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”Out” and Servin our
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Janet Langdon, Mdiv, NCPsyA

Psychoanalysis

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Jungian orientation

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_jlies|@sover.net

birthday. It’s that kind of year:

creeping up on 30, on 40, on
50, on — . Well, maybe I’m a little
freaked, but only by the number,
because lemme tellya, 58 is filled
with new beginnings for me and.I
am elatedly surprised at how very
ready I am for them.

But isn’t “old dyke” the
only term in the English language
that’s worse than “old faggot?”

Maybe to an uneducated
straight. To those of us lucky
enough to be gay, they are terms
of affection, respect and even
awe. When I was a baby dyke I
wanted nothing more than to be

I‘ thought I’d freak on my 58th

' an old dyke, someone who’d

been around the block a few
times and looked like an aging
Peter Pan. And now here I_am,
getting closer to old dykedom
and still having the time of my
life along the way. _

Everything is new! Car,
home,_ job, relationship,.even my
body — which has shed most of
its aches and pains like an old
skin even while adding the extra
weight recommended after
menopause. If you’d told me five
years ago that a) everything in
my life would change and b) I
would survive the changes and
come out the other side rejuve-
nated, I would have raised an
eyebrow and said, “Yeah. Right.”
Life is just a proving ground, and
we get to prove our stuff over
and over. The thought can be
daunting, but it’s kind of cool that
no matter how low our reserves
seem, there’s always something
to draw on.

Take the new car. The
old one had only 105,000 miles
on it, so I was blown away to
learn how much more it would
cost to fix when it stopped run-
ning. I know, I know, I was
warned that Ford stood for Fix Or
Repair Daily, but I wanted an
American car for once. So there I
was with the car that’s supposed
to last me till retirement and it’
dead in the water. ‘

My consolation prize
was a new Toyota Matrix. These
are basically staid old Toyota
wagons, but redesigned to appeal

Id Dykes,oid Faggots

 

to younger drivers. Like me. It
looks like some kind of space
pod that was mated with the old
French Citroen to drive like a
Jeep. The last 2003 they had on
the lot was red. The radio can
blast the windows open it’s got
such good bass. Motor Vehicles
sent me a plate whose letters are
ZPY. In other words, check it out:
someone old
enough to remem-
ber Citroen is
driving that flashy
ride!

And then
there’s the rela-
tionship — but I’m
so astonished to be
in one that I can’t
begin to talk about
it. Just don’t
believe anything —
and I mean any-
thing — they say
about post-
menopausal ’
women.
Experience, self-
knowledge and a
mature, solidly grounded lover go
a lot further in my book than one
impetuous, dewy-eyed young
thing bringing out another. No
matter what your age, love is
love, romance is romance, pas-
sion is passion. Saving the best

~ for last has taken on a new mean-

ing for me.

I feel like a living rebut-
tal of the Alone Myth. We’ve all
heard it, how old dykes and old
faggots are going to spend their
declining days alone and die
alone and friendless in a hostile
world, but that’s not what I’m
seeing. Au contraire, I know or
hear about too many lonely and

bitter old hets living for their
grown children and grandchildren
and struggling with feelings of
uselessness, of being left out.
Meanwhile, gay women
and men who have lost loved _
ones to death or to the thousand

other circumstances that can iso- \ \

late us, seem more prepared than
our het counterparts to start over
— it’s not the first time for most
of us. Often rejected by birth
families, we have created gay
families throughout our lives and
they continue to evolve around us
as we age. We don’t spend time
with our gayelders or juniors out
of duty either, but with the exu-
berance that comes from discov-
ering real kinfolk. -
' Was it just a month or"
two ago I that I was getting lost -
in my kitchen, afraid of a steadily

When I was a:‘: :
baby-dyke

I wanted nothing
more than to be':*‘

an old dyke, someone
who'd been around‘
the block a few times ’

and looked like

an aging Peter Pan.

declining memory? That news of ’

yet another friend retiring was
discouraging? I am not an old
dyke by any means, but I’m
beginning to understand my full .

powers. The book I’m finishing is 
decidedly not my last — I am so ' '

anxious to start the new one that A
I’ve covered several feet of wall
with poster-puttied notes.

And my job — it’s evolv-
ing into exactly the kind of career
I’ve always wanted. Researching

labor statistics may not be every- '

one’s cup of tea, but after too .
many years of providing direct
services, I get to do the research, .
the writing — the fun stuff.

Motor Vehicles >>