Last Words

So, how have you been?

I've been okay. Finally got over the simmering anger that I was having at work. I realized that no one really wants to hear my suggestions or ideas, so I don't give them unless I ask. Jeez, I could have avoided a lot of problems during my life if I'd followed that dictum.

Sometimes it takes a long time for us to change our ways. 

I realized my anger was because of all the things around me that I could see needed to be changed or improved upon and nothing was happening. 

That's when you decided to only work on the things you had some control over that didn't require someone else's input. 

Hard lesson for me and would have helped in many other ways. But that's really not why I came in today. I needed to talk with someone about all these...thoughts floating around in my head. I think I'm going to die soon. 

What makes you think that?

I've run out of things to live for. I think I may have finished what I was sent to earth to do, and now it's my turn to pass on the baton. There are so many decisions I've made in my life that totally messed up people's lives. Being gone that wouldn't happen any more. Getting out of bed to get ready for work, taking the dogs for a walk, chatting with Moreen, having breakfast, walk or get a ride to work...Nothing really interests me enough to motivate me to do any of that except that I'm supposed to.

I can see how some of those things could be upsetting to you. Do you need a reason to get out of bed, other than functioning through the day and fulfilling your obligations? I've wondered if there is a purpose in our lives that we haven't understood and over the centuries philosophers have written about their trials and the question of “Why am I alive?”

I remember reading Fredrich Neitzche in college and then dropping out that semester when I had the same question. As with many things in my life I can look back and say “Stupid, stupid! What were you thinking?” I could have graduated in another semester.

But you would have stayed in San Diego to continue school instead of volunteering to go to Shiloh to work for the fall and winter.

Maybe that would have been the best, anyway. Everything I attained at Shiloh I've pretty much flush down the toilet since then. Well, my marriage for one. I really did love Sue. The last year or so when we talked about separating because of my being gay I really felt like I still loved her. Her response was “I know now that you never loved me.” But I did, at least I felt like I did. 

You have many fond memories of your years together.

God yes. It would take me pages to recall all the things that meant so much to both of us. On our honeymoon we took a picture of a drain at Niagara Falls because we both had to pee sooooo bad and we were both tempted to use the drain. The morning a maid opened the door and then closed it quickly when she found us both enjoying one another. We were married at Shiloh among dozens of friends, maybe hundreds, because John thought it would be a good thing to have the wedding during the Ministry's Conference. We really didn't have to send out many wedding invites except to family because we had a “trapped audience.” But it was fun, dancing through the crowd and back to the platform. John saying to Uncle John and Aunt Joan, “This is a bit different from an Episcopal wedding.” They were Episcopal so I'm sure they were surprised when he said that out of the blue. The wedding had lots of singing, clapping, dancing, happy faces.We had the most delicious carrot cake at the reception, thanks to May Boyd who put that all together. We had every major ministry in the Walk bless us. 

Did she have any idea of your sexual orientation at the time?

Later in our marriage she said she knew because of my response when males were part of a porn movie we were watching. A week later there was a sermon about rightiosness and not watching porn. When we were in Hawaii I went on ocassional errands at night for something at the market. I'd drive by a gay bar off Waikiki and watch guys going in. They looked so happy and comfortable with themselves and who they were, and I remember sitting in the car yearning to have that same acceptance of who I was. Nothing happened other than that, but that's when it first started, when I actually “did” something about my feelings. Until then it was just thoughts. 

Couldn't you talk with anybody? John even called you a dumb head for not talking to anyone and isolating yourself, years before. 

By the time the feelings became stronger and stronger I was at Shiloh. If I'd admitted that I was gay at that time would have meant having all my bags packed and at the airport before I barely finished the sentence. You can imagine having 50 guys there in the winter, all living together in such close confines. It would have been my death knell. I recall talking with Brent Finney about having lust and masturbating and he said I should pray for a wife, which I did. That's as close as I came to confessing anything. 

If you'd left Shiloh you would have gone back to San Diego and finished college?

