Hawaii

My hard-working big sister sent me some photos of her time in Hawaii with family. It was great to see her relaxing with the kids. She has worked hard her whole life and just retired after 38 years on the job.

A few years ago my husband, Tom, and I were invited to go to Hawaii with his cousins from the East Coast. There were six of them coming from New York. We flew from San Diego arriving first. I had made arrangements for an accessible van that we picked up on our arrival at the airport. When we arrived at the hotel we were greeted at the curb by some hotel staff with a tray of Guava juice. They explained to us in an apologetic voice that our seventh floor rooms were unavailable, and they hoped we could make do with a bungalow suite, nearer the beach. We said shucks I guess it’ll have to do.

We followed along from the lobby on a winding path past two swimming pools toward the beach. We finally came to a gate that opened onto cottage number two, a two bedroom, two-bath cottage with a kitchen, living room and a private Jacuzzi pool. Just for us. The bellman showed us all the cottage features, including the outdoor barbecue, and told us if we called the kitchen they would send a cook out to BBQ whatever we wanted. After the bellman left, we just looked at each other- wondering when they would catch the mistake and give us the bum’s rush out. The cousins were located in the cottage next door, and everyone had a wonderful week. They even got me into the pool and pushed me around like a deflated beach ball. All week long we got the royal treatment, all we had to say is we're ‘staying in cottage number two’ and the staff fell over themselves to be helpful. The mystery of our good fortune was never completely clear to us. Apparently cousin Caroline combined some timeshare credits that other favors, maybe I don't even want to know. In any event, thanks cousin, it was the trip of a lifetime. The photo here is our view from the cottage.

Bob n Bill

Bob and Bill have been together for 60 years. Now in their eighties, their home has become too much for them to handle. They are both frail. Their friend, Carl, is helping them sell and move to a facility with a dining room and linen service and emergency response as needed.

Bob and Bill have lived in many places during their 60 years together, Paris, New York City, Palm Springs. As I watch them navigate this difficult time I’m aware that many in their eighties rely on children or grand children to help cross these waters. Not so much with the gays who relied on peers through most of life’s transitions, now their friends are too old -or dead.

I wish there were something funny or hopeful I could say about this situation. But I'm afraid it will be repeated over and over as this generation of LGBT seniors age past the stage of self-determination. They are great and brave men and women who helped shape a world where I could be comfortable being myself. Thank you Bob and Bill, and all your peers who paved the way for me.

hair today, gone tomorrow

When I was in my early 20s, I dated a man named Gene. I suppose there were signs even early on that we wouldn’t last, he had never been to college, he was not particularly interested in intellectual pursuits. But he was so cute and sweet and lovable. It was on our second date that he made it clear he was wearing a hairpiece. I was surprised. I guess I was still at that tender age that assumes all men have hair- so when I started to run my fingers through his hair and he warned me, it was a shock. He wore a nice piece that was apparently glued on and prevented the public at large from knowing how significant his hair loss was.

He took me to meet his parents, and they were nice, accepting folk, genuine and honest and caring. After about four months, I decided we needed to break up. I'm afraid that none of my relationships at the time lasted much more than four months. I’m not very good at this transition thing so I invited him over and asked him to sit down. Before I got even two words out of my mouth I started to cry. It seems inherently unfair for the one delivering the bad news to cry first- but that is just the way I roll. So as soon as I started bawling he knew something was up. He made it easy; asked me if I was sure. He left after a hug.

When I was growing up I was aware that my gay uncle, my mother’s oldest brother, wore a piece on his head. I used to watch him in his bathroom get it from the Styrofoam globe and apply it to his own scalp. I thought it was a lot of work to go through. In retrospect I know how difficult it can be in the gay community. We judge each other so quickly and harshly.

I went to the barber this morning and he carefully trimmed all the edges around my ears and neck. He didn’t mention it today, God bless him, but I know he was looking down on my head from above. And it’s getting pretty thin up there.