Where the hell did February go?! I know that February is a scant four week but shouldn't I at least feel like a month has gone by. The Ides of March are soon upon us (March 15th for those who remember their ancient Roman history), and I am not prepared for the multiple chapters opening and closing in my life. Perhaps it is fitting that we are forced in doors by a gentle spring rain storm, a recipe for self reflection if ever there was one. Keiko, our dog found in a woodpile in Durham NC, sits at my feet as I ponder the chapters opening and closing in my life.
The first chapter is the possibility to finish my doctorate. St. Mary's College in Moraga (
St. Mary's College of California) has a program for working professionals and I'm hoping to be accepted. It's only sixteen miles away and easy to access without ever having to go on a freeway. Yes, it is a Catholic College, but so far they have assured me that completing a dissertation focused on Gay and Lesbian Superintendents is in keeping with their efforts to increase the diversity in the program (
Middle Aged White Guy? Not so diverse, but add the word gay? Now it's a party!) Those La Sallian Catholics are not like the Roman Catholics for sure. The real draw is that they will accept about half of my units from UNC, Chapel Hill, which means the tuition and the time spent in classes will also be about half. It does mean giving up several weekends a month and several weekends during the summer. I feel somewhat obligated to finish this thing, not only because Med and Rusty both would have to call me Dr. Lewis but because a few months before my father passed away, he expressed a great deal of pride in the fact that there was a doctorate in our family...I reminded him that my degree was not completed. He said he knew I would finish...talk about your pressure!
Another chapter? My divorce is final. Wha...what? Did he say divorce? Weird huh? It's a long story, so sit back, pour yourself a cup of Joe, and pretend I'm telling you this about someone else...a younger, skinnier, more insecure, 20 year old version of myself.
The mid to late 80's were turbulent times, I was in the military, had treated my first real straight "relationship" pretty damn badly (a great story for another time) and had recently gone to my first gay bar in Frankfurt, Germany. Living in the barracks was a nightmare of course, truly difficult going out to gay bars and coming home to a bunch of red neck, homophobic, hypocritical, military assholes (many of whom slept with my other gay friends on the side - go figure).
(Young Military Skank - Cest Moi)
(These last two pictures are not from Germany, they are from before I got to Germany but I thought I might show off some dress greens for your perusal).
Suzette Bruney took me to my first gay bar. Suzette (and Julio - another Private in the Company) really became my gay mentors. She introduced me to all of the Military Police (MP) lesbians - an essential crowd to know, when Central Investigations personnel were in the bars witch hunting gays, the lesbian MPs knew them and would warn everyone to chill, preventing the possibility of arrest.
(A photo of my friend Jeanne and I in the cold German rain).
Suzette and I started to talk about getting married...we were so young so of course the list of why we should do this was much longer than the why not. The reasons varied but essentially we both wanted to be with our respective "lovers" and couldn't think of another way to do that. I was with Horst, a German national with a huge heart and an infinite amount of patience for a young soldier new to the gay scene. And Suzette was partnered with a Sergeant from a neighboring town. The scrutiny of the barracks was too much for both of us. Our plans included eventually getting out of the military and moving together to some Southern town to become television repair people based on our military field radio repair training, or some such nonsense. Horst and her Sergeant girlfriend were going to join us after they got married too. By the way, an aside, I was awful at field radio repair. The irony of wanting to go into electronics is not lost on me by any stretch of the imagination.
So, off to Stubbakobing Denmark for a small village wedding and a chance to receive BAQ funding. We found an attic apartment just far enough away from the Kaserne to avoid any chance of running into others. The apartment was furnished. We bought an old Mercedes to get to and from base. Every element of this was a recipe for disaster; two gay military personnel, cheap beer, very small one bedroom apartment, volatile young twenties personalities. When ETS time came, I was sent to Ft. Hood, Texas. The Sarge was soon to follow, and Suzette was soon after. Horst wisely called me to break up. My first real heart wrenching tortured break up. After that long distance phone call I spent the whole evening driving around Ft. Hood with the tape player of my Jeep playing When In Rome - "The Promise". The tears streamed down my face with a vengeance, who knew I was capable of that level of emotion?
