Life After the Stage

Pamela Part 3

2012-09-13T07:06:00.000-07:00

(Don't forget to go back and read parts one and two!)

So it wasn’t too long before Pamela embraced the “curly girl” philosophy-much to my relief. It taught her to embrace her wavy corkscrewed locks rather than bending them to her will, straightening them with this unbecoming lacquer that created that peculiar Sea Scallop bun she had been favoring. She began to sport this bouncy short” do” with a modern Brunette Shirley Temple feel to it. Her hair was soft ,touchable and infinitely more appealing. (She had even netted a new beau from it!) This hair style change for the better, didn’t happen immediately mind you. I would arrive each morning to see her at the front desk and frown, to let her know that whatever particular look she had chosen that day was a colossal fail. She had bleached her hair at one point and went back to using these terrible hair glazes which just looked flat out awful and gave her a cheap white trash trailer park girl look. She would ( of course) get angry with me and then ..all of our coworkers wound up having a bad day whenever we quarreled. We weren’t exactly…. well behaved when we were upset with one another. Files slammed on desks and bathroom doors slammed shut whenever a disagreement broke out between us. Our most frequent argument was whose sense of fashion was best. This was absurd, because I was the furthest thing from a fashion plate. My typical wardrobe consisted of khakis and sweaters at work and a jeans and T-shirt slob outside of work. The only fashion achievement I made in my tenure as a mortgage broker’s assistant was figuring out that flat front pants were more flattering for me than pleats. I knew I was a mature, professional, 38 year old male but when I was with Pamela –I was JUST another boy crazy 24 year old girl.

Pamela also began wearing large silk flowers on her lapels and blouses and slowly converted her dark slacks and white shirt by adopting more vibrant colors like Red, Orange and Hot Pinks to her wardrobe. She arrived to work every morning asking. “Are you ready for the big flower PA?” Johnny would try to make an obscure reference to Georgia O’Keefe, which was supposed to embarrass her that she was wearing a Vagina on her lapel. I doubt she understood it. Christine –who had an interesting chic, fashion sense also worth remarking on- would eye her with cool speculation and then say softly under her breath. “Well PA – Are you ready for the Big Flower?” Christine never insulted directly, but I could hear the disapproving tone implying that the Big Flower was a Big Mistake. Luckily this comment was only meant for me to hear.

My boss, being the Italian Stallion that he is, was successful in generating loans for Christine and I to grind out. As a result of this, I felt particularly flush with cash and considered redecorating my small moldy in law. I mentioned this to Pamela and Nupura at lunch, as we mulled over the platters of Peruvian Cuisine that the waiter just brought to the table. We had adjusted the plates to reflect our new Low Carb diets to the Chef’s chagrin. This meant I was staring down sadly at a plate of mixed greens and a grilled chicken breast coated with spices and herbs and not the creamy beautiful sea food potato soup with the poached egg on top I normally ordered. “Oh We’ll have so much fun!!! “ Pamela squealed. I had to admit she looked adorable in her bouncy little bob and kewpie doll bow lips as she clapped with excitement.

“We?” I asked her as I arched my left brow at her.

“YES WE! Nupie can help too.” Nupura looked alarmed as she sipped her tea.” I can ask my friend Eli too. You’ll love him PA !! Let’s go look at some new furniture at the Galleria after work!”

I rolled my eyes at her. “We can look at furniture after work together as long as you drive me to JC Penney’s and Sears instead of the Galleria. I have no intention on spending five grand on a couch.”

Her brows knitted in irritation and then she let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh all right” She brightened “Ready to go furniture shopping Nupie?!. Nupura nodded and giggled.

After work, Nupura and I bundled into Pammie’s SUV and headed to San Bruno which housed a JC Penny and a Sears. I love the smell of department stores. It’s similar to the scent of new car but it smells more like perfumed cardboard. I couldn’t believe that I was nearly 40 and only now just buying some real furniture for myself. It seemed as if this particular JC Penney’s hired only East Indian employees, because I didn’t see any other race on the sales staff. I found a couch and club chair combo that was very reasonably priced. Pamela was annoyed that I didn’t care for the faux leather furniture. I let her know that it was cold where I lived and I wanted furniture I could snuggle in. The type of fabric I showed her was a mottled slate stone color of that brushed microfiber. She pushed her lips in to a moue and circled the couch stroking it with a look of concentration. “It should look good against the pearl grey carpet” I agreed with her. It was a darker grey and wouldn’t clash with the carpet. Nupura deemed it appropriately “squishy cushy comfy”. We found the salesman( Mr. Mirchandani) and made arrangements to have it delivered to San Francisco. Nupura’s and my eyes went round when she told Mr. Mirchandani that she was Mrs. Cooley and she would arrange the shipment. It was a mystery to me how she was going to get the day off supervising the delivery of MY couch but whatever. I grabbed the hand that was supposed to be wearing a wedding band and hid it behind my jean jacket. What was she thinking? Telling this man we were married? You would have to be missing a head to not be able to tell I was as queer as a four dollar bill. When we were through with Mr. Mirchandani, I asked her why she said she was my husband. She told me we would get better service. I was too dense to gather her rationale.

The couch and chair were the first of the many transformations in my home. Pammie planned on making a day of it with her OTHER Best Gay- Eli, while they arranged, painted furniture and hung photos. Apparently Eli was very handy around the house. There was no asking me if this was acceptable or not. It was simply a statement of how this was all going to go the next weekend. I warned her that “Best Gays” could clash sometimes and that the people who issued Gay cards were strict that we could only have one Hag per Gay. She was too focused on “designing” that she didn’t hear me.

The couch and club chair arrived the very next day! Luckily my landlord was there to supervise the delivery. Neither Pammie nor I were required to be there. The delivery guys had to pop out the sliding glass door to fit in the enormous couch. The heavy drapery was drawn wide open and it was an unusually sunny day so the light shone brightly on my great big couch and club chair. My great big BEIGE couch and club chair that is…Wait. What? Beige?! That is NOT what I ordered!!! I ordered stone putty gray! This is Beige and it looked …peculiar with the carpet. I didn’t know the rudiments of interior design, but I could see with my own two eyes that a Beige couch looked very odd with a Pearl Grey carpeting. Pammie’s whole concept –as she explained it to me, were to do muted big pieces with intense red and gold accents. I like Red and I liked Gold, in fact every Christmas I decorated my tree in Red and Gold. Red and Gold are about as far away as you can get from Beige and Gray. I called “Mrs Cooley” immediately and wailed. “ It’s Beige !!!” She gasped “No! – I’ll be right over.”

