Blessings of Brotherhood

A couple of weeks ago I had a wonderful experience that I wanted to share with you. I was buying some stuff at a store and noticed that the cashier who was about to ring up my purchases looked like a friend of mine, which gave me warm feelings toward him even though we'd never met. But I decided to treat him as a friend and not a stranger. Our eyes locked as I walked up to the counter and said "How are you?" as if we were old friends.

We both smiled. His facial expression matched my hopes. He looked back into my eyes as if we did know each other.  Debit or credit, he asked. I said debit and, as if I had seen him in a variety of different shirts and ties over the years, I said, "You know that shirt and tie really look great on you. You ought to wear that combination more often." Our eyes again locked and he said, "Well thanks, bud, I will." He handed me my stuff and I said "Have a good one" and he said "You, too." It was probably over in less than a minute, but it was one of those sweet moments I hope I'll always remember.

Today when I saw the real friend that this guy reminded me of, I wanted to give him a big hug and say, "I love you so much." But he doesn't like hugs and I don't usually tell straight guys I love them, so we just talked about our weekends.

Later today I saw another friend. This time he was the one who kept making eye contact. As we talked I noticed his white teeth, his full lips, his neatly trimmed beard, the way his shirt hung on his shoulders, and then right in the middle of the conversation a kind of miracle happened. He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.  I've always felt affection toward this man--another happily married fellow--but today he was the one who physically touched me. What a blessing.

I'm curious about the experiences you, my moho friends, have with your straight friends. Do you also restrain yourself? Do you also find that sometimes a friend's touch is like a gift from God himself?

Alone but not Lonely

(Gay) Mormon Guy's post about Fitting In prompted me to write the following. I figured I might as well share it here and ask for your thoughts and insights.


Hey MG, 

First of all since I don't know your name, I hope you're OK with MG as nick name. If not let me know and I'll abide by your wishes.

Second, I relate to your post. Even when I am among friends and family, I sometimes feel the same as you, like I don't fit it. So here's the little talk I sometimes have with myself. "You are unique. You are one of a kind. Even if you had an exact twin, your spirits would be different. Enjoy the difference, but also be aware of how much we share. All of us on this planet are brothers and sisters. We are all subject to hunger, thirst, fatigue and loneliness. None of us is exempt, but no matter what our situation at any given moment, we have opportunities to respond, not just to react, but to draw upon our God-given talents and abilities and feel the connection we share with the other mere mortals in our proximity." 

Third, do I always do this? Of course not. It is an ideal. But it is worth striving for. Some people may characterize this approach as "fake it until you make it" but that's not what I'm advocating. I'm saying that sharing our authentic and sometimes vulnerable feelings can sometimes help another person and ourselves feel more at ease, more accepted.

Fourth, at this moment I am sitting in a darkened room. A small amount of light is glowing from my laptop screen. The other light is from the Christmas lights hanging outside my windows. I've opened all the blinds so I can see the snowstorm. I am alone, but I don't feel lonely because I know you'll be reading this message later, and although we've never met I consider you a friend. 

Fifth, I know that conditions outside are cold and dangerous, but I choose to see the beauty. The room would be warmer if I closed the blinds, but then I'd miss the beauty of the storm. I hope this finds you warm and happy. I hope it will brighten your outlook in someway and I hope you will know and feel that you are not alone.


(End of Message to MG)


So what do you think? How do you deal with fitting in or not fitting in? How do you feel when you're inside and you know that snow is softly falling outside?

The Men in My Life

I don't really know when I started to notice them, the men in my life. It was probably before I could talk. The first men I noticed were my dad, my grandpas, uncles and neighbors. Sometimes they'd whisker me. That made me love my mom's soft face, but later I would hunger for their whiskers again. I would long for their whiskers so badly that any whiskers would do. Maybe that's why I loved that old song Razor Face so much as a teenager. Maybe that's why I'm still fascinated by beards and sideburns, even as my own fade from brown with a little red, to grey with a lot of white.

What I felt as a small child, as best I can remember it anyway, was safe and protected. As I grew a little older, I found that boys, especially older boys, could sometimes be mean, but they weren't men. They were just boys.

