Traveller Living in Toronto
Teddy Bears
For me, I had no interest in Teddy Bears aside from being a gift to my little sister when I was a teen. However, in the last 15 years the symbolism of a Teddy Bear has grown significantly in my mind.
I asked for a Teddy Bear for Christmas at least 10 years ago and I think it was taken as a joke - for Lucille bought me a tiny one which was all of 3 inches and sat in the china cabinet. I still do not have one (nor have I ever had one) to take to bed. I used a blanket when little, not a teddy.
Communion in Spirit
Last evening was a wonderful evening. Mitesh came over about 7 and we watched a movie called Normal (with the R reversed) which dealt with a man who comes out as a woman in a man's body on his 25th wedding anniversary. Both of us could see parallels to our experiences with spouses, parents, and the community at large even though it was not about coming out as homosexuals.
Both of is needed the time to relax and to hold each other. It was a new experience for we did nothing more than put our arms around each other while the movie was on - and due to our limbs going to sleep we did have to change positions more than a few times. Touch and communication is so much a part of a spiritual connection as is cuddling all night, oral or anal sex. Moreover, I promised not to breathe on him so he could avoid getting my cold. So we avoided the usual (and always wonderful kiss - for he is one of three people I have known who can kiss sensually and wonderfully).
With Mitesh, we did not need to exchange the fluid to be at one. We had done that before. There was a oneness about having the white lava inside.
I was so moved by the beauty of the evening that I had difficulty getting to sleep. It took me over an hour after I went to bed to go into a deep sleep but once I did, there was no getting up.
Mitesh yesterday morning suggested in an email that I take some cold medication and bundle up and go out and enjoy the sunshine. When Alexander came home he suggested we go out to brunch. I agreed to do so. I took the medication and bundled up (but it was a warm day) and we had brunch, an extremely pleasant conversation, and then took a bit of a walk during which time I stopped at a drug store to get some cough medication since I had not any in the house, just ordinary sinus cold stuff. I felt really good.
With Alexander as with Mitesh there is a connection even just in conversation. It is different. We are not partners or anything like that although at Statler's (despite them seeing us with others) we feel that we are still seen in public as being partners - probably that has to do with the spiritual connection we seem to have. We often communicate with more than words. Mind you living in the same household over the last 16 months has made us more aware of habits, needs etc. but we are more than just room mates and more than just BEST FRIENDS.
In a discussion at another place, they are discussing the swallowing of someone's cum as a spiritual experience. To some extent, when one takes communion, one is renewing a bond between Christ and oneself, at least that is the meaning I attach to communion. As the person delivering the bread and wine to the congregation, I am a part of the spiritual bonding but I am there more as a delivery boy. With a blow job, my body is the delivery boy - the connection is not just the body - it is spiritual, ethereal, metaphysical, sacred, divine, pure, heavenly. How many of these words describe the expereince? Sometimes after communion I feel filled, not wishing to eat. Sometimes, after having the liquid of life (cum) I feel that same lack of desire to eat.
As I think back to my life, when have I been blessed with such wonderful connections before? I have to say that Ron (who died in January and whom I knew since age 3) and I had a connection that held throughout. We never had sexual contact, even as children we never even experimented. Yet there was a bond there which could not be broken - an understanding of each other - a oneness. Ron was not religious but he delighted in attending Church with me. The bond between us was spiritual in so many ways. I am sure that had he not had AIDS, we might have exchanged some fluid towards the end after our partners died but we never needed to do so to have a spiritual oneness. Mind you we did not have the bodily experience - the divine interchange of fluids.
I did not have that kind of bond during secondary school. I had friends. Similarly, in University during my undergraduate days I had no strong bonds - there were two or three close friends whom I still think of often and even keep in touch with but there was not the bond I am talking about.
While I was at London School of Economics, things were different. Grant, who made contact with me just this fall again, and I travelled to Cambridge for a weekend, went to Stratford and Oxford together and last saw each other as he departed Amsterdam for a whirlwind tour of Europe with my room mate. I felt there was at once a connection and as well a privacy which we shared. Had we continued to know each other, I think that bond would have developed significantly as it had the potential to be completely spiritual. Had we known our desires, I am sure we would have transformed the relationship by exchanging the divine fluid.
