In high school I tried out for the football team. That experiment, in August, lasted for one day. 100 degree temperatures on the gridiron is not my idea of sport. So, I made the only rational choice; a swimming pool of high school aged youth in speedos. It was a springtime sport, and sometimes a winter sport. Apparently the season depended on the whim of the athletic director.
I liked being in the pool and sometimes our coach instructed us to hold our arms out while fellow swimmers lay across them. This was intended to improve our form, but I just enjoyed it.
In 1971, I graduated from high school and while in college I came to become more conscious of my sexual orientation. There were lots of little clues: I enjoyed watching out my window as the boy who lived across the mall undressed for the night. I picked up a piece of gay porn from the trash and treasured it for months. It seems difficult to describe my experience to a post internet reader but I had a lot to learn and no easy way to learn it. I have read stories about farm boys who found other boys on the farm. Mine was not so easy.
Many years later I give thanks to my young friends on the swim team and the many other awkward, friendly experiences that taught me the joys of physical affection.
How beautiful to read these words across the years. How we find our way from the crumbs (or trash in this case) that others leave behind. Stephanie who found this blog via Oxford and a tiny slip of paper.
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