When she arrived, she stalked around the couch jabbing it angrily. It was quite a different from when we were at the store. “This is NOT the color, we selected! “ She roared. “Mrs. Cooley” got on the phone to call Mr. Mirchandani. She screamed at Mr. Mirchandani for a solid 15 minutes. If that doesn’t sound like much to you I suggest you try screaming for 15 minutes and see how long you last. She wailed how she we had an important dinner party on Saturday Night and my boss was coming and we NEED the FURNITURE WE ORDERED !!!!! Her tale spinning was so grand that I almost got swept up into it. She made us sound like we had a very grand home with 5 bedrooms and 2 baths and Doric Columns out front for cryin out loud. I looked at her incredulously but she seemed to have gotten lost in her own tale. I wanted to squeeze her plump arm and say Really Pammie? All this for $1000 dollars worth of JC Penny furniture? Really? Then the Cherry on top of the Sundae as she uttered into the receiver. “ Oh Now Look what you’ve done! You’ve made me wake the baby!! I just stared at her gape mouthed in shock as she gesticulated wildly for me to cry like a baby. I narrowed my eyes at her and shook my head.” No Way”, I mouthed back. Mr. Mirchandani determined not to lose a sale to someone with a 5 bedroom home begged her to come back to the show room so he could assure her that we got the couch we had ordered. We did just that.

Normally Pammie drove like a little old woman but she was near to breaking the speed limit many times on this short drive. She marched into the store with authority while I decided to play the pussy whipped. beleaguered husband. Don’t judge me. It seemed like the safest way to go. I trailed meekly behind her inhaling the lovely scent of JC Pennys. Mr. M showed us the couch we ordered. It was the stone gray putty we had first selected. She assured him with a barely controlled fury through clenched teeth that it was NOT the couch that arrived. Mr. M suggested that get a swatch of the fabric from the couch we had first selected so he could prove it. She carefully held the swatch up to the couch in the show room shooting the poor salesman baleful looks in between seeing that it matched the couch no matter how you held it. It matched. I shrugged helplessly. He said he’d be right back as he went to check on another sale that my dear wifey poo had interrupted. She gripped the swatch card and followed Mr. M with her eyes. Without looking down at the swatch card she ripped the swatch color choice in question- right off the card! I hissed at her. “What the hell are you doing??? She was hustling out of the store as fast as she could into the parking lot to her SUV. It was all I could do to keep up with her.

As we left the foggy environs of San Bruno to San Fran, I noticed that it was rare that San Francisco had sun and San Bruno didn’t. Pam gripped the wheel in grim determination to prove Mr. Mirchandani wrong as she muttered softly to herself how to get him fired. “ Oh don’t do that ! “ I said. She snapped out of it as if she had thought she was alone and just realized she wasn’t. Then she went back to muttering softly but it was unintelligible. I glanced down at the swatch and noticed something strange was happening. As we drove through darker areas, the swatch looked like the darker gray we had seen in the store but when the sunlight hit the fabric it was …yep Beige – a light tan almost. I didn’t dare tell her. “ Uh …Pammie…you might want to take a look at this.” He eyebrows shot up to the top of her curly hairline as she witnessed the swatch going from beige…to gray and back to beige depending on whether we hit the sunlight or shade. She swung into the driveway of the house I lived in and catapulted out of the seat trotting up to my door as I chased after her to unlock and let her in. The couch was beige. The swatch was beige. Pamela became off white as she sank on my bed staring at the couch. An odd tick was developing in her face and she twitched a bit. I couldn’t hear too much but I did manage to hear her whispering to herself softly. “ I can’t be wrong –I’m never wrong” I know she said this because she repeated it four times. As she stared and twitched I went to pour her a glass of wine. We left Mr. Mirchandani alone and I popped the swatch in the mail to JC Penny’s the next morning. Pammie barely recovered from that experience.

The Pamela Chronicles Now...about your hair...I'd like to suggest

2012-06-16T12:02:00.002-07:00

Our merry little band of Mortgage Brokers set up house in the damp, gray fog of West Portal in a small office. There were eight desks closely together in two rows of four facing the large store front window. There was a floor upstairs for some of the new agents. People who entered would be greeted by Pamela. My desk was in between Johnny and Christine behind her. The four of us were essentially the "production" team for the West Portal Loan office. Bill and Stan-the business partners and working loan agents- were stationed in the adjacent row along with whatever newbie agents we got fresh from passing their Real Estate Licensing tests. We all gradually sunk into our routine and Pamela embraced her authority of office manager with zeal. She would take the new agents under her wing and advise them. She and Bill would playfully exchange colorful banter with Johnny inserting bizarre, enigmatic one liners having to do with ass licking and semen consumption. Pamela would shriek out an admonishing "Johnny!!!" filled with the same shock and dismay of Jane Hathaway but you could tell she was slightly amused. Christine would just look ever so briefly puzzled as if she didn't quite get Johnny's jokes and then shake her head in disbelief when it became clear what he was talking about.

It didn't happen RIGHT away but I began to fall a little in love with Pamela. This all came about due to my odd compulsion. You see in every job I ever had, there was always a chubby person who I could squeeze and shake whenever I needed to. I realize that's a peculiar statement so let me elaborate. It started as far back as Sixth Grade when I kept squeezing Jay Yahowicz's skull because it was so magnificently bulbous to me. Ever since, I have had a strange compulsion to grab body parts of an individual and squeeze or shake them in some way. The rounder the body part looked, the more I am compelled to squeeze it. Lucky for me I never do this to random strangers. I always befriended them first. Also lucky (or not depending on your view), for them- it was never a sexual organ. For me it wasn't a sexual thing anyway. I noticed I often did it to a co-worker so I suppose it's how I relieved stress. These days Orlando, and infrequently Drew endure this odd behaviour.