With both Ron and Grant - neither I nor them were out to ourselves fully let alone to each other at the time. That is amazing that we felt the spiritual bond before our coming out.
The only other person whom I have had a spiritual bond with was Bob. I had met Bob twice at HOW dinners. He arranged the dinners in Toronto. He sat aloof during those dinners so I did not feel he was close to anyone. Yet, he would write to me privately and fixed at least one of those dinners on a date when I could get an excuse to be present which was awfully nice of him. Our correspondence did blossom and he helped in an emergency to get the payment to the landlord when I was arranging my first apartment after separation. However, our bond developed rapidly once I had moved. Cut short by his death, I felt as if there was complete understanding and communication in body language as well as in words - a spiritual heavenly divine connection.
Note, even though I had 34 years with her and had taught Sunday School with her before that and she had been in my car pool to University, I never had that spiritual bond with Lucille. I had something special but I can see it now in mediation that I am always guessing what is going on - there is NOT the understanding, the spirit present in the relationship. That is no different than it ever was.
The Anniversary of My Mother's Death - Five Years
There is much I could write about what a mother means to a guy. My mother, the school teacher - always the school marm died December 26, 1998 and I want to honour her this day five years later.
I was much closer to my mother than to my father. I loved to talk to her. She did arithmetic and spelling and words with me as we talked. I felt so grown up with her. She taught me to bake and I think I learned to take responsibility from her. Unlike my father, she worried and took an overly reposing attitude towards everything.
I well recall her coming to pick me up at my Grandmother McCready's place where I was staying in Niagara Falls. I was probably five or six. She and my sister were staying at my mother's parent's place. To understand this story you have to know the situation. My Grandmother McCready was one of 16 children. She loved having her brothers and sisters around. She also had raised a niece since the mother had died when Vena was about 3. She had a roomer - Mrs. Barnes. My Grandmother was a demonstrative person and hugged and kissed her family. As I was going out to the car, my Grandmother hugged me as did a couple other people - I do not remember who but it was probably a sister of my Grandmother and Mrs. Barnes. It was late August - polio season.
When I got into the car, my mother scolded me for hugging those people. I know it was her fear of polio but it exemplified my mother. She was a wonderful caring woman but until much later in my life she was not a hugger.
Whenever I went to the Jackson household, I did not feel the emotional attachment. My Grandmother Jackson had Parkinsons and she was not able to do things much. There was a lot of care by my Grandfather and he showed patience and love in what he did for my grandmother but there was little of the closeness there.
My mother died rather unexpectedly. My father had died the previous year and immediately after she was showing all kinds of signs of disorientation, particularly with regard to time and names. Yet, she was recovering. I had gone to see her Halloween weekend. We took her out for a meal and drove her past our old house in Riverside to see the kids in costume and the houses decorated for Halloween. Lucille had an argument with her about Mark getting married - he was only just beginning to see Wendy and we did not tell her about that but she wanted him to be married. Lucille sharply indicated that was his business and they hardly spoke the rest of the evening. Lucille dumped her feelings on me after we dropped my mother off at the retirement home.
I had talked on the phone with my mother the Sunday before she died and she indicated she was looking forward to going to Christmas Eve service with Diane and staying at Diane's until later Christmas Day and if I wanted to phone, I should do so either at Diane's or on Boxing Day.
She had a stomach ache Christmas Eve so decided to wait to go to Diane's until Christmas Day but the stomach ache held. She went to the nurse at the retirement home and it was recommended she go to Emergency and have it checked - it had now lasted 24 hours. The doctor in emergency ordered some tests for the Saturday morning and admitted her for overnight. Diane phoned and left a message with Mark (I had already gone to bed). When I got up in the morning, Mark told me so I decided to phone the hospital to talk to her about 7:30. They kept telling me there was no one there by that name. I phoned emergency and they told me what floor she was on so I phoned the nurses station. The nurse tried to catch Diane who was just leaving but when she could not and I explained who I was she told me my mother had died. My mother had been out to the nurse's station at 4 a.m. to ask where she was and then when they went in to check her, she was dead. All we know is that in emergency they thought she might have a blockage in her colon.