When I started to become a man myself, I sometimes doubted myself. I might look like a man. I might have a man's voice and his strength. I might even be manly to some, but am I just pretending. It took a long time for me to understand that a man can still sometimes feel like a child. That that's OK sometimes.

I've been blessed with so many good men in my life. Men who have helped me learn and grow and be myself. Even mean men who have helped me learn what I wanted to be, because they were jerks. That also took a while to figure out.

I've never had a lover man. But I sure have had some good friends. I've had a lot of crushes on men over the years. I still do. But I don't crush on everyone. Some men and just there and I'm pretty chill about it. They might be friends or acquaintences, neighbors or quorum brothers, even some bloggers I've never met. I'm comfortable around them, for the most part, because they're just part of the environment, with only a little bit more presence than furniture. I'm glad there are many of them. They make life stable and comfortable.

But then there are the men who mean something more. We may or may not know each other, but these are the men I notice. Sometimes I feel that here in the blogosphere, too. There's sometimes just something about the way a fellow writes that intrigues me. I work with some of these kinds of intriguing men, too. I go to church with some of these men. I have some friendships with some of these men. I notice when they're around, and sometimes when they're not. I notice what they wear, and whether they've shaved, and if they seem happy or not, and how they smell and what they say and don't say.

I notice their eyes and their voices. Sometimes when they talk my mind wanders. I sometimes hear the sound of their voices more than I listen to their words. This can be dangerous in the workplace. I might miss something I really do need to know.

There was a time when I thought I don't want to feel this feeling, I don't want this buzz, this attraction. I can't handle it. I don't want it. I want it to go away. I guess that could happen to me again someday, but I'm glad I've gotten used to this something, this quality that is as life affirming as water, food, breath, shelter, warmth or beauty.

And so my thoughts circle back around to shelter, safety, protection. Is that what I feel when I'm sitting alone like the guy in the Steve Walker painting, alone but not all alone, feeling the spirit of those I love and those who love me?

Inexplicable Tears

You can coverup brown eyes with blue or even green contacts. I've never tried it, but sometimes I've wanted to. I'm right handed but sometimes I try to write with my left hand. It makes me feel like a kid again. Not a happy kid, but a kid I can identify with. Why should it matter to me that someone I don't even know keeps deleting people from his phone and his Facebook accounts. That shouldn't bug me, should it? But it does.

I feel close to God when I pray. I sometimes feel close to God when others pray. I usually can be found attending church on Sundays, but that doesn't mean I believe everything I'm hearing. I was suicidal almost a decade ago and I've made progress in getting much healthier mentally and physically, but lately I think that I'm not going to do anything to cause myself to die an early death, but hey, if I end up in a fatal accident or with some terminal illness and if I died sooner rather than later, well that would be OK. Maybe I'd get to meet Stuart of some other people I miss.

Sometimes I get down on myself for all the meds I take. Do I really need all this stuff? But wow, if I go a few days without taking my antidepressants, I definitely notice my mood darkening. I don't think I've ever been this honest in any of my earlier blog entries. I pride myself on having something positive to say. But maybe that's sometimes like wearing blue contacts when you've really got brown eyes.

I've got so much to be grateful for. I really do. I'm sitting here using all ten fingers to type with for crying out loud. Yes, my feet and toes are cold, but I've got both feet and five toes on each foot. The truth is I can't see very well without my glasses, but sometimes it's nice just to take them off and let the world be blurry. It's really cool that I can blog and that I have a few friends and acquaintences who read this. I'm glad for the contact.

Four of you I've actually met face-to-face. I'm grateful for that. You've seen me. You've seen the thinning hair and the thick glasses and it didn't seem to matter to you. I'm glad I'm not invisible. I've also chatted on line with some of you that I haven't met. I've seen your faces in pictures but you haven't seen mine, and yet still we've had some pretty good talks, haven't we? I guess it's silly to think about people deleting people. Only God and murderers do that. Just because someone deletes a name doesn't mean a person has been deleted. I guess I needed to talk through that to make myself feel better.

For some reason right now I have tears in my eyes. It's not like I'm sobbing or anything. I'm not sure if these are tears of sadness or gratitude. Maybe both. I don't taste my tears often enough to know what they taste like. It always surprises me that they're not as salty as I imagine them to be.