I couldn't imagine my life without Shiloh at the time. My time was filled with so many fun things, the Off The Wall newspaper we put out for a year, working in the Living Word section and learning the monolith printer with Jim West, making keys when needed, and being involved in services and intercession. When we left Shiloh to move to Hawaii I felt like Sue and I had a lot to offer Grace Chapel. But my intensity was startling to people and I moved too fast, so within a few months the drive I had from Shiloh had petered out. So Sue and I spent more time together. We were in Kauai for a period of time and I remember moving bricks and knocking her finger badly with one of them. We had a lot of opportunities. 

And during all this you were struggling with your being gay?

Well, it wasn't a constant thing, it was all so gradual. By the time it was overwhelming me I pretty much begged Gary Hargrave to let us move back to the Mainland. I thought if we stayed another year I would have lost it altogether.

Daniel was born while you were in Hawaii. He was born at home you said one time. 

(Laughing) Yeah, that was quite an experience. I loved him from the time he was conceived. I felt it in my bones that I needed to procreate. We were together after that for  a little over three years. During that time Scott was born, in San Diego, in the hospital, almost in the hallway because Sue dilated so fast. We had told the doctor but he wasn't quite prepared. “No, I'll take pictures” I replied to him when he asked if I wanted to participate. Scott was six months old when Sue and I broke up.

When you did say goodbye to the three of them it must have been pretty emotional.

Not so much then, but that night alone, and a dozen times after that I have cried like my guts were going to bust out. I felt such grief, the loss of “something that could have been” and it was and has been overwhelming at times. 

Now that the boys are adults, it must give you pleasure to see them succeed.

My god, yes, for Daniel. He's been married two years now and he adores Rachel, and she him. Right now I talk with him when something that is phone-worthy. “Happy Father's Day,” “We got the box”,

“Weather up here sucks, too.” “Go Bears!” He's a Cal fan and probably will be the rest of his life, goes to as many games as he can, even away games if it can be arranged, worked around his work schedule. Rachel is an important member of the Cal Alumni Association staff, so her ties to Cal go even deeper, and she's paid to go to games when there's an alumni event. Daniel probably wishes he had a job like that so he could go to every game! He studied integrative biology at Cal and lived in the T House, where many of the other band members lived. When we visited the first time he asked the band teacher where people in the band live (for comaraderie) which is how we found out about T House. That day we went over to see it and were immediately invited to join them for lunch. Daniel found his college family. 

You've been smiling the whole time you've been talking about him. He is an important part of your life, and you his.

I love Dan so much. I know he will be very sad when I pass. But he didn't grow up with me, he visited with his brother, Scott, for several weeks in the summer, and I made a couple of trips to Oregon to see them. Sue was incredibly acommodating. The first time we slept in the house. Fine with me but Moreen's idea of a good night's sleep is in a queen bed, with a remote and a tv, breakfast in a restaurant and all, which was only available at the Shiloh Inn in downtown Lebanon. One year we forgot the Christmas presents we had purchased and wrapped and had a friend send us the box. Meanwhile, so the boys would have presents, we rusched through a small department store and then wrapped everything standing next to the hood of our rental. 

Did the boys have a father figure in Oregon?

Sue dated Frank for a long period of time, and she had a son, Eric, from that union. There were other men but what was most helpful is their involvement in the Boy Scouts. Dan was an Eagle Scout. Scott was in it for a couple of years until he reached the age when he didn't want to be mirroring all of Dan's interests. Scott even played the trumpet when Dan studied trombone. The greatest influence was his grandfather, Joe Boyd, who lived in Bend. When Dan was officially recognized as a Boy Scout, he requested two father pins, one for me, and one for Joe.

Now tell me about Scott. You've mentioned him several times but we've pretty much talked about Dan. 