Trevor was in Texas and so we tried hard to get hold of him. Eventually we did and got him in time to attend the funeral. Diane in the meantime made the funeral arrangements. Lucille would not sit with me at first at the funeral. She would not take her coat off. She would not go into the last viewing with the family and resisted being at my side. If there was ever a time when I realized our marriage was over it was that day. Indeed, within a couple of days I told her I needed to get away and I went to a friend's house overnight just to get away from her (and of course experience my first night with a gay man).
The funeral arrangements have left me permanently feeling badly. My mother made my father's arrangements. There was no place in the service for someone in the family to eulogize. I complained to Diane about it. When I saw the order of service for my mother's funeral I raised the issue again but Diane snapped "We don't do that in the Lutheran Church" - well none of the rest of us including the minister and my mother were Lutheran. I have always felt my grieving would have been easier had I been able to eulogize both my parents. I still hurt from that.
Now, I find myself grieving over again. Lucille abandoned me as I grieved and now there is no one to hold me.
Christmas Night
Good Evening:
There is never enough time to indicate to the people one knows and loves how much they mean to you.
The people receiving this note mean a whole lot to me despite the fact my Christmas Cards (letter) are late or non-existent this year. Please know that I really want to hear from you and I really want to remain a friend and build on that.
I got home about 3/4 of an hour ago and the cat was delighted to see me. I had gone to my sister's for Christmas Turkey and she has been so wonderful to see that I get Christmas or Easter dinner since I have been on my own. Mind you, I offered this year to make it (as I did in 2001) but instead I took the Jelly salad which I make (a favourite from my mother at Christmas) and the vegetables, a bottle of wine, and some bread.
In the 3/4 of an hour I have been home I have had a brief conversation on MSN messenger with a friend in Taiwan. It was brief because I am so tired and have a headache. However, before I close off for the day, I wanted to wish each and every one who receives this a healthy and happy holiday weekend and a wonderful New Year.
Last night, Mitesh and I celebrated the Christmas season at the best possible musical location - Roy Thompson Hall (where the Toronto Symphony plays) but this was a Church service. The hall holds about 3400 people and I would say about 3000 attended as the only empty seats were in the balcony at the far sides. The joy of knowing we are created specially and we each have something in US to contribute and to connect with others is the magic of this season. At about 12:30 Mitesh and I went to Statler's where we enjoyed some of their Christmas gift to patrons - sandwiches and boy did we need them by then.
This time of year is hard on some people. I have had two very sad letters tonight from people who were lonely. One, is going to be fine. He lost his job last week (layoff rather than firing and they had fired some of the engineers with more experience than he had) and is in a country that is not his home land.
The other writes out of despair. Despair about loneliness and a bleak future without family or financial prospects.
I do not know what to do for either of them. Me, being me, wants to help but there is only so much I can do - to some extent they have to do it for themselves. That is why I said my engineer friend is going to be fine because he has already started the process of getting to a better place in his life.
I find confrontation and negativity hard. I am not a confrontational person. This year has pushed a lot of confrontation on me. Mediation is certainly confrontational.
As most of you know Sammi stayed with us for six weeks in Sept. and Oct. and before that a number of weekends. Because I was under such stress, I asked him to move and helped him in doing so. He took that as me "going back on my word" (I had told him he could stay longer if it worked but also told him if it did not I would help him at the end of October to find a place). Yesterday I offered him in a Christmas greeting an olive branch by writing
I want to be your friend
In return he wrote
Well, i'm sorry to say that i do not want to be your friend after all what you did to screw my life up.
That makes me sad but I will leave it at that. For me, the emotional drain of mediation is/has been enough to deal with and I do not need to pursue anything when there is no response.
People, love, and caring are what is important at this time of year and so I offer to each of you a friendship which I only hope will blossom as time goes.