With this activity I often limited it to the cranium or the upper arm. I once wrote on a girl's arm in college in indelible blue marker, " I Love your Fat arm" You can imagine how she felt about that -particularly since she wasn't really overweight. She just had fat upper arms and I LOVED to squeeze them. She had a crush on me up until the blue marker incident and she viewed my squeezings and shakings as affection. My new co-worker Pamela had luscious arms and it was hard for me to wait and get to know her better before I could begin squeezing. I found I couldn't help myself and when I arrived to the office. I'd reach down and do a quick stealth squeeze/shake combo and shout a cheery " Good Morning Pammikins!!!" (As much as I disliked her incongruous Sea Scallop hair do, I was tickled to see it vibrate a little with my squeeze/shake combo.) She looked up at me in wonder and asked, " What was that? " I smiled, " Just making sure you are awake and ready for a great day!!!" and then I'd hustle over to my desk, hoping for better control of myself.

As we got to know the local watering holes and lunch places we got to know each other. Pamela rarely brought a packed lunch. I did bring my lunch but would often join her on Fridays. There were a few nice places in West Portal. She quickly bonded to Stan's new marketing girl. I say "girl" because it always seemed like a woman just out of college. It was a part time position but she did have a desk upstairs. Our marketing person was named Nupura. Pamela and Nupura became close because of their proximity in age. Due to my stunted emotional maturity, I found myself relating quite easily to these 20 something girls. (I was in my late 30s). We all talked about the pitfalls of being single in this day and age and how difficult men could be. Nupura had a handy little trick that amused Pammie and me, where she would unfurl her long dark hair from it's little bun on her head in the middle of a packed bar and immediately you could feel all the eyes of every man blaze in her direction. That would be my cue to head to the Castro so I could make some men blaze in MY direction.

Pammie was generous and often bought us drinks and treated us to lunch. I figured her salary was similar to my own and asked her point blank if she had more money stashed somewhere else. She reluctantly revealed her good fortune to me and Nupura. Pammie was a trust fund baby. She had explained that a close friend of her father's had some significant business success and had set up for her and her brother and sister, -a trust fund. She had an allowance from it, but the whole thing wouldn't be hers until she was 38. I didn't know about Nupura but after decades of trying to scrape a living together I was mystified why someone would CHOOSE to work if they didn't have to. Pammie didn't look me directly in the eye and said out into the air " It's best if I work for my money" I reached over and squeezed her arm and she asked, " Why do you DO that to me all the time? " Nupura took the liberty of explaining it to her in front of me. " It means he likes you Pammie!" We raised a glass to all liking each other very much. I liked her soooo much that I was ready to change her. I had always wanted a daughter! I began "Now about that hair do...." Nupura gulped her drink nervously and I squeezed Pammies arm one more time. Pammie looked alarmed. ( To be continued)

Pamela (Meeting Day)

2012-05-16T12:12:00.004-07:00

Had to do something to combat the weight gain from Office Treats.

This industry seemed to be peppered with Gays and Lesbians. I found it remarkable that Stan didn't have a homophobic bone in his body considering he was such an Alpha Male Italian Stallion. He was surrounded by Gays at the Mortgage Brokerage. He gave off some vibe that made me think of my brother Peter for some reason and I never got the "boss" crush that I sometimes got with all my male superiors. I was beginning to grasp the loan process and all it's tedious rules. After putting me through the ringer -Christine was beginning to have faith in the fact that I was a quick learner. Understanding the path of a loan is actually simple if you are naive enough to think the underwriters will just merrily agree to it. They often don't, and that is just the one of the primary examples of how things might go awry. Satisfying those "conditions" that the underwriter had to get the loan to documents at the title company was often left to me. I would call the client and ask, " The lender wants to know why you didn't work for all of 1998? (the borrower had a baby and took a year off), or the lender wants to know why you forgot a payment this particular credit card. ( oh I dunno- yeah I do, that was the year I was traveling in Taiwan and a go-go boy, who I got drunk with and had sex with me, and stole it. I thought I had paid it all off but I guess I didn't) . Telling the lender the REAL reason payments weren't made wasn't really an option. It wasn't called lying, it was called "getting creative". I would write the Letters of Explanation (LOE) with reasons that were much easier for a tired, overworked, embittered underwriter to forgive. Most of my information that I gave them was omitting key parts so the following excuse would be that his card was lost in Taiwan while on vacation and upon realizing it, the tried to contact the credit card company immediately. Unfortunately the credit card company's office in Taiwan screwed up the communication and a payment was missed.

Since the refinance business was booming and Stan was a "Top Producer" he naturally progressed to heading his own office. along with his friend Bill. Stan snatched Bill away from a competing Mortgage Brokerage but they had actually known each other for years. Bill was good friends with Stan's wife. What was even better was that the new office was going to be very close to where I lived at the time in the West Portal district of San Francisco. Bill was a lanky Gay agent whose personality made him more attractive than his actual appearance. He looked very average, but when he smiled or told a story it seemed to increase his sex appeal. Well... it did to me anyway. Bill would take on the responsibility of hiring a new office manager and finding the new loan agents processors to work with.

Bill took a couple of loan agents from his previous employer , (much to that company's chagrin), and a peculiar, but lovable loan processor that resembled a marionette, with his overly large head and slim body. His name was Johnny. Johnny and I would become very close in a short amount of time. Johnny was wired just like me: he was in a constant state of Jungle Fever. What made it worse was that we were both attracted to the same types of black men. Our type was masculine well built men with either a bald head or a very closely shaved head. Johnny called them "milk duds" but the term never caught on with me. I had an advantage over Johnny though. I was single and he was not. Bill had gotten me very excited about meeting him because he told me that Johnny was one of my biggest fans. I was still deeply engrossed in performing theater career at night. As it turned out, Johnny had never even SEEN me perform. He was such a voracious reader that he recalled my name in reviews of plays that he had planned on seeing but never got around to it. He was a loan processing whiz but lacked Christine's focus and clean organization. His real saving grace was that he was brilliant. He could quote anything from Shakespeare to John Waters. When he donned his wire rimmed glasses and explained how to solve a work situation it was very very difficult to believe he was the same man that squealed " Guuuurrrrrl Ya wanna grab a COCKtail and check out some Milk Duds after work? "
The truth is that I would be the one asking if he wanted a cocktail after work. Many a night he was stuck at his desk probably doing work that the loan agent he worked for should be doing. Christine's cool, quick efficiency rarely kept me after 5:30PM. Johnny didn't have a loan coordinator to work with- AND he was processing many loans for fledgling Loan Agents who were CONTINUALLY freaking out about the loans they were working on. Christine didn't have the patience to mollify an Agent.

