5th Grade

Flash forward a few years. By the time I was in fifth grade, I started to drift from Dad, and the weekend New York City visits became monthly. I was becoming a man, but much too early really. I had become quite a decent Little League baseball player. I also met my first girlfriend that year, another fifth grader herself named Amy. We went on one date to 'Something Different,' a small pizza shop across from my school, with another 'couple' on a double date. The pizza must not have been good because I did not talk with her again for 4 months when she then announced we were broken up.

As a young boy, I was about as much of a rube as they come. For my birthday weekend in 1982, I came into the city right at the time that Simon & Garfunkel were having their famous Concert in Central Park. This was the last time the band would play together, and in so doing New York City was planning for one of the most famous concerts in its history. Even my brothers knew about Simon & Garfunkel and certainly every New Yorker did. My father had a tradition of us children getting to pick where we wanted to go for our birthdays. Normally we picked a place to eat, and that was my choice. Dad asked me if I'd rather go to the concert secretly pleading with the Gods that I would choose what really was a better option, but I said my choice was Ravioli instead.

So we went that night to a random restaurant in New York City where I had a plate of ravioli that were probably frozen before I arrived. Dad never complained once, although my brothers certainly did. Every time I hear the 'Sounds of Silence' I think back to this birthday.

My father was very interested in how I was doing in school. By this time, I was showing promise. Math came very easy to me as did writing. I started to notice that he saw an opportunity in me to do what he had never achieved. I wanted to play in the Major Leagues for enough time to be elected to the Hall of Fame and then run for President of the United States. It seemed like a reasonable enough goal, and Dad flattered me by not laughing hysterically. Still, I started to see something different in Dad. He always had a drink in his hand, and he had become very cynical and, although I did not know it at the time, depressed. Dad had long suffered from alcoholism, but he would have fits of stopping and starting. The same with his weight. He would go on 'crash diets' and start running in Central Park. He'd drop 15 pounds, look great for a few months, then put it back on.

I also started to realize that Dad was different than the other kids' dads. I am quite certain now that none of my friends ever suspected he might be 'gay.' In fact, they probably did not even know what that meant. Still, Bert was always with him and this made me nervous. When he would come to New Jersey to see me for a Little League game or a school event, I would want to get in the car with him and Bert as soon as possible and escape into New York City where I was fairly certain nobody would see me. If I could change anything, I would have gone back to the fifth grade and asked Bert and my Dad to come see each one of my baseball games, to come to my birthday parties, to come to our house during Christmas. In fact, it sure would have been nice just to have invited Bert. That would have made Dad feel like his family accepted him, but to be simply put, I did not have the emotional capacity to put aside my fears of persecution for being different. So for the next several years, I would stay a safe distance away from Bert and Dad until we were hidden under the veil of a car roof and racing into the city.

Dad began to drink more and more. Ironically, he had expanded his circle of friends considerably. Bob and Fred were also now accompanied by Gene and Oscar. They had three boys, one of which was younger than me and unfortunately extremely obese. The others were older, more like my bothers' ages. Later Gene would spend some time in prison for white collar crimes. Oscar would die of AIDS, as would many of the friends Dad made in these days.

The Gay Father's Group, while providing emotional comfort to Dad, in all likelihood also re-enforced his alcoholism. Adult friends are unfortunately really just acquaintances. They like to be with you if it entertains them, but more often then not they do not want to address anything that may cause an uncomfortable situation - like a 'friend' drinking his future away.

Despite his drinking, though, Dad was able to maintain his career at AT&T. This is also an indication of how monopolies worked. He was spending himself into debt, though. Despite a very good salary, most of his money went to an overly expensive apartment, Persian rugs, and frequent trips to Barneys.

I had a friend in New Jersey that had an alcoholic stepmother. She was not the quiet drinking type, more like Hansel and Gretel's stepmother. Whereas I ignored my father's problem or chose not to recognize it, my friend found a way to convince his mother to enter a rehabilitation center. She is now a retired real estate agent in New Jersey and is still married and living in a very well to do neighborhood. The old cliché is indeed true. A man must take action when change is still possible.