Moreen and I were so devoted to Scott's success that he spent his third grade year with us. That was a lot of fun, going to movies, volunteering in his classroom, taking him to the church on Saturdays to be with the other kids, and then again on Sunday for the service. He really didn't enjoy the Saturdays and got pretty angry when I insisted. But it just dawned on me that I should have asked him why, and maybe he would tell me that he liked being with Moreen, or he didn't get along with the other kids. When kids say they are cold and the Dad says, “How can you be cold?,” the Dad should have suggested wearing a windbreaker or sweater to take off later. And that might be in the car 10 minutes later. But the child was cold, the Dad was not, and shouldn't tell his son how to feel in any way, physically or emotionally, and should respect the child's needs, even when you don't agree. Society told us for generations that men don't cry, or if they do they do it in private. That shit has caused so many emotionally damaged kids – “That wasn't something to cry over,” “You'll feel better.” That is repeated on the playgrounds around the world; the boy is strong and doesn't cry, only girls cry. But if the boy needs to cry and has those emotions who am I to tell him to “Keep a stiff upper lip” even after he has failed in something twice. 

We need to talk about Scott, but I am enjoying your child-rearing diatribe.

Sorry, it just makes me so upset to see parents treating their children in this way. I think part of my anger is how I was a psychological wreck when my stepfather was part of the family. But that's another whole story. Moreen loved having Scott here, getting him nice clothes and a haircut. (Moreen swears Sue sent the boys down with ratty clothes and badly groomed because she knew we would take care of it. We did, and I can understand why Sue did that, having three sons to care for, money really tight on her end for sure.) We had an art table, a “take apart” table where Scott could take every screw out of an adding machine. We went to the library often and Moreen bought him books that he enjoyed here and back in Oregon. He also loved to cook and was determined to make a red, white, and blue cake he read about for July 4, so his mother read the recipe to him over the phone. We still have the recipe. 

He was with you in third grade, which made him what, eight?

I'm not actually sure but around that time. He decided on Christmas break he wanted to be back home, but would finish the school year with us. In most cases we thought his weren't being met in Oregon so we tried to compensate with lots of talks and activities. Moreen was proud to take him out, say, to the La Valencia for lunch, with him all dressed up. Everyone smiled at the two of them, “Your grandson is so cute.” It wasn't until the horrible incident here in June 2009 that we knew one of the reasons he had been sent here for that year. Scott loved acting so much that that was his major at U of O, where we went for one of the shows. He was living with his girlfriend Carly at the time. I didn't realize how hard that was on him until later. 

Tell me about him as an adult. Did you two still get along?

I loved having Scott visit. There were a couple of ocassions when we were one of the stopping points in his travels. During the time he was with us we did a lot of things together, especailly going to movies, which we both loved. After we adopted out Corgi's Scott was angry that they got more attention than he did when I got home from work. “If you barked, smiled,danced around and wiggled your tail, I would greet you the same way.” After that I always made sure to greet him before I petted the dogs. We went on long walks together, which was perfect for me because it's so boring to walk by myself, and we would talk and make plans for the day. A few days before that June evening I had even said to him that there wasn't anyone else I felt this close to, and really considered him as a friend. That relationship and the fun we had together is what I miss most.

You've mentioned what happened in June, but haven't told me much, but I take it there was a falling out of some kind?

Yes, and I'll never see him again the rest of my life if I can help it. He injured me very badly one evening and I was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, had 12 staples and 20 stitches on my head, and my body was covered with bruises and abrasions. Broke my little finger on my right hand.A superficial knife puncture on my back. He was arrested for attempted murder, which went do intent with a deadly weapon, spent six months in jail, was given three years probation, which he is still serving in San Diego. 

Was this a sudden thing? Had he been mad at you like this before? What could have happened to make him do such a horrible thing?

He had some mental and emotional problems that he denied he'd had, even after the Peace Corps had to medevac him from Macedonia to Washington D.C. He had become out of control and it was threatening to every one around him, people were afraid of him. It was diagnosed as bipolar disorder, but that's too simple a description. There were all kinds of other things going on, and had gone on with him since he was a child. Know why he came down to us in third grade? He'd become so violent that he ran around the house trying to stab Daniel, and then grabbed a knife when his mother was nearby. No one was hurt, but we weren't told this before he came down. Throwing canned food at the babysitter, putting a dent in the wall, among other things. One time he faked a robbery, had tied himself to a chair, after ransacking his mother's bedroom. Sue called the police, who found out the truth. But looking back on it, I really think he had imagined all that and it became so real to him that he had even fooled himself. 