Everyone but me had heard of Pamela, our new Office Manager. Pamela's former boss was right out of "The Devil Wears Prada" She was a control queen from hell who had nearly micromanaged Pamela into a state of psychosis with inappropriate baby sitting requests and trying to achieve impossible deadlines. Regardless, she spoke highly of Pamela, and Bill and Stan hired her as a result.
When Christine and I returned from a coffee break and Stan and Bill introduced us I immediately wondered if her qualifications were true. She looked like a white woman, but her hair was styled similarly to what I had seen the middle class Latina high school girls from the Mission District wear. It was heavily coated with some shiny shellac hair product that formed it into stiff wavy ribbons of hair that she folded into a clip so there was an odd bubble bun made with these ribbons of hair near the top of her head. It greatly resembled a Sea Scallop made from shiny twine. I later learned that she felt her hair was hopelessly curly and the hair product lamination was necessary in order for her to get control of it. She was also extremely overweight with the unfortunate positioning of the fat situated primarily around her hips and derriere. She covered up her swollen looking frame in some smartly tailored black pants, a white blouse and a black cardigan sweater. Unbeknownst to me she had 20 of the very same outfit (or damned close to it) hanging in her closet. Her skin was smooth and vaguely olive complected. Her tiny-bee-stung-Clara Bow -lips were thickly glossed and one heavily mascared eye seemed vaguely smaller than the other heavily mascared eye, particularly when she smiled. She smelled divine and when she extended her hand and said a chirpy, "Pleased to meet you!" all my critical observations of her appearance flew out the door.

Pamela

2012-04-30T21:36:00.000-07:00

I once was a loan coordinator for a top producing loan agent at a successful Mortgage brokerage. I look at that sentence on my resume and it makes me smirk because it seems surreal, but the thing is -it's true. I was so good at my job that I won an award for it. It's not much to look at. It looks as if some company needed to dump a bunch of pewter ashtrays, so they sold them to a trophy company and they put them on a stand on their side facing out and etched in "Loan Coordinator Top Sales for 2005, or 2006. (I don't really remember the year). I believe I was the first Loan Coordinator of that company to ever GET an award. For a year or so I was a simple receptionist who had a terrible crush on one of the CEOs of the Brokerage. He was a terribly sexy muscle bear who could fulfill every Daddy fantasy I ever had. Unfortunately he didn't turn out to be the Bear Don Draper of my dreams. He did hire me though after we played footsy under the table during my job interview His Lesbian partner, a humorless, shrewd angry looking business woman, saw right through me on day one. (She sensed my gold digging desperation I guess.) She said I was too smart to be a receptionist and I would leave the job after a year. After her partner hired me, she arrived at work to see my chubby little frame beaming at her from the the front desk. She glared at me flinteyed and said "So Dick went over my head and hired you I see?" She flung the words at my face like they were acid and stomped off to give Dick hell. As she predicted, a year later I was hired by one of the top selling mortgage brokers "Stan Moretti " after an exhausting interview process by Stan and his loan processor, "Christine".

I liked that job. I liked my co-workers. I found that Mortgage Brokers weren't so different from actors and actresses. They were prone to histrionics and most of them had a Diva complex of some sort or another. The industry seemed well suited to my personality. However, this type of behaviour was frowned upon on by Team Moretti. Christine was a cool, vaguely stand offish Asian woman who revealed very little of her mischevious playful persona to me during the first year. The closer she got to people the more she opened up to them, and was likely to let her hair down and have a little fun. Once she befriended you she was fiercely loyal to you. She and Stan used to walk by my desk when I was a receptionist and often they didn't say hello. Christine wore designer knits and he was always decked out in some perfectly tailored suit.The two of them looked like a lovely San Francisco couple and it was rumored that they did more than just have lunch. You can imagine my dissappointment when I found out -really-all they did was go to lunch AND talk about loans. When they hired me, I would join them on Fridays and listen to them talk about loans. Stan paid for lunch at least. Stan would go back and forth on a type of loan until Christine assured him that she could make it work. I was basically their "yes" man. When I left the receptionist desk I took delight in the fact that our team was kind of elite. I nearly went bankrupt at Macy's trying to look the part.

Christine taught me MANY important things about how to handle people to get them to give you what you need. I used to say "Christine, why were you so nice to her? I thought you didn't like her." She'd turn and look at me -irritated that I had to ask a question like that and slow her progress on the loan-and sigh with resignation. She said slowly as if I was vaguely retarded, " We have to be nice to people in order for them to do what we want...right? "

Stan was my first male heterosexual boss I had in a long time. I was used to having female bosses. He was labeled a metrosexual because of his good taste and excellent grooming. Both of them were unstoppable in the loan biz. I always felt I added a much needed sense of humor as well as warmth to their robotic fervor of getting loans funded.( to be continued)

Two Families equals extra drama (continued)

2012-03-17T13:46:00.001-07:00

As Orlando and I settled on the couch the week before Christmas, Spike and Cordelia were still out of their minds with the kitty-tastic stimulation of Christmas. I was relieved that their destructive attentions were turned to wrapping paper and bows and the Christmas tree, instead of the couch and our curtains. I had just mixed a drink and handed it to Orlando. We had finished wrapping a pile of gifts and the room was a wrapping paper debacle with our kittens romping about in absolute glee. I handed him some chips and a fresh batch of guacamole. " Nice job honey.", and the phone rang. He didn't even get to sip his drink. His Mother was on the other line and he put her on speaker phone. " Hi Mami" She was extremely distressed. She was gasping and choking back sobs and not making much sense and immediately we both sprang into alarm mode. She spoke mostly in Spanish so I wasn't getting what was going on. (Yet another reminder to take a Spanish class.)

