunk. His mother, my sister, is
a mean spirited, homophobic, angry person.
My nephew thinks she suspects he is gay because
she used to call him a sissy when he was a teenager when he made her angry. More than once she told him
no son of hers would be
Our first visit to the old house was primarily to get an overview of the place. I knew immediately that there was one room that I would need to spend some time in. The library. The shelves were filled mostly with novels, going back decades. Many appeared to be first additions. There were also stacks of newer paperbacks. It was obvious the old woman was into mysteries. A hospital bed covered by a colorful handmade quilt sat before a large window that overlooked a private patio and backyard.
I had driven by it numerous times, but only in the last few years did it look neglected. It was an enormous, old, red brick house built at a time when houses were architecturally designed, sparing no expense. It sat on a huge piece of property in a middle class neighborhood. It looked out of place.
One day my office got a call asking us if we would be interested in buying it. I was less interested in owning it than I was in seeing what it was like on the inside. So, when I picked