Did he have any professional help? You mentioned he was medevaced from Macedonia.

He did have help, lots, and eventually perscriptions to relieve anxiety, control the mental ups and downs. He had stopped taking his medication, we found out later, which put him back over the edge. Then the incident. But he went back to a girlfriend he'd met in Europe, and her parents were generous enough to let him stay with them until they both had jobs and could rent their own apartment. Months later, they both started working for a school in Manchester,(?) Massachusetts. Two months later and the week after they moved into their apartment, he went retro again, paranoid, saying there was a conspiracy in the administration to keep the reason secret of why one of the students had killed himself a few days later. He totally flipped and the police took him to a hospital in Manchester where he was admitted. Thats when his girlfriend called me to tell me what happened.

What did you do?

I flew to Boston, packed all of his things in boxes to be mailed to San Diego, visited with him at the hospital where I found out how much I like to play pingpong. When he was all medicated we returned to San Diego. The absolute worst part of it was how he'd had this fantastic relationship with a beautiful woman, a job at a school, and a new apartment. The first night I stayed there I wept for hours, walking through their home, a two bedroom with a kitchen. They'd made the second bedroom into a living room, a well worn couch against the wall. I imagined what it was like for them to set up house, and how happy he seemed to be with his girlfriend.  I stood in the doorway and wept. It was heartbreaking. Six months later he was in jail in San Diego.

Rough. So it's been a year and a half since that happened. How do you feel today?

I've forgiven Scott for what happened because I know it wasn't him, but the breakdown that was showing itself in an awful way. But I still seethe with anger that it happened. Moreen and I have sworn never to see him again. If he were in a store where I was shopping, I would run back to my car in fear. I know folks are going to say, Come on, it's been 20 years. I don't care, I never want to hear his voice, talk to him, have anything to do with him. 

That's pretty harsh. And that's something that all victims have to deal with. You're not alone.

I know that. It's the only way I can live with what happened. He broke our trust, abandoned our love, turned away from all that Moreen and I had done for him and were still doing. A few weeks ago I thought I saw him from the back in the store and a volt of electricity went from my head to my feet, my hands and feet were swetting. I was ready to bolt. It was a customer. Scott is not supposed to come into La Jolla as part of his probation, something he breaks and he's back in jail. I'll always know where he lives by asking Daniel. Can we talk about something else now? Please.

So you're working in a bookstore? How's that going?

It was rough at the start because I mainly had a job because of my love for children's books, and staff then must have known I was a friend of Nancy's. I felt nothing but resentment for months. Christie was the only employee I seemed to get along with. She trained me in how to work the register, etc. One time we were at the computer and she said, “Did you just touch the screen?” as if it was something you're never supposed to touch. I think she felt bad that I didn't laugh. Now I like working there, I get along with everyone pretty much, and I've learned to keep my advice or ideas to myself unless I'm asked for my opinion. No one wants you to tell them how to do their job, even if it would improve performance or save time, or even make more money for the store. I'm there for the health benefits, it's that simple. But that's not one of the reasons I feel like I've lived a full life and it's time to let go.

I take it you live with Moreen?

Have been for 20 years now. She's retired, works in her garden, volunteers in the library. I love her so much and her sorrow at losing me is too overwhelming to think about. It would be devastating. I want to be at her bedside holding her hand when she passes. I know that contradicts what I said about wanting to go. I was hoping joining a church would give me a little more to my life and it has helped. I was going to a church, Church of His Kingdom, in the late 80's. John Stevens was an apostle over the Living Word churches and was the reason I lived in Iowa for two years, where I met Sue at Shiloh. 

I'd gone into the gay life pretty much in every way, even had a boyfriend who was a professor at UCSD. After a few years I felt like it wasn't the life I wanted, or shouldn't have, broke up with Harry over the phone, and have regretted that ever since. I loved him so much. I was going to the church several evenings a week, and Saturdays, Sundays, pretty much filling my life up with as much of God as I could find. Then I left the church. Then I came back. Then I left and haven't returned since 2002.