I was finally discharged, honorably from my four year military nightmare (pacifists really shouldn't join the military). Horst was still in Germany and would remain there, Suzette was in Texas getting ready to reenlist having broken up with Sarge, and I decided to take my meager belongings and soft top Jeep back to California. Suzette, Sarge, Horst and I lost touch despite a few phone calls early on and a few half hearted attempts to find everyone over the years.
About eight months ago, Suzette sent a note out of the blue to me from her home near Columbia, South Carolina. She found me through a person with access to a national data base. I called and we spent some time reminiscing and laughing before broaching the subject of divorce. Both of us felt we should finally take care of this so I called a lawyer, Jennie, and we filled in the paperwork. Six months later, the divorce is final.
A few side notes and regrets: Horst is also on this blog list now as a few years ago he sent me an email and we have been in contact since. I'm thrilled to have him back as part of my life as I have always regretted the way things turned out, most of all for Horst. Although I love Rusty, Horst will always have the distinction as the first man to break my heart, a bittersweet distinction to be sure.
I regret making a mockery of marriage, especially as the gay community works so hard to secure this basic right. In defense, we were young and not very insightful (I didn't say it was a good defense!). I really regret lying to my family at the time, although as far as skeletons go, this is probably not the biggest one in our own Lewis family closet.
I look back on that time as if it were someone else in that skin. A different person altogether. Mistakes were made, hateful words were said, and lessons were learned. The chapter isn't completely closed because I hope to reestablish relationships with people from a time in my life I loved and still love deeply. Wow, what a catharsis, now let us never speak of this again.
Every novel has a chapter or two of excessive and over indulgent fun, and this chapter is dedicated to our host for an absolutely scrumptious over indulgence, Dave. He provided an all access pass to the Academy of Friends, through his company Merryl Lynch. The wine and champagne were flowing as a big screen displayed the Academy Awards Show. Several live "Oscars" adorned the entrance and the stage...as costumed people walked across the stage posing and mock spanking each other with riding crops...did I love it? No, not until I had a few drinks, then it was brilliant. The company was flawless...thanks to Dave and Zeke for the invite, and to Mario and Barry for predrinks, and to Matt and Ryan for their humor! The evening was spent sampling appetizers and enjoying cocktails. What an awesome night! Quite frankly, we didn't see much of the academies, but I did get to see people bid on a Nick Lachey signed t-shirt, if only I had the money. Rubbin' elbows above the Hoi Polloi with the A-Gays of San Fran, does life get any better?
Sometimes chapters have seemed to drag on forever. Since last fall, we have been working on the deck. We are on the verge of completion. One more good rain free day, and the deck will be completed. Many have tried to remind me that having built this ourselves, we certainly will appreciate it more. After months of working on it every weekend, Rusty's broken ribs, a smashed thumb and exhausted evenings after carrying tons of wood and cement, it is hard to believe we will have appreciated building this ourselves. Perhaps the day is soon at hand when I won't spend the weekend hammering and sawing, rather walk onto the deck, have a delicious cocktail and lounge in the sun. Then I may even admit that it was worth the effort.
(Carole Ann, bring me the ax!)
(Back breaking cement work...ugggggg!)
(Gotta love the wood!)
(Every structure needs supports...pictured is the infamous rib breakin' ladder)
(Rotted wood from the old deck...)
(Can you believe we used to sit on this wood...before a few days of set back due to repairs)
(And finally, standing on a deck)
(Stairs, finally a path to the yard)
Hopefully we'll get a few clear days to finish the deck...Wish us luck on the city clearing our permit! We have the invites out for our Mardi Gras deck party...Photos soon to follow.
Chapters opening and closing aside, I look forward to the spring and all of the changes happening.