Hugs and cheers,
DJ
http://www.geocities.com/onedjbear/index.html
Christmas Eve Service
This was my fourth Christmas Eve service at MCC Toronto. Roy Thompson Hall which holds 3400 and is filled with people who attend the church and often with their extended families. The Christmas Eve service itself had a choir the first year I attended of 170 people (I have not counted since).
The other aspect of the service was the fact that so many parents and supporting family members attended. It was striking to me back in 2000 to see gay couples (remember that Bob and I attended the first legal same-sex marriage by banns [court rulings in 2002 and 2003] January 14, 2001 at the Church) let alone gay couples with two sets of parents in tow at a church service - can one say in-laws? I have since been to people's homes where the two sets of parents were present. Given when I was brought up and my Methodist and fundamentalist roots, it was a pleasant surprise to find the acceptance in a Christian community.
I leave it to you to interpret whatever you wish from the article. The pastor did not like the description of himself (in some ways it is sort of an accurate picture) but alas he said it did not make him wish to stop reading the article.
Here is the reference and the article:
http://www.globeandmail.com/servlet/ArticleNews/TPStory/LAC/20031220/MARMO20//?query=metropolitan+community+church
Home at last -- and not just for the holidays
By DR. JEAN MARMOREO
Saturday, December 20, 2003 - Page F7
Have you ever come home to a place you've never been before?
That's what it felt like for my husband and me five years ago when we literally stumbled into the Christmas Eve carol service at Roy Thomson Hall in Toronto.
We learned only when we were seated that this service has been held since 1991 by the Metropolitan Community Church for its constituents, the gay and lesbian community of Toronto. We've gone every year since, dragging our friends to this sold-out gathering that validates an undying need to belong for a community that's still often shut out from more traditional holiday observances.
The celebration was defined by its 2,500 participants, who were dressed in velvet and leather, studs and metal. Imagine -- people dressing up like that for Christmas Eve. The music was produced with huge pizzazz. When we all rose, in full puff, to belt out Handel's Hallelujah Chorus, the organ and choir made it seem as if we were all going to levitate to heaven.
Then came the showstopper, the earliest and simplest song of my childhood: Jesus Loves Me. I started weeping and didn't stop until long after the parents of the church's parishioners, many of them old and awkward and uncomfortable with their offspring's sexuality, stood to receive the audience's deafening applause.
For more than 30 years, the MCC has been an anchor for Toronto's gay and lesbian community, a population that continues to be shunned in some larger, established churches. Many members of the congregation remain cut off from their families, forced to flounder in finding connections that matter, and acceptance for what is deemed aberrant, sinful, shameful.
The family members who turned up that night, with their children, were now being acknowledged for their bravery. The fragility of that bond, the struggle to find accord and acceptance, the solidarity of the congregation in supporting that effort, the simple yet profound power of love, soared to the beams in that hall.
Since then, we have known in our hearts that this is our community.
We feel it even more now that we've moved into the church's downtown neighbourhood -- and participated in one of its sermons. Rev. Brent Hawkes, the elfin, Energizer-bunny minister of MCC, asked my husband to talk about addiction as life's ultimate denial, as part of a 10-part series that had been created by asking the parishioners about the critical issues in their lives -- the ones you don't usually hear much about from a pulpit.
There were sermons on critical illness, depression, personal branding (true), sexuality and half a dozen topics that gave the "coffee and cookies" afterward a certain refreshing frisson.
Parishioners were encouraged to use the gorgeous Sunday of my husband's sermon to start what would be a very tough conversation about their drinking and drug use with the people they cared about.
The sermon armed them with a new lexicon and understanding of what constitutes addiction from someone who had been there and had credibility with this audience of skeptics. It addressed how addiction destroys lives and relationships, how it is fueled by denial and perpetuated by rationalization: "It's not about the amount; it's about the consequences."
Brent Hawkes made following through easier. Open discussion meetings on addiction followed the service, and individual appointments were available afterward.
