November 1990

 

Private Lives and Social Change

by Larry Wolf

It is mid-October. Maybe there will be
a frost tonight. The first real frost of the
year. The trees have traded their flaming
colors for a final spare coloring of browns
and yellows. Winter will be here soon.

In my house this is the beginning of the
armual rites of celebration. It begins with
the Fall Foliage (and the perennial question
of how to see the leaves and not getrun over
by the tourists - answered in partby moving
to the Northeast Kingdom a year ago). Then
there is Halloween, a truly pagan celebra-
tion of the harvest, of the spooks and spirits.
Pumpkins of all shapes and sizes are every-
where. A last desperate effort to keep the
dark of night at bay. Round about Thanks-
giving, the oranges and blacks give way to
the reds and greens of Christmas. Lights
and other decorations of all manner come
out of their hiding places and fill the house.
There is magic in the air as I light the
Hanukkah candles. A growing crescendo
of light, first one candle, then two, three
four, five, six, seven, eight! And a Final
burst of eating, gift-giving, wrapping pa-
per, and hugs to mark Christmas morning.
New Year's Eve has become a private time
for Craig and me. A time to close out the
holidays away from the glitz. Two men.
Together. After all is said and done.

This year I have other celebrations.
Craig and I have been partners for ten years.
A landmark event. I continue to be sur-
prised by how in love we still are, and how
that love has grown and matured over the
years. I am amused and amazed by how
different from each other we continue to be.
I always thought of couples, especially
same sex couples, as merging into one
personality as their lives came together.
Yet while we have learned to live in the
same house, we have certainly not become

each other. In fact, it is our differences, and
our ability to enjoy our differences, which
keeps the relationship so alive. The differ-
ences are a continual source of new per-
spectives and insights from a partner who,
though of the same sex, is very much not the
same mind or same spirit. It is the differ-
ences, coupled with the similarities, which
keep us together, keep us fresh, keep us
being able to offer something special to
each other. Year after year. Ten years.

After ten years of living with another
man, my lover, my friend, we have become
our own family.

Some of our family we are born with.
It seems to be part of the human condition.
My parents have pretty much let me live my
own life. I told them I was gay when I was
21. I was involved with an openly gay man.
I was discovering that there was a gay
world larger than the anxious fumblings of
the male friends with whom I was explor-
ing my sexuality, in a male liberation con-
text, but really in a vacuum which failed to
acknowledge that there was an existing gay
community. We were all so afraid of being
queer. Homo. You know.

Sol told my parents when I went home
for a long weekend, and then I headed down
to the city (Manhattan) in search of the
Oscar Wilde Bookstore and Gay Activists‘
Alliance. I found them both. I came home
with my arms full of books and pamphlets.
My parents were not happy with my ac-
tions. They told me I was surrounding
myself with advisors who were telling me
what I wanted to hear (what I Qggkgi to
bear, but not what they tl_;o_ug_l;1I needed to
hear); they told me that it was easy to pick
up a man for sex (not for me; I was still
afraid to go into a gay bar. I was looking for
romance and affection as much as sex);
they told me thatl would have a lonely life

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while I was thinking about my friends who
were happy that I had started living my
feelings and about my lover, who was such
a joy to be with.

The weekend ended. There was little
dialogue. We didn't know how to talk about
my life as it really was. I had spent years
trying to understand myself, being afraid to
share what I was feeling. To the extent to
which my parents may have been aware of
those feelings, they were wishing those
feelings would just go away.

Near the end of my visit, my father told
me to remember that I was always wel-
come, that his home was my home, that I
should not make this (it was hard for him to
name my gayness, as it had been hard for
me) an excuse to cut him out of my life.
That he hoped to see me soon.

That was eighteen years ago. I have
been home to visit my parents many times
since. I have shared with them the ups and
down of my life. Yet there are many ways
in which they are still distant because they
miss the mundane parts of my life. They
miss the miscellaneous details which make
the gay and lesbian community so "nor-
mal," so very much like any other commu-
nity within the larger society. And they also
miss the details which make the gay and
lesbian community so different, because
they are trying to protect me, because they
are trying to ignore my differences, be-
cause they want so much to love me. In a
family, the need for unconditional love and
the need for unconditional affirmation can
get turned into unconditional denial. Yet,
they recognize that Craig and I have a mar-
riage, that his family is now my family.

There are still painful times when the
pieces don't come together. This past July
my youngest sister was married. There was
(continued on page 13)

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