The gist was that Lando's Mom felt attacked verbally by her little sister in such a cruel way it upset her deeply. The content was unclear but it was an old family wound that upset her so much she wanted Orlando to come up and get her right away. - AND here is where I went in my head for just a second- " Oh my Mother wouldn't do that to me." The drawback to that is that my Mother might endure a very difficult situation and then remind me over and over and over that she handled it herself and I never had to worry about a thing. You see in my family we handle our drama with hurtful silences and in his family...nobody really keeps their feelings to themselves. We will get to my family later...

I looked at the clock. It was 8pm! If he left to pick up his Mother he wouldn't be back until at least 1AM in the morning !- that is if he drove non stop! This was unacceptable to me. I saw in his face that he was resolved to rescue his very distressed Mother. I gestured at him that she try to stick it out until the weekend and we will get her then-OR maybe Dan or Margaret could drive her to the Amtrak station the next morning? "Doesn't she realize you have to work in the morning??"The whole time I looked like I was doing a very badly played game of charades while he was trying to soothe his Mother. He was doggedly determined and assured her he would be there to pick her up. I knew I couldn't take the phone out of his hand and speak to her myself. My relationship with her wasn't that strong yet. As I listened to her I thought it was interesting that she did the same gasping hiccuping sob that my own Mother does when she cries. It tugged at me.

The another realization slammed into me ....omg LOOK AT THE HOUSE! IT'S NOT SUITABLE FOR MY POTENTIAL NEW MOTHER-IN-LAW. Orlando was putting on his pants and I was scooping up the wrapping paper. This was happening. Orlando's Mother was coming to stay with us. I kissed him as he went out the door and ran around like a chicken with it's head cut off. Then ...I stopped...

Wait a minute. Maybe I could prevent this? Now hold on a minute P.A. This never went well for Lucy when she stuck her nose in Ricky's Night Club business. Yet I realized I had a decent relationship with Margaret. After all, Margaret had confessed to me first about her new love while on Facebook one afternoon. Margaret and I were also fellow foodies. Unlike her family, Margaret ate a lot of fresh vegetables. This was one of our bonds. Orlando had deciphered through his Mother's sobs that she was alone in the house. Margaret had driven a rageful Irene off somewhere. This meant I could talk to Margaret and reason with Irene and maybe get the sisters to come to some sort of Peace treaty at least until Orlando and I can come up and get his Mother on the weekend. Then I can call Orlando and head him off at the pass and have him turn around and come home.

So I called Margaret. She was sitting in a car outside of a Casino trying to calm and sort things with her Mother. This out-of-control-squabble happened because Irene wanted to gamble and Lando's Mom thought she shouldn't. Margaret tried to explain to me what went down but - she didn't have a chance. Irene took the phone from her. She pressed the phone so tightly to her mouth, I had trouble understanding her words. Irene was sorry - very sorry our evening was disrupted and that Lando had to come up and fetch his Mother but not sorry enough to stop it apparently. She told me of her sister's jealousy of her life and it how critical she was and how she couldn't take it anymore and etc etc etc. I rapidly deduced there was no room for reasoning here. This was some sibling rivalry that I could not unravel. I had trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that Irene was portraying Lando's Mom as provocative given that the lady that I had met wasn't prone to making waves. Irene may have seemed loving and accepting but she was also dramatic. I resigned myself to the fact that I would see Orlando's Mother on our couch the following morning and said a sad good bye to Margaret and Irene and hung up.

Irene was not done. I guess she was still very angry at her sister and was determined to "stir the turd" (thank you Mrs. Sedaris*). She called me back because she was concerned for me. Silly me. I was actually bewildered. I asked why. She explained. Orlando's mother never trusted me. She never understood why her son hasn't asked me to marry him yet. (At the time that was true.) Irene went on to say if Lando's Mother says anything hurtful or cruel to me - which she probably will because she really doesn't like me, be sure not to react to it. She smashed the phone tighter to her mouth and whispered "Instead, when it's late at night, just mention it to Orlando when you guys are in bed together so she can't hear. In fact , you can tell him all this stuff I just told you now."

I paused for a long time and took it all in. This was in direct opposition to everything I knew to be true. Orlando's Mother had surprised everyone by reacting very positively to meeting me. She hugged me for crying out loud. She even told her own daughter how great I was. As I was hearing what Irene was saying, I was amazed, that I was able to decipher what she was up to. Normally I would've taken the bait and engaged in a tangle of wills with Orlando's Mother and well...it wouldn't have been pretty and Irene's little plan would have worked beautifully and her big sister would be sent back to Puerto Rico in tears or ...or ...My boyfriend would break up with me because I was mean to his Mother. I felt a brief surge of anger as I realized this. ...and I was hurt. I THOUGHT Irene liked me. Was she so pissed at her big sister she was going to throw me under the bus and break her nephew's heart too? whoa.... These Puerto Rican sisters fight dirty. I collected myself.

I spoke with a light tone" Okay Irene. Thanks for the warning. I'll take that under consideration. We will see you at Christmas. Take care now. Bye bye" I was still mind blown but I was working hard to brush it all off. Orlando and his Mother came through the door around 1:15. She looked completely embarrassed that any of this had to occur. I welcomed her and asked if she wanted some tea. She politely declined and she went to bed. I did wind up telling Lando quietly in bed -so his mother didn't hear. It wasn't the way Irene probably expected me to do it. He asked if I was ok. I said I was surprised that she would go that far. Orlando shrugged and explained that they fight like that sometimes and rolled over and went to sleep. Eventually, after a slightly uncomfortable visit with a couple a fun moments, she caught a flight back to Puerto Rico. She didn't spend Christmas with us. Margaret texted us at the LAST possible minute to say that the family wasn't coming for Christmas either. It wound up just being my brother and his fiance and our friends. I guess it was just as well because Orlando and I would not have survived that crowd 15 in our one bedroom apartment. Dinner should have been easy but I still ruined the roast.