During those years you must have made quite a few friends in the church. 

I did, and that's partly why I'll probably never go back. It's now been eight years and everyone will be miles ahead of me in their walk with God. I've also considered what impact it would have on my present life. I admit it's pretty comfortable. I could go back for Sunday services, but it's a 45 minute drive. Honestly, I feel ashamed that I've had so much from the church over the years and just flushed it. Stupid, stupid. I had several dreams over a couple of years of John Miller checking my spirit, once outside a tent where we were talking with Gary and Marilyn. Another time when he was sitting on some steps and I rode by on my bicycle and could feel the wall I'd created around me make him put his head down and cry. I had a couple of dreams in which the room was the brightest yellow I've ever seen. Stunning, and people were standing together facing in in the center of the room. I had my hand on someone's back, turned around and the dream was over. Another time it was just to peek into the room, seemingly looking under the wall and Lois Klient looks up at me from a desk where she was sitting, and I turned to giggle with whatever people were around me. 

Explain for me the shame you feel. I take it you're not happy that you're gay?

I would have never chosen to be gay. It's been the bane of my potentially very successful walk with God. It caused the divorce, led me into depravity, took away the spiritual gifts I'd been given during the first 10 years of my involvement with the church. I told God that if I ever turned away from Him for Him to please kill me. My life would be empty and unfulfilled and that's exactly what has happened, just as I feared. I wish I'd become closer to John Miller when he was at Shiloh, not gotten married, and stayed there. I've often thought about what would happen if scenarios and that's the one turning point in my life that I made a foolhardy decision. I should have been weeping outside Miller's door, too sad to leave him and the life I had, clinging to him in agony that we would be separated. But that didn't happen, did it? And now I'm sitting here telling you my life story, a story that could have been entirely different if I'd gone through another door. Which means I probably wouldn't be taing to you. 

It is good to dream and our imaginations can be uplifting, or in your case, a weight that's tied you down with regrets and sadness. What would have happened if? That's something we've all pondered because it's at those turning points when we choose the left path instead of the right, or we go through one door and not the other. That's true with every decision we make. But nothing, nothing is going to change who you are right now, the man you are and the memories you have. I've heard one person describe the what if scenario as he took the other path and fell off a cliff. The end. It's been a long time, but you have to accept your life now, where you live right now. Seems like you're at one of those decision point times now. You could radically change your life right this minute. 

My life is too good, and too settled, and I'm living with a wonderful woman, have two dogs, health insurance, investments and savings, a car we share and experiences we have had and will have. I've been here 20 years and we both could easily be here another 20 living just like we are now. In some ways I'm beholden to Moreen because of her generosity. I've lived here rent free the whole time. That's keeping me here, too. She would be devastated if I moved, and I'd be standing in soup kitchens living on the street eventually. Maybe that's what should happen, what I deserve after being such an ass. 

Oh please, they've canceled most of the soap operas on tv. Yours wouldn't be commercially successful either.  

Moreen, I dearly love you. I eagerly look forward to seeing you in the morning when I wake and saying goodnight to you in the evenings. You have been so loving, generous, and forgiving, going through some awful times on my behalf, and I will always be in debt. I love to cook for you and help you in the garden, and sit in the living room reading books. I look for ways to bless you and I find myself already buying things for Mother's Day and your October birthday, all stashed in my closet. I love making the dogs happy so they are pleasant companions during the day. Drinking coffee while you have tea, sharing a weird news story, or watching the Daily Show or Rachel Maddow. As a family we've had all those things, and created new traditions together. Youve been my counselor and healer. But so much of the time I think about the life I had or could have. You've told me many times about how I chastise myself about a decision I've made. The only reason my life is as good, and so love filled, is because of you, and I daily choose to be with you and not take that other path. You mean too much to me and I want you happy and comfortable. Tell me how I can make your life even more blessed, more relaxing, more entertaining because I want to help you attain the full life you want. I wish I were you and could have no regrets or deep concerns for the future, and live each day as a gift. You are a constant gift to me. Thank you.