One of my patients is a long-time member of MCC. When I asked her about the sermon on sexuality, she remembered that it was honest and humane. She found the sermon comforting not only because it supported the way she practised sex, but because it affirmed what she seeks in all her relationships -- trust and caring.
So while a more heterosexual congregation might redden at hearing about some of these encounters, at its heart, the sexuality sermon saluted the inherent goodness of every human being and their capacity to express emotion and be loving with each other.
At MCC, watching men come forward hand in hand to receive a blessing is a touching experience. As is hearing the words of healing during that part of the service set aside for acknowledging individual hardships or overcoming illness.
The powerful feeling of finding your way back home can be overwhelming, which is why boxes of tissues are placed in every pew. The woman behind me handed me wads of the stuff when the collective emotion of one service caught me up in its wave and popped the cork once again on my own store of bottled tears.
Choir members, who see everything, are quick to embrace you after the service, reassuring you that you are the norm and not the exception.
The same spirit so evident during that Christmas Eve service five years ago perpetuates itself within this congregation every day, not only for the GLBT (gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender) population of Toronto, but for anyone who wants to come into the church. Just as the Christmas Eve service at Roy Thomson Hall is inclusive for all faiths, many Jews, Muslims and Catholics find in the Metropolitan Community Church a refuge, sanctuary and serenity that is as real as it is powerful.
As Brent Hawke extols, Christianity is only one of the many paths to God, and MCC is a church for all people.
In this season of halting homecomings and contrived community, you may want to think about that.
Love: Something We All Want
The Lovers. These three things are to be taken note of: the lowest love is sex - it is physical - and the highest refinement of love is compassion. Sex is below love, compassion is above love; love is exactly in the middle.
We all need some love. It is difficult sometimes to find that love. By love here, I mean complete acceptance for whom we are. I mean an understanding of when we need bolstering and when we need to be left alone. I do not mean a possessiveness. I do mean an emotional and physical connection that is beyond compare.
In my life, my father was incapable of showing the love he had. I know he cared and was proud but he never expressed it. He was a wonderful conversationalist but he had been an only child and everything was about him. When we traveled, he would determine when we started, stopped, and where we went.
Then, I married a woman who was incapable of showing any love. After 34 years I gave up. She had been abused emotionally as a child and I thought by bolstering her, and getting her counseling that she would get over that. BUT, this was a case to prove the point that when someone does not wish to change, they will not change. She had been in continuous counseling from our 8th year of marriage, often with me in attendance and yet she progressed from being violent to herself, to being violent to the house and starting 21 years after she entered counseling being violent with me.
When I finally moved out in November 2000, I was relieved. I moved as far from the scene as possible while still commuting to my work. I arranged initially to use the part-time faculty office so I would not be there when she tried to break in (as she had done before).
A friend whom I had only known casually before asked me to go the Ontario Art Gallery about a week after I moved to Toronto. He had left his marriage of 40 years about 9 months earlier. I went as I had not been to the Art Gallery for a number of years. We agreed to meet the following weekend and before we knew it he was expressing his love for me. At first I found it difficult to accept. However, by February, when he suggested he would like to wear a ring to symbolize his love for me, I held back a day and asked him if we could get rings together. I knew then that I loved him just as he loved me.
The day after we got our rings, there was a HOW (Husbands Out to Wives) dinner and we arrived with out new rings. John Whyde and Duane Billingslea from Columbus Ohio who were in town for the weekend noticed and snapped the only picture of Bob and I. That picture is found at: http://www.geocities.com/onedjbear/DJ_Bob001.jpg. Hopefully, you will be able to access it. Notice the happiness in our eyes. The relationship was one of peace, open communication and even though we did not live together, there was a tremendous amount of care and understanding. This was the physical and compassionate love of a true love relationship.
I have been asked many times whether I loved my wife when we married. It was different. I truly wanted to get married. I was unaware of being gay. I wanted a normal family life with children. My wife had lots of friends as a teen, a wonderful smile, was pretty, was graduating in home economics, loved to cook and sew her own clothes, and I had seen her while she babysat a family of children for a week as the parents were off on holiday. I truly thought she was a prize. However, when a counselor asked us to list why we got married, I listed all those factors and was made aware that they were like a shopping list and never said "I love you" even though in my youth I thought it meant love.