*David Sedaris quoted his Mom in "The Christmas Whore"

Two Families equals extra fun and drama

2012-03-17T11:53:00.001-07:00

Orlando's Titi from Oroville called him the other night. She has been wanting to buy us some new kitchen gadget to celebrate our engagement. We don't need another kitchen gadget ,although I lust after plenty of fun things as I peruse the aisles of Sur le Table. I pointed out to him we do need some sauce pans - 2 and 3 quart cooking pots. I have a decent one from my old Revereware set but the two he uses are beginning to lose a non-stick coating and I don't want that to wind up in our food. I won't cook with them. Once he got over being offended about that ,he admitted to his Aunt that they were the greater need at present.

He was on the phone with her and they were looking on line at possible ideas for long lasting quality cooking pots. " Circulon!! " I called out as I got up and headed to the bedroom to put away some laundry and reflect a bit on his Aunt. She was Orlando's favorite Aunt and consequently became one of my favorite people. In 1989, when Orlando traveled to the West Coast he chose to go further North instead to the Mecca of San Francisco like I did. It was this particular Aunt that took him in to her family. He had recently come out of the closet and it had done a real number on his Mother, but his Aunt welcomed him with loving arms. Aunt Irene, (as we will call her for the purpose of of this story), was very much a child of the 60s and despite a strong conservative Puerto Rican up bringing she was very open and loving. She fell in love with "Dan"who came from an wealthy, but emotionally unavailable family. Dan couldn't help but be drawn to Irene's boistrous, loving nature and together they raised three interesting, engaging, lovely women. Orlando is close to his cousins.

The phone call currently taking place in the living room was the first we had heard from Irene since Christmas. Early in November of last year, Irene was having health complications and the youngest daughter was greatly unsatisfied with how her father and her middle sister were handling her Mother's care. Irene had back surgery and had contracted a MRSA infection. She also had diabetes which made all of this a deadly situation. "Sara" the youngest daughter did not think that her Dad could handle her Mother's care. According to Sara, he couldn't handle the sight of blood and would "take off" when it came to making hard core health decisions. In addition, there was "Margaret" Sara's enigmatic thirty-something, middle sister who lived at home with Dan and Irene, since dropping out of college. Margaret at the moment had A) fallen head over heels in love for the first time in her life and B) was on the brink of moving out on her own. Normally Margaret could be relied on to care for her Mother but years and years of being the family cook and maid had taken their toll and well...Margaret had had enough and was ready to take flight. It appeared that Margaret was finally finding herself. Its just that her timing sucked. Sara was beside herself. She lived in Oregon and was a research lab physician of sorts. She was taking a lot of time off to attend to this situation at home. She called Orlando at her wits end not knowing what to do which caused him to pay a visit to Oroville for one Saturday. Oakland to Oroville is about three hours by car. Then we went up the next two weekends together. The final result was a discussion bringing Orlando's Mom from Puerto Rico, who was retired, to stay and help with Irene's care. Lando's Mother used to care quite a bit for her baby sister when she was very young so..it would be like old times. It seemed like a natural solution!

That went well for about a week . Christmas was rapidly approaching. Sara taught Orlando's Mom everything to do for her mother so she could head back to Oregon knowing she would be in good hands. Orlando and I went up for one more visit so he could see his Mom. The household seemed a little tense to me and Dan's reticence for caring for his wife was non-existent as far as I could see. He even gave her an insulin injection in front of me. Orlando's Mom seemed bored and uncomfortable but Orlando told me that is just the expression on her face naturally. We headed back to Oakland and I was gearing up for a HUGE Christmas dinner involving all these people and my brother and his fiance and our friends, except his family would never come.

(To be Continued)

Spike and Cordelia

2012-02-20T17:56:00.002-08:00

Steve McKenna and his wife Teri are about the folksiest laid back recovering flower children Orlando and I had ever met. Whatever they did to conform to the constraints of the twenty first century, it had netted them a nice house in the Toni Rockridge district of Oakland. It had a lovely porch that welcomed us in from the wet leaf-strewn streets.There was a sign saying to watch for the kittens when opening the door. Clearly we were at the right place.


The kids in action

Steve seems like the local history professor with a very gentle demeanor. He wasn't a professor though, I think he had a tech job in Hayward. Teri comes off like a cross between a bawdy saloon owner and your standard Berkeley Earth mother. They seemed like very happy people ,which I felt boded well for this potential adoption. The house had the same "come in relax and hang out" feel as an apartment I had once lived in on Guerrero Street in San Francisco in the early 90s. ( That apartment was also run by an "earth matriarch".) On the floor were two little kittens around a month and a half old -perhaps 2. One was a cream colored short hair with deep blue eyes. Teri explained to me that she had named him, Blue-temporarily of course -she interjected, until we came up with a name for him. The little Calico with the long hair was named Cordelia. Steven explained that Teri supplies the names usually. We made some small talk as the kittens darted all around us. We talked a lot about our mutual connection, my friend Helen, who had set this little meeting up. They brought out pictures showing them together back in the 60s. To me, Helen didn't look all that different then she did back then, but Teri and Steve had changed considerably. Teri's body had become more zaftig in her mother persona and Steve's full locks of hair were now a receding cap on his head.

Orlando set about trying to acquaint himself with Cordelia and Blue while I was chatting with Steve. He looked concerned as they raced up a curtain and then started to sharpen their claws on the living room couch. I glanced over and read his mind accessing the damage control we had ahead of us.To be blunt- Steve and Teri didn't exactly have a house of designer furniture. There was a very paisley fabric-draped Bohemian feel to the whole place. I picked up Cordelia. She was tiny and soft-as one likes in kittens. She had one eye outlined in with a small layer of black skin and the other was not. It made one eye look larger than the other. It gave her a very Clockwork Orange vibe. The smaller eye began to weep a little and you saw evidence of dried eye gunk near the corner. Teri said she wiped it every so often, but the Vet said her eyes were otherwise fine. Cordelia wanted to pop down and play on the floor with her brother and really wasn't all that interested in getting to know me. Teri seemed puzzled and a little distressed as she explained that they normally are very affectionate and attentive to people. I took in to account that "people" meant them , as opposed to strangers with different smells and attitudes.

We watched them play a bit more and chatted. I had never seen two kittens that had come from the same litter but appeared to be different breeds. To add to the puzzle -these two also had a sister (recently adopted) who was a short hair butterscotch tabby. The feral Mom must have had a very interesting night when she was in heat. She gave birth to a cat that looked cream colored Siamese, (Blue's pretty blues were vaguely cross-eyed), a long haired calico tabby and the yellow short hair tabby.

