DIARY DAY
Tuesday, 14 November 2017
5:30 A.M. Up to pee and back to bed.
6:30 A.M. I get up, cut sweet potato, summer squash and zucchini to steam for breakfast.
7:00 A.M. Brush teeth, shave. I look in the mirror and think of the younger man I used to see. I’m 70 years old and wonder how I got to be this age. Where did the time go? A flash of memories go through my mind and I think of coming out as a gay man 20 years ago. I was married and had three children. How did I do it? I remember the fear, the lostness, the death of soul, the drive to come out no matter what the cost, the regret of what it meant for those I loved. I think of my two daughters and one son and their youth of being in their late 30’s and 40’s. They don’t know what they have in being young adults. I hope they capitalize on it, knowing that the process of life and responsibilities come along and steal it away. I tell them in my mind, “Enjoy your younger years while you have them. It goes so quickly.”
I shave, shower and dress. No need for good clothes. Work clothes are my choice: blue jeans, t-shirt, brown long-sleeve shirt and a red and black checkered quilted shirt to keep me warm on this chilly day. It’s 60 degrees in the house. We keep it that way normally.
For breakfast I wash our chicken’s eggs from yesterday. I pour a cup of Columbian coffee we buy specifically, because of its richer taste. I add heavy cream and a drop of NuSugar liquid sweetener. I look forward to this first cup of the day.
While the cast iron skillet heats for the eggs, I feel exhilarated and look forward to the day. I review my plans on sewing the binding on “A Silver Christmas” quilt I finished quilting last week, then work on another for my son. I pieced it two years ago and am preparing to quilt it. I must decide today on the design I’ll use.
7:45 A.M. Breakfast with my husband as we talk about the day. I’m reminded of how I enjoy these times together. I look after him and wave as he drives off to work.
8 A.M. I get the morning paper and read the news while sitting on the toilet and later while having my second cup of coffee.
8:30 A.M. I let our rare mixed breeds of 33 chickens and two geese out and check their water and feed. We have Rhode Island Reds, Ameraucanas, Belgian d’Uccles, Polish, Golden Laced Wyandottes and a Mille de Fleur bantam rooster. I feed one hen and her six (now grown) babies located in the granary. They hatched from eggs laid on our solar eclipse day in October. Three are black, one is white and two are a reddish-brown-and-black. They come up close and are underfoot. They are not fearful of me as most little ones are. I burn trash and take out the compost.
It’s a cold 33 degree morning and the air is crisp. The sun is shimmering its morning light on our small frosted pine tree, grass and what’s left of our flower garden in front of the 1949 white, hip roofed barn.
9:30 A.M. I put a load of clothes in the washer down in the basement.
9:20 A.M. I sit on the couch and sew binding on my quilt by hand while listening to Indiana Public Radio’s Morning Musicale by Steven Turpin.
I hear the ticking of the late 1800’s German wall pendulum clock in the background.
Some of the music I hear is:
“Children’s Corner Suite” by Debussy
“Concerto Grosso” B flat and G by Handel
“London Trio #3 and #4” by Manuel Ponce
As I’m binding, I think about being with my former wife last Friday helping our daughter clean the apartment she and her family are moving out of to a house they have purchased. During the drive taking her home, I told her I regretted having involved her and the kids in my coming-out process 20 years ago. the pain I caused them I’ve always regretted. She responded saying, “It’s something I had to deal with.” She reiterated her love for me and I for her and we talked about being grateful for the years we had together.
I often wonder how it all happened. Why couldn’t I see it clearer in my teens and 20s? I recount the disdained attitudes of our society, the criminal punishments for being gay, the church’s anti-gay stance that “those people” were going to hell, my misguided stereotype that all gay men wanted to be a woman. I didn’t want that, so I guessed I wasn’t gay. But what was going on with me? Craziness, yet, real. I remember feeling lost and confused not knowing who I was after she and I were married. This reels in my mind often. I can’t seem to get ahold of it. It haunts. Yet, I’m very happy. Being with my husband feels like my long lost self is finally together. I’m reunited with myself. That’s why I feel peaceful and like these quiet moments of music, creativity, ticking of the clock, quilting and generally being creative. I feel like I’m making up for 50 years of pushing away my creative self. I thought if I was creative it meant I was gay, so I pushed away creativity. I allowed myself to work with wood and build numerous things, but that was considered to be masculine.
While writing this I’ve listened to “Mayflowers” by Straus and “Toy Symphony” by Leopold Mozart.
11A.M. I finished the second side of the quilt binding. In my head I designed two pillowcases for the quilt on the bed and found that I have enough fabric left over to make matching pillowcases. I chose the fabric, ironed and cut it.
12:30 P.M. I put soup on for lunch and worked more on the pillowcases.
1 P.M. I folded clothes and put more in the wash. I washed dishes and sliced tomatoes for lunch.
1:30 P.M. My husband came home for lunch. The sun is shining wonderfully. The dining room table has been moved into the living room to make room for a quilt to be laid on the floor to get ready for quilting. We’re eating in the living room and having homemade vegetable soup, sliced tomatoes and frozen cranberry salad.