My wife was unable to write down any reason why she married me. If I think about it, it would have to be because she wanted out of her home situation, because she thought I would be successful in life, because she knew I was religious. Again, I do not think there was any conscious love present.
Interestingly enough, I never felt I could be 100% open with my wife. Her ego was too easily burst (remember she had lived in fear in her childhood home). She was more moody than I thought possible which meant what was said one time might be taken a completely different way another time. I never was able to figure out what to say so things remained in my self rather than get expressed. I suppose that is the start of marriage breakdown.
Add to that the insecurity that my wife felt and it is easy to see why she was terribly possessive. Her mother had been a recluse and while my wife was so much better than her mother at going out, she wanted to stay away from many activities such as departmental parties and certainly did not wish me to go without her. She was possessive of my time and resented my having any friends which were not hers. Because I truly get along with people much easier than she ever did, all OUR friends were HER friends and when she got on the outs with them we would change. It did not matter that I might still like the husband or the couple. One couple we were close to for a number of years was a couple she had been in their wedding party. One day after they visited, she said to me "They are not getting along and I don't want to see them again". The fact is that we never did and when they split up I phoned the husband and kept up a little correspondence but other than that no contact with close friends like that ever again. That is what I mean by being possessive.
True love is open to all things being said without anger. True love is the wonder of being able to talk things through. True love is not ebbing possessive.
Mediation - Second Round
Yesterday was a tough day emotionally but I suppose it had to be. I went into the mediation with less trepidation than I had had before. However, I still came out with anger.
We agreed on a sum of support which is much higher than I had thought I would be willing to go. They had asked for even more. One question which came up by both my lawyer and the mediator was with regards to what a judge would do if we walked out. Some judges would have split my income 50-50 apparently (which was the principle Lucille's lawyer advanced. My lawyer advanced the argument that I needed more to keep working (car expenses, etc.)
Thus we ended up with me getting over $1,000 per month greater than Lucille (after taxes). Also, in the end, my contract income was not included. Luckily, my net contract income in the last four years has gone from anywhere from $0 (one year) to $10,000 and no one could make a case to average that out because of cash flow problems in down years - an argument which my lawyer kept making.
My anger comes from her inflated budget. It comes from the fact that Lucille never contributed nor does she say thank you. I told my lawyer that I rarely get angry but I was feeling a great deal of anger.
Emotionally I was drained at the end of the day.
I was in bed asleep before 10 which is unusual these days. I had not slept well the night before and when I woke up I was stuffed up. Last night I only awakened twice, both times to clear my nose and bladder - and only woke up around 8 and probably will go back to bed after writing this. I do have a deep cold and I want to be better quickly.
Mediation
I just got home exhausted and feeling rather hurt and fragile. The weather in Kitchener-Waterloo was nasty - I would guess 3 inches or more of snow fell in the two hours of mediation. It took me almost an hour to get from Waterloo out to the 401 but once I got east of Guelph, the roads were dry. Yet, traffic was so thick that it took me 2 1/2 hours to drive home.
If I could summarize my feelings, I would have to say that I am feeling as if I can not win. I sometimes wonder what the value of life itself is. Lucille has lived lavishly all her life and it appears the cards are stacked to ensure that she continues to do so while I will live in poverty. So I feel. At one point the mediator suggested I move back to Kitchener to save on rent and I told him one of the reasons that I moved to Toronto was my fear of being in Lucille's presence after her having been violent to me, going to the superintendent where I had moved to try to get into my apartment, having tried to knock the door of my office down, etc. Then when he left me with my lawyer I broke down and cried - mentioning that to him just brought up all my feelings. It appears that no matter how I cut it there is pressure on me to give Lucille MORE. I know it is only material goods (money) and I can live without it.