Teri and Steve loved these kittens. They spent a lot of time with them. They said they had a daughter somewhere who cared for them as well. She may have been out just being a teenager that night. I suspect watching the babies she raised get new parents would be too much of an ordeal.
Orlando looked at me with that expectant look..almost challenging. His eyes said, " Do you like them?" I looked down at them one more time and nodded that I did. "Blue" ran over to the open litter box in the next room and laid the most odoriferous bowel movement and both of our eyes began to water. Uh oh. How could such a tiny kitty make such a terrible smelling shit?

Steve and Teri were trying to close the deal before the over-scent sensitive Gay men changed their minds. Orlando thought it was funny, but the expression on my face trying to ignore the befouled air-as well as taking in the shock that he had done this in the neighboring room and not under us was all too readable. Orlando pointed out how good it was that they knew how to use the litter box. Teri and Steve enthusiastically and simultaneously said, " oh yes yes - both of them use their litter box without fail!" Teri's gravel toned voice quickly threw in the cat tree which Cordelia had just raced up and was eyeing me speculatively from. I looked at Orlando and he asked, "Really? We can have the Cat tree?" We had been looking at them in Costco and the more interesting ones ran 70 to 80 dollars. It's beige carpet would blend in with my carefully thought out -and soon to be ruined- Bed Bath and Beyond/Target/JC Penny Decor. I looked over at little Cordelia and she arched her back to stretch and chirruped a "hello" at me. I said yes immediately.

They had a few cats already that they were caring for. Blue and Cordelia were going to be too much of a financial burden. They were true lovers of cats, but at the same time, I had this sense, that Teri and Steve did not want to turn into the local crazy neighborhood cat hoarders. Giving away these two kittens would assist them in that goal. They went all out for these animals. They even had the kittens spayed and neutered! Having a pet can be expensive and they apparently had put a lot of money into their local veterinarian with their current felines. Their generosity was beyond anything I had encountered. They lent us their cat carrier thankfully, because we only had a cardboard box. Steve kind of urged us to hurry before he displayed some unseemly unmasculine emotional attachment. He had a beer on the table waiting for him to ease his pain a bit. He had papers to prove that they were fixed but he couldn't dig them up at the moment. We offered them some money, but they politely declined. It was more important to them knowing that the babies were going to a good home. We agreed to get their vet papers when we returned the cat carrier. Many fond farewells took place and I said I would give progress reports.

Before we knew it we were racing back on 580 to our apartment. The kittens were in the carrier on my lap huddled against each other for safety and breathing rapidly. I figured they were reverting to the "sit still and don't make a noise" until Mom killed or scared away the predator. They appeared frightened but weren't peeing or yowling uncontrollably. This was a good thing. I talked to them in this silly baby high pitched voice unbecoming for a 47 year old man. It seemed to relax them.

We followed a friend's advice and set up camp for them in the bathroom until they had adjusted to the change in residence a little bit better. I saw a tiny black speck move around on Blue's cream colored fur and he reached around to scratch it. " Good thing we bought the flea shampoo. They are going to need it." I mulled it over and told Orlando that "Blue" was not an easy name for me to call out and it didn't sit right in my head. Whereas Cordelia seemed appropriately named. I would call her Cordy for short. Her Clockwork Orange eye gave her a sense of mischief or wickedness. It was a nice companion to her brother's goofy blue crossed eye. I asked Orlando, " Didn't the character Spike on Buffy the Vampire Slayer have a mate named Cordelia? "
" Nope that was Drusilla. Cordelia was Angel's partner on the Angel series."
"Don't you think his fur is the same color as James Marsden's hair from that series? Not the natural color he wears on that British show but Buffy"
" Kinda- yeah - sure..."
"I am going to call him Spike."

Spike's name sake

Orlando looked surprised. " You're going to name a cat Spike? But he's not evil or wicked- like Spike. At least Cordelia does seem like a fearless spoiled sorority girl."
" I like the whole juxtaposition of his sweet goofy persona and having the name Spike, I think he's a lot like the Spike that had a crush on Buffy. Remember how goofy he got over her?"

" Okay then, Spike and Cordelia it is."

Life with Kitties -the beginning

2012-02-11T11:25:00.000-08:00


P.A. Cooley Cat Lover

I don't know what I am any longer except perhaps Orlando's boyfriend and an Admissions Director to a Skilled Nursing Facility. I feel less and less connected to people around me, (despite my horrific Facebook addiction). Ever since I have declared myself an ordinary bear and no longer the Diva Cub of all time, all of my life's issues have become so mundane. Perhaps this would explain my why I have so vigorously begun a new persona: Pet owner and proud father of two adopted feral kittens.

The cat idea was really not mine at first. Orlando and I knew we wanted pets eventually. (The idea of children stealing all my attention was more than I could handle and quite frankly Orlando is a strong believer in children should be seen and not heard. These are excellent reasons why neither of us would make very good parents. So pets it was) This led to the selection of our current apartment because they DO accept pets, but we had originally discussed getting a dog. As most would agree, cats are fairly self sufficient if they have enough food and a clean litter box. Dogs require far more attention. Hell -I kinda felt a dog was as big of a time investment as a kid would be. ..Sorta

The dog idea was shelved until after we had the ultimate grown-up-no-time-with-family-vacation that we have been planning in our heads forever. Currently I am agonizing about budgets and upcoming family weddings on the East Coast. I shamefully confess to you now that have never really been ACROSS THE ATLANTIC -or Pacific for that matter. My mother the anglophile, didn't make it to England until she was in her SIXTIES!!! (She went with her former Sisters-n-law and they still joke about their driving misadventures almost 40 years later.) I don't want some pictures of me looking thoughtful and wondrous at the Leaning Tower of Pisa at 62. I want the Gay Italian men to whistle at me as I walk through the streets of Rome before I have completely lost my sex appeal.