2:15 P.M. My husband left for work. I watched a video that offers some strategies helpful to my husband’s work on the volunteer project.
2:45 P.M. I wash dishes.
3 P.M. I spent time outside with cement coating some of the foundation blocks where water has be seeping through when it rains. Two times I heard what sounded like a chicken in distress, squawking and excited. I checked to see if a raccoon, coyote, owl or hawk was after them. I saw nothing. They were quiet in the chicken yard looking for bugs and worms.
I enjoy this time outside when it’s a comfortable 50 or 60 degrees and the sun is shinning. It reminds me growing up on the farm feeling the sun and wind and hearing the birds and animals. It was a peaceful time for me.
4:45 P.M. I washed the tools I used and put away the supplies. I hung up clothes in the basement to dry.
5 P.M. I came into the house to heat up more soup. I pinned and sewed one pillowcase.
5:20 P.M. My husband came home and we went out together to lock the chickens and geese in for the night. I told him about my afternoon.
5:45 P.M. We ate supper at our antique, oval oak table. We found it at an antique store about 17 years ago. It’s well used with burn marks and scratches on the top. It reminds us of another life it had with a family and lots of history we’ll never know. It’s our favorite table. We talk about his day at the office. I attempt to help him learn some strategies that will be useful for the volunteer project he is involved with.
6:15 P.M. I’m outside waving to him as he leaves for the volunteer project. I much rather him be at home after work. It seems I see little of him on project days. I lock the back door to feel more secure since we live rurally and are surrounded by trees. I always feel less secure at night when home alone.
7:30 P.M. I finish two pillowcases and put them on the bed. I’m pleased with my choices of fabric and that I had what I needed without buying more. It goes well with the quilt on the bed.
Lots of thoughts tonight while sewing. I do a lot of thinking during these projects. Sometimes I’m consumed with the rigors of the project and then sometimes my mind spends time on other issues. Tonight was one of those. I will sit down and write these out, but first I make cranberry cookies which I have intended to do for the past few days. During cookie making I thought about my earlier thoughts.
First batch of cookies are in the oven for 10 minutes.
My thoughts:
Going back to feelings of insecurity, I think about President Donald Trump and his ilk that he brought into Washington, D.C. His right wing, conservative Alt Right groups, white supremacy and white nationalist groups, ties to the Ku Klux Klan, anti-muslim, anti-gay and hate groups. Stopping immigrants from coming into the country, talk of a wall between Mexico and the U.S. to keep out undocumented Mexican and latino people raises concern for many people in the States. The news is consistently filled with mass shootings. Absence of gun laws abound. Gun sales escalating exponentially. Trump is erratic, egotistical, autocratic. He uses threat. He’s inexperienced in politics, not a leader, abusive to women, power hungry, wants more and more wealth for himself and his big business cronies and his biggest supporters. Where will this lead?
Being a gay man and living through the not so distant past where homosexuality was a criminal offense, I hear voices in Washington and other political arenas wanting to reverse the rights of gay people that have been granted the past few years. They are saying they want us to return to the status gays were in then. I know what it is to feel as though I’m being watched and even hunted by police because of being gay. When I was coming out I looked for ways of connecting with other men like me. There were only a few places one could go and one of them was at a local park. I would go just to be with someone like me. I knew if police were raiding I would be hauled into jail. I risked it though because I didn’t know where else to go.
Hiding was the only way to survive. I hid emotionally, socially always staying in the background and physically stayed by myself as much as possible. Now that gays can marry (my husband and I are married) there is a tracking record that anyone can find us. After the anti-Muslim, anti-immigrant threats, when will it be the gays turn? History screams at us that we are next in line. The guns I hear around our farm, people practicing their firearms, concern me. Will someone show up at our doorstep? I watch for cars going by listen to engine motors slowing down. We have a monitor at the entrance to our drive to detect motion, but one could walk through the yard to avoid the monitor detection.
Memories flash thought my mind when we have been targeted for being gay during the anthrax scare of the late 90’s, bashing our property regularly for a time, eggs thrown at the house, our porch being scorched by someone trying to set fire to the house, a person yelling “fag” at me from the road while I was sitting in my car in the driveway.
Constant vigilance is needed. Sometimes I feel like I’m complaining when in a group of heterosexuals and I’m trying to raise awareness of what it’s like to live as a gay man. To all appearances gay people can marry so now there’s no issue of prejudice nor any need for us to be fearful. Nothing could be further from the truth.
These are scary times. I ask myself how long will I be safe? It can turn on a dime. Will I be aware enough in advance to move myself from this situation, even this country, if the tide changes to where I need to find security elsewhere.
As I write this it sounds as if I’m paranoid. I assure you I am not. I’m not the only gay person feeling this.
9:15 P.M. Cookies are in and out every 12 minutes (10 wasn’t enough). Last batch is in and I’m eating for comfort! My husband will be home in 45 minutes.
9:30 P.M. I’m typing this into the computer.
10:30 P.M. My husband is driving in. We discuss his project experience. He admires my pillowcases. We get our vitamins out together, get ready for bed and lights out at 11:15 P.M. Both tired.