I don't mind all that much that it's cold and dark outside. I got outside into the sunshine several times in the course my day today. I expect to see the sun again tomorrow and I'll go to church and I'll feel the spirit, not necessarily because of what's said, but because the music is someething I grew up with and be with people who are trying, for the most part, to be kind.

First Crush

Ned: I don't really want to write about my first crush.

Shawn: Why not? I bet it would be an interesting story.

Ned: You're right it would be interesting, but I'm afraid.

Shawn: What are you afraid of? You don't seem to me like the kind of guy who is intimidated by fears. Anyone who has lived the life you have can hold his head up high.

Ned: Well Shawn that just goes to show that you've seen the me I want you to see.

Shawn: But I want to see more. That's why your first crush story might be a good idea to tell. Hey, I'll
respect your privacy. It's not like I'm going to go publish a blog about what you tell me.

Ned: Thanks for that. I know I can trust you. After all I created you from the guys I've trusted and loved and yes, crushed upon.

Shawn: Was I your first crush?

Ned: You're way too young for that, but you could have been if I'd met you back in the seventh grade.

Shawn: Was that when you first crushed?

Ned: You really want to know, don't you? Well I'll tell you what I can. It's kind of silly really.

Shawn: Quit worrying, just tell me, if you want to that is.

Ned: Well his name was and is Kent. He lived in my ward but since I hardly ever went to church, I hadn't seen him for a long time. Maybe I'd seen him, but I hadn't noticed him. He must have been a couple of years older. So when I hit seventh grade he was a ninth grader and I really hadn't seen him, or noticed him like I said, for a couple of years.

So it was fall and it was my first couple of days of junior high. I enrolled in a Seminary class and I was walking to class at the Seminary building. I'm about 25 feet from the front door and the door opens and Kent walks out. It was one of those moments that almost takes on a surreal, slow motion feeling when I look back on it. He's alone. He's carrying his books.

The first thing I notice is not that it's Kent but that there's his tall, incredibly handsome 9th grader walking out the doors. And then I notice it's Kent, the guy in my ward. He's the same person, but he's not little anymore, but he's way different, he's tall, dark and handsome, just like the cliche that now didn't seem so corny all of a sudden.

He's got thick curly hair and the most wonderful brown eyes, and he's laughing and happy and moves like a gazelle. He's easy and confident in his stride. He likes himself and I instantly like this new Kent I'd hardly even noticed before.

I couldn't take my eyes off of him and it really was the first time I'd ever noticed such a strong feeling about another guy, other than maybe when I dreamed about Jesus.

Shawn: Did he talk to you? What did you do?

Ned: I really don't remember. He might have said hello. Or maybe it's just that our eyes met. Or maybe not even that. He might not even have seen or acknowledged seeing me. I just know I saw him and I thought "Oh my gosh, that's Kent and he's incredibly wonderful now. I can't believe how tall and handsome he is. He didnt' just look good, he looked great."

Shawn: And, yes, so what happened?

Ned: I went to class. I didn't talk to him and I tried to not think about him, but it was useless. Something about Kent not only caught my eye, but it branded itself into my gut. You remember the old TV series "Branded?" It had this song, "Branded, scorned was the one who ran, what do yo do when you're branded and you know you're a man."

Shawn: No clue about that. It never made it into the reruns.

Ned: I sometimes forget my advanced age especially when I think about Kent.

Shawn: So what else? Did you guys get to know each other? Was he like a big brother to you?

Ned: No, nothing like that. I was too intimidated. I may have seen him many times after that, I don't know. But the scene that I remember is just what I told you.

Shawn: That's it. No story. No more details?

Ned: That's all that happened. Just a few seconds on the way to Seminary. But it was powerful and memorable because it was the first time I thought, "Wow, I really like boys." I'd had elementary school girlfriends, but they were just fun and pretty and I liked talking to them. But with Kent the feeling was instant and strong and unforgettable. Are you familiar with the musical "Sunset Boulevard" and the song "With one Look"?

Shawn: Sorry bud, you know I'm not really into show tunes. If you ask me about basketball players and sports stats I can get into trivia with you. But tell me anyway. What were you going to say?