However, the feeling is much deeper than that. I feel unloved. I feel that the people whom I have befriended have abused my friendship and I have not received friendship or love in return. I learned as a youngster to try to please my parents and teachers. I went on to a marriage which was always about me pleasing and not about my being pleased. I have even felt some of that within the last year. I won't mention names.
Of course, there are exceptions. One individual was extremely anxious to pay me back - looked upon my help as a debt (which it was not necessarily). Another started to treat me to some things.
It is not money I want really - money won't buy what I want. I want to be cared for, cared about, and YES loved. If it were me reading this, I would ask "Is the person capable or willing to accept it?" and as me I think I can answer - yes I would enjoy it thoroughly.
I hate telephones
The telephone is one of the worst inventions. First, mine uses only batteries and so what happens - it gives out and loses all my lost numbers etc. Then I have to go and replace the batteries. I hear the phone ring in another room and I can not get to it fast enough to answer it (that is if the other phone is plugged in).
In addition, there are one or two people whom I do not wish to talk to. One of the reasons I insist on call display is that I am trying to avoid calls from those people. When you know my history you know why. Wel, what that means is that I will not answer the phone if I do not know who it is - yet so many people block their numbers, including most cell phones.
Those people have to be understanding of my situation or leave a message that makes me wish to phone back. Alternatively, they have to set a specific time via the computer and I attempt to be present to answer then.
Finally, I seem to like taking naps these days. Invariably, the phone is such a nuisance when it rings as soon as I am asleep. Why does it have that habit? It seems to search out times fo rme to be asleep. Recently there was an afternoon when both Alexander and I were asleep and we both were awakened by the phone rining but not in time for either one of us to get to it.
In life, each person is supposed to be in control of thier own life - the time as well as the amount of time one spends on each task and each activity. The phone acts as an interuption to that flow of activity which one wants.
I recall once getting a call from a relative to say that her husband was going to be late arriving and when I asked what that was all about, she said I had answered the phone the previous night and she had aksed if it was alright for her husband to stay overnight at our place the next day. It had not registered with me because I had been in a deep sleep but as I thought about it I had remembered what I thought was a dream about answering the phone.
At work, the phone tag I used to play I am sure had something to do with my dislike of the phone. One year I was Faculty President as well as being Director of Instructional Development alnog with my regular teaching duties but there were huge numbers of meetings to be set up. Luckily I had a secretary in both offices who understood my needs but I often ended up playing phone tag most the day.
The computer, first on our internal system in the 1980s and then on the internet starting in 1991 solved much of the phone tag sort of problem. I prefer writing to talking unless the person is positively nice and understanding.
I sometimes wonder if someone can inherit their attitude towards phones. My father hated the phone when I was young and liked the idea of talking to the outside world. He insisted that no one answer the phone during dinner. Then, he would have one of us children answer and tell whomever was calling that he was not home. He would then tell us they could phone him at his law office if it was so important. Yet, my father liked to talk whereas I feel so much more comfortable writing (clearly there are people I like to talk to and hopefully they know who they are).
The first year I was teaching, I was awakened at 3:20 one morning by a phone call to ask me for help with some economics. I am sure the kid did not realize what an imposition that was, for he probably worked often through the night as many students do around examination time. One other night that same year, I had a lady phone about 2 a.m. and ask if I was Alberta's son (ironically at the time I lived in Alberta, having just moved there a few months before that phone call).
There have been dark phone calls. In 1988 when my father-in-law was not well, I received a phone call at 11:30 (I had just gotten to sleep) from the nursing home telling me he had been transferred to the hospital to intensive care. My wife and boys were asleep. Do I wake them to drive the three hours to his city, Windsor ON? I ultimately decided to get a few hours of sleep myself and got everyone up at 5:00 and we drove down to see him, one at a time. He survived that episode but I worried when making the decision how I would feel if he had died before we got down there.
The year I was in St. Louis (1997-98) I got a phone call at 3:40 in the morning infomring me that my father had died. He had had several heart attacks at that point and was weakened. He used a wallker most the time. He had fallen (we do not know whether he had a new heart attack) but he had hit his head and died after my mother went to bed. In this case, I knew we had a 10 hour trip to get to Windsor - should i awaken my wife and start out, should I awaken the boys and tell them. Ultimately, I used judgement and waited until a more reasonable time to phone and wake them up to catch them before work or school but at a time when they should be getting up anyway. That night I did not get back to sleep.
