CIJS
well, damn, C, just found out what happened to you. You were one of the very first gay people I met when I came out. You were a senior as I recall, and I was a little intimidated. You were also very outgoing and friendly and more than a little outrageous. Pretty surprising for me in the Midwest in '75. I even remember your autograph on the volley ball, and it even noted your 'specialty'. When I asked what it entailed (in a scene foreshadowing something I've certainly turned around here many, many times) you pulled out the office copy of The Queen's Vernacular. I wasn't allowed to take it back to read (nor would I have dared to at the time, lest I be discovered with it) but I read as much as I could in the office.
As a senior, you were eager to graduate and get the hell out of the Midwest, and I sure couldn't blame you for that.
Since this was pre internet and social media, once you moved, I only rarely heard about what you were doing, and after I moved on, didn't hear anything more. Recently I recalled your middle name and then could use the computer to find out where you were or what became of you; and damn, I did find out.
Died in '85, you had precisely 10 years to live when I met you the first time. Even found your NAMES project quilt panel, damn. My 'rule' is, people I met that I've lost track of I assume are doing fine till I know otherwise. So here you are, over 31 years later, I'm up to speed. I would have found out sooner had S, or K, or J lived longer, but that didn't happen either.
And nearly 42 years after we met, I still don't know if you're related to a family a relative of mine married in to, LOL. I remember asking you, and you had no idea, and didn't care either. Your plan after college was to get to Cali and never return; like so many of us, your 'blood' family mattered so much less than the friendships you made after leaving home.
Well, I remember you, wish I had either talked to you more back then, or maybe remember more of what we did talk about.
I have my own copy of Queen's Vernacular now (retitled in mine and later editions as Gay Talk) and I can't look at it with out thinking of you, and yes, I know the definition of your 'specialty' by heart.
Thanks . . . . .
well, damn, C, just found out what happened to you. You were one of the very first gay people I met when I came out. You were a senior as I recall, and I was a little intimidated. You were also very outgoing and friendly and more than a little outrageous. Pretty surprising for me in the Midwest in '75. I even remember your autograph on the volley ball, and it even noted your 'specialty'. When I asked what it entailed (in a scene foreshadowing something I've certainly turned around here many, many times) you pulled out the office copy of The Queen's Vernacular. I wasn't allowed to take it back to read (nor would I have dared to at the time, lest I be discovered with it) but I read as much as I could in the office.
As a senior, you were eager to graduate and get the hell out of the Midwest, and I sure couldn't blame you for that.
Since this was pre internet and social media, once you moved, I only rarely heard about what you were doing, and after I moved on, didn't hear anything more. Recently I recalled your middle name and then could use the computer to find out where you were or what became of you; and damn, I did find out.
Died in '85, you had precisely 10 years to live when I met you the first time. Even found your NAMES project quilt panel, damn. My 'rule' is, people I met that I've lost track of I assume are doing fine till I know otherwise. So here you are, over 31 years later, I'm up to speed. I would have found out sooner had S, or K, or J lived longer, but that didn't happen either.
And nearly 42 years after we met, I still don't know if you're related to a family a relative of mine married in to, LOL. I remember asking you, and you had no idea, and didn't care either. Your plan after college was to get to Cali and never return; like so many of us, your 'blood' family mattered so much less than the friendships you made after leaving home.
Well, I remember you, wish I had either talked to you more back then, or maybe remember more of what we did talk about.
I have my own copy of Queen's Vernacular now (retitled in mine and later editions as Gay Talk) and I can't look at it with out thinking of you, and yes, I know the definition of your 'specialty' by heart.
Thanks . . . . .
The granting of a pardon is an imputation of guilt, and the acceptance a confession of it.