Ned: Well the song is sung by Norma Desmond. She's an aging star of the silent era and she's remembering and describing how audiences reacted to her beauty and talent. Here's what she sings:

With one look I can break your heart
With one look I play every part
I can make your sad heart sing
With one look you'll know all you need to know

With one smile I'm the girl next door
All the love that you've hungered for
When I speak it's with my soul
I can play any role

No words can tell the stories my eyes tell
Watch me when I frown, you can't write that down
You know I'm right, it's there in black and white
When I look your way, you'll hear what I say

Yes, with one look I put words to shame
Just one look sets the screen aflame
Silent music starts to play
One tear in my eye makes the whole world cry.

Shawn: Umm, that real nice Ned, but I don't get it. What does that have to do with your first crush?

Ned: Well Kent didn't even give me one look, or if he did I don't remember it, but just seeing him, just being within a few feet of him had that kind of emotional power that Norma is singing about. Those few seconds didn't break my heart, but they revealed my heart to me. I'd found guys interesting before, but suddenly there was this compelling element.

I'd heard about guys going through puberty and suddenly noticing girls in a different way. Girls who hadn't been that interesting before suddenly became different, wonderful, noticeable. The world changed. Like in the Wizard of Oz when the sepia becomes Technicolor.

Shawn: I remember when the Wizard of Oz used to be shown on TV, like every year, sure. But it's such a long movie, I'd say, "Oh here we go again." If it was good weather, I'd go outside and try to find someone to throw a football around with or shoot hoops or play catch with a softball and my favor mitt. Man I loved that mitt. But I do remember my sisters were really into the Wizard of Oz.

Ned: So in the film, the color pallet changes from black and white to color.

Shawn: Yeah, you said that already, so why is that such a big deal? I'm trying to follow you here Ned, I really am.

Ned: Well when I saw Kent that first time when I was in seventh grade the color didn't change. I didn't break my stride. But inside something definitely changed that was just a dramatic as black and white changing to color.

Shawn: To be honest with you Ned, I still don't get it, but I can tell it's important to you. It does reminds me that I do remember dancing with girls when I was in junior high. They did seem differernt to me and I can remember with one it was pretty cool cause were dancing close and I started to get a hard on and then when I went to take a piss later there was this little wet spot on my boxers, precum. Pretty cool I felt like I was quite the stud. Was it like that? You physically reacted to him?

Ned: No, not there and then. I was going to Seminary for crying out loud. I wasn't dancing with him. I wouldn't even have thought of dancing with him. But yeah, probably later when I thought about him, when I was lying in bed at night, I might have started to get hard. But I wouldn't let myself think about those things, not in real life. But in my dreams, yeah. It wasn't with girls, and that was when I started to know I wasn't like most guy, because for me the excitment was with not with girls but with someone like Kent, not Kent himself, he was untouchable, but someone like him, someone in my imagination, and it was a guy not a girl.

Shawn: OK well that does fit a little better with my idea of how a first crush might start out.

Ned: There's something else I want to tell you. Many years later, decades later, I was walking through an office buildlng and I saw Kent's name on the door of this tiny little office off in the corner in a dark hallway and it brought all this back instantly.

I could see through the glass door that he was in there behind his desk. So I knocked, and he looked up and motioned for me to come in. I introduced myself and he remembered me from being in his ward all those years ago. I asked him about his family and he asked me about mine. I was in there maybe five minutes max.

Shawn: What was that like?

Ned: It was strange. He wasn't at all like I had remembered and idealized him. He'd lost his most of his thick curly, sandy brown hair and what was left was thinning and gray. His face was puffy and he wore thick bifocal glasses. He had big color photo of his wife and kids by his computer. When he stood up to shake my hand he was no longer taller than me and what I'm sure used to be washboard abs had melted into a gut hidden behind a tired white shirt and a tie that should have been donated to Deseret Industries.

My beautiful handsome Kent had turned into a middle aged man with gut--not a big beer belly, but a gut nonetheless--just like the one I carry around.

And when he touched me--the handshake that is--there was no magic, no electricity. It was just a handshake, it wasn't firm and manly, just kind of soft and half hearted like years in that little, cramped office had drained all the vitality out of this once virile young man who was now just an old married man like me, doing his best to provide for his family, working a job he probably wasn't exactly in love with, but he did love his wife and kids and so it was all OK. He was being true to his loves and his loved ones and I had to respect him for that.

Shawn: So basically meeting him was a disappointment?

