Growing up Gay

Dad was born in June of 1942 in the highly industrialized city of Pittsburg. For three generations his family had lived there. He was born out of wedlock - something that was far from excepted in the FDR years. So his aunt Margaret raised him, and he grew up calling his aunt 'Mom' and his mother 'Aunt.' Dad would not find out the truth until he was 27 years old, at which point we was relieved to know he was not his uncle's son.

Margaret was married to a man named Harold whom my father is convinced inspired the Honeymooners sitcom. An everyday Ralph Kramden, Harold hopped from job to job never able to stay more than six months. He started multiple businesses all of which failed miserably. He was not a violent man, but he was far from fatherly. At one Christmas that my father would forever remember, Harold insisted on decorating the tree. This was a tradition in the household to have Dad and his sister Peggy hand Harold the ornaments while he decided where they would go. The only problem this time was that he must not have secured the tree because it came crashing down in the living room as the last ornament went on it at which time Harold began to yell at Margaret that she must not have set it up correctly.

Harold was far from a good looking man. As I said, he was an everyday Ralph Kramden. He still mentioned though to find women with whom to run around. Certainly not beauty contest winners, these women must have been equally as deperate. Still, Margaret and Harold stayed together. Life in the 1950s before no fault divorce was far from blissful.

Most boys begin to feel sexual attraction during puberty, and Dad was no different. On the playground while he and his friends were playing today's version of 'man in the middle' he recognized an attraction, an impulse really, for another boy his age. Dad hid this feeling and told noone. To do so in the 1950s would have been suicidal. Dad would go 15 years from the age of 12 in the closet. He learned how to hide himself and, much to his demise, he found it remarkably easy. Unlike a black man, there are no distinguishing marks for a gay. So all he had to do was say he was straight. Nobody could prove otherwise.

I often wonder what would have become of Dad had he acted on his impulse with those boys on the playground. Would he have been exposed never to have been able to deny his instincts, or would the scorn have killed him? There were no doctors in the 1950s that would have understood a gay man. His parents, Harold at least, certainly would have been far from understanding. He would have been exposed and alone, but would he have been any more alone than he would feel growing up Gay in a straight world?

It is all a moot point, though, as Dad would be successful at hiding. He did not look like a stereotypical 'homo.' Fairly handsome at 6'1" and well groomed, someone looking at a picture of my father would think he was a fairly decent athlete. In later years nothing would ever indicate that he was gay. He looked just like any other father going to a little league baseball game.

Dad grew up with friends in Pittsburg, but he felt isolated and alone all the more. Oh, he had his "pals" for whom he had no particular sexual interest. They were all lower middle class boys, like Dad - Steve, the auto mechanics' son, "Butch," the local bully, Billy, his next door neighbor, and Richard, the son of the last surviving farmer from the days when his now suburban Town-ship was rural.

Television in the 1950's provided little relief from his loneliness and alienation. It was a heterosexual wasteland, all Lucy and Desi Arnez, Ozzie and Harriett Nelson, or Ward and June Cleaver. There was not a gay in the bunch, except maybe Ricky Nelson and Wally Cleaver. No Will and Grace, no Ellen. The movies provided the only relief. Dad was fascinated by The Picture of Dorian Gray, perhaps subconsciously recognizing the homosexual undertone. He also felt strangely akin to Brandon De Wilde, the little boy left behind and alone in Shane.

In his senior year his family moved to Tarpon Springs, Florida. A small town of about 15,000, his parents moved there because Dad's cousin, Marjorie, and her husband, Wally had moved there from Pittsburgh's wintry climate when he got a job teaching in Tarpon Junior High. Harold was starting another soon to be failed business called Suncoast MobileLift Equipment, Inc.

Dad continued to have friends but never acted on his impulses and attraction. His friends strangely enough came from all types of backgrounds. Some were particularly ignorant and formed a Redneck class. Some were jocks. The fact that my father was able to associate with such a wide variety of people demonstrates how well he was able to hide himself, and frankly how smart he was. Dad was always able to impress anyone. He knew his way about the world. People gravitated to him. Still he felt alone.

After his senior year, Dad would enter the College of William and Mary on a full scholarship. He'd stay there for two years and then transfer to Florida State where he would get his undergraduate degree and Juris Doctorate. Dad would always regret this decision to leave William and Mary. He'd look at this as one of the reasons he did not make it into the big time. He had that all too common male tendency to see oneself as the next Napoleon. To not do so would be counter to our basic genetic structure that has been making men unhappy since we first left our caves in search of greener pastures.