You see, if I start ranting about telephones I can rant on and on but I will leave it there for now. Thanks for listening.
My Wonder Man
Mitesh has been having a hard time of it lately. He had a cold Monday when I went out to Yorkdale Mall to see him. Moreover, he is usually uncomfortable with the situation there. It is crowded and he will not let me do more than a handshake and with him I can not get used to the idea of shaking hands - how do you shake hands with a guy whom I feel intimate with?
This is the second cold within a few weeks and he tells me that he has not had one before since he came to Canada. He is so worried about his job. I wish I could help him.
Moreover, he is lonely. I would like to see that he has company more frequently than he has now. The problem is I think he feels his life is a drag. He does not get home until late (he has a terrific work ethic) and then he deals with his mother. It would be so nice if I could rescue him from all that but my days of rescue are over. I will be there for specific things when asked but I am not going to fall into the trap I did with Lucille or Hesham El-Nagar (Sammi).
It is fine to help someone when they are appreciative of what you do for them. Because Mitesh has often wanted to pay for things, I am very aware that he would be appreciative.
He said something very interesting today. He volunteered that money isn't everything any more. He said that a relationship and stability are the two things he wants most. He has to make the choice about a relationship. And the stability willl come when the economy improves and he gets with a company which is stable.
Mitesh, if you read this - know that I CARE. I love you.
WHO IS|RICHARD?
Richard Young is a guy whom I met as he joined HOW (Husbands Out to Wives) in 2002. After several conversations over the phone, he agreed to go to Kirkridge retreat for gay men in January. Ray B. and Alexander alond with Jack K. all worked to find a way for Richard to go despite the fact the registrations were full.
I have never seen a man more in need of coming out to himself and to the world around him. At Kirkridge, many of us took turns comforting Richard and making things possible
Long Day
The day was a long one. It is the first of December and the last day of classes. And oh, how I ache to see some of my students again. I will not mention names but I do have this very strong feeling that some are eye candy. I have NEVER permitted myself to get involved with a current student, even when at the University, but a few I have known when they came to class.
Larence, when he took my Social Work Administration class had been a friend for a considerable time. At that point we had not been intimate at all but he had guided me through much of my coming out. Mike, Larence's partner was a friend before he took my undergraduate classes as well and I did have lunch a couple of times with Larence and Mike during that year.
In more recent times, Phil whom I mentioned in my last entry became a friend while still a student. He is the first student I came out to while teaching him.
Sean Smyth was a student I grew close to as he was doing research for me. He and Colin were closer to me than 99% of my students and after they graduated I came out to both of them. Both have had meals in the gaybourhood although both are straight. Today, I joined them for an hour and a half over beer. There was a complete flow of conversation like I get very little of some days.
Today was one of those days on which I received a HUGE amount of conversation. I had lunch with Allan Poyntz. He told me a bit about Mr. Dueck. The flow of conversation, as always with Allan was excellent and we spent almost two hours together.
I also had Darren King come by my office. I LOVE THAT NAME and Darren is a student I kind of like. He has the most beautiful beard and long black hair. Little would he know I find him eye candy.
Another student with whom I had a conversation at the end of class is Shaun Vandeven. I unfortunately could not see him in my office when he wanted to see me but I agreed to see him Wednesday.
Finally, tonight I went to the Economics Association (student) dinner at the Mongolian Grill. I sat and talked to John Crowell who shows maturity beyond his years. I also find Derek Suen a happy guy who is bright and active but did not sit at the same table.
The other aspect of today - it was bloody bitter out there. In Toronto, there was no snow. However, I was faced with whiteouts near Milton both directions. It is scary when one can't see anything, when trucks go whizzing by on the right when you are in the right lane. I was physically and emotionally tired from my drive.
I am so glad sabbatical starts now.