Ned: Not entirely. I know I keep comparing this whole thing to the movies, but do you know that scene from Hook where the boys in Neverland are trying to figure out if Robin Williams really is a grown up version of Peter Pan.

Shawn: Sorry Ned, it's another movie moment I seem to have missed. Ask me about the NBA or the NFL and I'd be right there with you. But go ahead, tell me anyway.

Ned: Well here's the setup and the line is from this little kid named Pockets, one of the lost boys who don't believe Peter Banning is Peter Pan, but Pockets touches his Peter's face and looks into his eyes and finally recognizes him and says "Oh, there you are, Peter!"

It was like that in Kent's office, I didn't touch his face, of couse, but as we talked I looked into his eyes and behind the thick glasses it was like "Oh, there you are, Kent!" But of course I didn't saying anything.

Shawn: So you guys became friends as adults?

Ned: Not really. I mean we'd say hello if we saw each other, I've seen him a couple of times and we have said hello. But no, he's not my good pal or anything.

Shawn: So do still have a crush on him?

Ned: Again it's yes and no. There's very little chemistry between the adult Ned and the adult Kent. I mean he's a nice guy and I don't dislike him, but I'd never seek him out. But that moment as he walked out of the Seminary building, that moment when I knew without a doubt that I really, really liked guys, that moment is still very real and alive. So yes, in that sense, 13-year-old Ned still has a crush on 15-year-old Kent. It's not just a memory. It's still real in a cinematic sort of way.

Shawn: Are you glad you told me?

Ned: Yeah. Thanks for listening. You know someday when we have more time, I'll have to tell you about some other crushes I've had and one I have right now.

Shawn: Let me guess. It's probably for this tall younger man who cares more about sports than old movies.

Ned: (silence)

Shawn: My guess is that one of your current crushes is on this entirely straight young father you'd like to talk to, and sometimes do talk with, but you often feel shy when you're around him. He's pretty comfortable with you, but you're not so comfortable with him. It's like you're afraid that if he knew the real you, you think he'd have nothing to do with you. That's my guess, but it's just a guess.

Ned: Not bad, Shawn, not bad at all, but hey I gotta go. Thanks for your time, though. It's always good to be with you. Tell your sweet wife and kids hello for me.

Are you feeling SAD?

One of our fellow bloggers has written how I sometimes feel at this time of year, "I'm tired and grumpy." In response, I wrote the following and decided to cross post it here:

As far as feeling in a gray zone, that is typical

for many people as we get into the darkest time of the year. Take a look at this article on SAD. My winter routine is to try to get outdoors for a few minutes on my lunch hour when the sun is shining. Exercise also helps. I know your mileage may vary. No matter the cause, feeling gray or disconnected is hard--be it at Christmastime or the 4th of July. Fortunately we live in an age when many positive options are available to take advantage of. What options do you see that might help?"

What do you my reader(s) say? Any other ideas to carry this discussion forward?

Handshakes, Hugs and Other Connections

Today at church I sought to reach out to people. I smiled more, said more hi-how-are-ya's, spoke up during a silence in our quorum discussion, and I physically touched more people, mostly men, than I usually would.

This wasn't so much a conscious decision at the time, but now I think I understand my motives. I wanted to feel a greater sense of connection. I wanted to treat others as I want to be treated. I'd read an old blog of Beck's this week about a young blond fellow who caught his eye while vacationing with his wife. Today as I sat in church with my wife, a 20-something similar to the guy in Beck's blog (below) walked in and sat about six rows in front of us. Later he introduced himself as a newly-wed member of our ward during Priesthood opening exercises. As he left to attend Elder's Quorum I made eye contact, said hello, reached out to shake his hand, welcomed him and introduced myself. In HP group I sat by a man we home teach and in back of two older fellows who have always been kind to me. After the lesson, I just lingered. I put my hand on the shoulder of the man in front of me and he turned around, we shook hands, smiled and warmly talked. I'd put my left hand on the top of the bench and he placed his right hand on mine just a few seconds.

After church there were more handshakes and back slapping, some I originated, some that sought me out. No hugs today, but it was a good warmup. If I want to the world and myself to be less homophobic about male-to-male touch, maybe I can make a small difference even if it is just one Sunday at a time.