To begin, let's be very clear about my reality. I was born with green eyes and copper hair. And I was born gay. And just as every boy or girl with green eyes and reddish hair has his or her own personality, point of view, and life circumstances, all I intend to share here are my observations and experience being in this world. I'm not a gay historian. I'm not a social scientist. I do, at least for the time being, have an excellent memory. As always, I welcome any of my dear readers' responses as you reflect on how the world looked through your eyes.
The Fifties
My earliest memories, no doubt aided by my mother's keeping copious notes in all of our "baby books," are of play. From baby sounds to toddler chatter to the voracious gobbling of new words and ways to use them, my earliest years were full of discovery and entertainment. Family entertainment on the little B&W TV of the early '50's was supplemented by two- and three-year-old me standing next to the set and imitating, sending up, riffing on any or all of what the rest of my family was clearly enjoying. From Milton Berle to Pinky Lee to Danny Kaye, their patter became my schtick, song and dance included.
By age four I was falling asleep every night creating stories in which I was a vital part, whether I was granting wishes and solving other people's problems as King (and yes, I believe my Mom co-starred as Queen, hm-mm) or simply being a silent observer of the beautiful men who lived in my imagination. Pre-pre-pubescent eroticism, so wondrous, so thrilling... and still, very much my own treasured, secret.
My pre-teen world was safe and encouraging. The infinite world of make believe and a big dress-up trunk full of all manner of costumes were all I needed, alone and with siblings and friends, to explore all that I could be. I knew I found a deep down, below the belly yumminess both in playing the desirer and the desired, and I intuited that certain plot twists needed to be saved for the night, for my special good night stories.
Those Palo Alto years were my Pleasantville, though I moved into Living Color years before our television did. When I was seven I discovered that if I stopped doing and even thinking, simply observing an animal absorbed in an activity, or a little child at play, or, wow, even a grown man playing volleyball on the beach in his swim trunks, if I simply opened myself to taking it all in, I could create the most delicious physical feeling inside my head and then my whole body, a feeling of carbonation, of inner shimmer, that was a precious gift each time it suddenly began.
It wasn't until the start of the next decade that I learned that there were words that not only tried to distinguish one person from another, but also that these words had the power to push us away from each other, to tell us to be ashamed.
The Sixties ... coming up...