So Orlando and I decided to adopt a cat. Then it got to the point that we realized we'd be gone 8 to 9 hours a day of the work week so we thought TWO cats to keep themselves company would be the ideal situation. Then my -save-all-the-old-things-and-people-in-the-world got the better of me, and I said I wanted to adopt an older adult cat. I wanted to save a cat that someone could no longer care for. Orlando was adamant in his preference of a kitten because he wanted the kitten to get used to us as opposed to us getting used to an adult cat's ways. I began to fret about how it would be for a kitten and an older cat to be thrown in a new environment, forcing them to get along with each other. We went to the Oakland SPCA.

Our first trip was unsuccessful. We met these two sleek silver bullet brothers who were approximately 4 months old. Difficult to tell them apart visually but they each had two distinct personalities. One boy was eager to meet us and loved crawling all around us and even purred a bit. The other one didn't seem to like to be touched. I couldn't handle that. It had been 30 years since I had been a pet owner and I wasn't sure I could re-socialize the boy into being handled and eventually settling down to an adult lap kitty. Orlando kept looking at me expectantly. I narrowed my eyes in irritation. "Remember? I wanted an adult cat? They have less chance of being adopted?..." The two silver bullet brothers raced madly around us in the Oakland SPCA Cat Playroom. Orlando seemed conflicted too. He started thinking about the damage the two little fellas could wreak in our home but his eyes danced in delight as he watched them do these fantastically acrobatic twists to capture the little mouse at the end of the stick that he made dance tauntingly for them. They were fascinating to watch. It struck me odd how brave and affectionate one brother behaved and how tentative the other brother was. It had been so long since I had spent any close time with animals that I was beginning to make assumptions like they all behaved the same. For some mysterious reason I had blocked out ALL my childhood cat personalities. I had forgotten about my old butterscotch tabby Mo's kingly prowling and personal allegiance to me. I had forgotten Sheba's ( Burmese Black tabby mix) elegant stand offish air and keen intelligence. How could I forget Butkis-Sheba's son - A gray tiger tabby? Named after the football player Dick Butkis. He LOVED to be vacuumed. Yup! He'd roll right over and my mother would just suck the fleas right off his belly with this Hoover that sounded like a train. There was NOTHING elegant about ButtKiss!

We left the Oakland SPCA without the boys. I could smell Orlando's desperation that kitten season was nearing it's end. I thought about the big comfortable lonely looking lap kitties I had seen sitting in the cages. Now I was getting cranky. Orlando was getting crankier. Another 2 weeks went by and we found ourselves back on a much better scheduled visit to the Oakland SPCA. After an industrious visit to Pet Club our apartment was outfitted with the necessary ingredients for two rambunctious baby kitties. Regrettably and begrudgingly, I decided to think economically about being a new pet owner, and felt that if I had adopted an older feline then I was looking at vet bills sooner rather than later. Orlando had finally persuaded me two kittens was a better route to go. Despite his obvious joy and glee at the thought of two little puffballs in the house, I still felt guilty. We both had negotiated to get kittens as young as we could possibly get. Teeny puffballs that could barely walk were the preference.

The silver bullets were still there and a bit bigger , but I told Orlando we shouldn't take them out and play with them. As we wove through the facility it became glaringly apparent there were no baby kittens tonight. I could feel the growing tension of Orlando's frustration. A sweet black and white female tabby about 4 months old was meowing at me from her cage. I stuck my finger in to pet her and she rubbed her face against it eagerly. He could see I was enchanted. Orlando started to look angry." I thought we decided nothing older than a month!"

" I know I know." I back pedaled. " I was thinking she looked like the cat my friend Alilah described she used to have and maybe she would be a good fit for her" Orlando began to grumble. He wanted the kitties tonight. Roughly $170 worth of food and litter and the toys and bedding and scratchers were all sitting in a pile in our living room and we weren't going to be bringing home any kitties. His frustration began to peak as he heard from the pudgy shiny, SPCA volunteer that kitten season was indeed over. He began his Fred Flintstone roaring as we approached the car. My mind was desperately thinking of something to say to make him calm down. I knew a good deal of this was directed at me because I was being so particular. At this stage of the game, he would've scooped up any 2 cats in that facility and brought them home with us. There was a brief discussion of bringing home the friendly silver bullet boy and sweet black and white tabby girl - but there was no way in hell that I could have lived with the thought of separating those brothers, especially since one of them seemed autistic!!! The happy socialized cat would need to be with his special needs brother so that the special needs brother could learn to interact with the outside world by imitating him. You can imagine the expression on Orlando's face as I explained this to him. He did the "angry face scrub". You know -the thing where you are so mad you just furiously rub the mad off your face to the best of your ability?? I think Schemp on the Three Stooges used to do it all the time.

We rode home in stony silence but Orlando kept barking out foods he'd like to eat to calm himself down. PIZZA! BURGERS! ICE CREAM!! I timidly suggested he pull over and I'd treat.

Mom's Birthday Dinner

2012-01-23T19:52:00.000-08:00

So - Here it is January 2012 and I am still prattling on about my trip to New York and Vermont. I just wanted to finish up my scrapbook today and let you know that Mom's Birthday dinner was a huge success. There was a little bit of a panic as Orlando had to deal with a flat tire on our rental, in what felt like a very humid sticky Indian Summer. Aerial Restaurant was a hit with the family. Everyone was all smiles! She did indeed have a very Happy Birthday.

Remember when she asked me to think of all the things she did well? I did. In my Birthday toast I mentioned them. Family members all nodded in agreement with me. All agreed she is indeed an accomplished cook -noted for her fantastic raspberry pies and lasagnas. Everyone also agreed she is a talented actress with excellent comic timing. (She retired from the amateur stage in her 60s). Most of all, she is a good mother. As her sons, we all felt loved and cherished and important growing up. I could have gone on and on about her being a brilliant Art teacher, a great story teller and a wonderful hostess but the Mother part seemed to be the natural conclusion.

My father and my eldest brother had some terrible issues allowing me to grow up would not let Orlando and I pay for this dinner. Orlando and I had budgeted for this trip. Albeit it was pricy-it was possible that the whole thing would be paid off with a couple of months. I was unsuccessful in fighting off my brother's fistful of cash he shoved at me , and poor Orlando was cornered by Dad. My father -not known for histrionics of ANY sort-gave an impassioned teary plea to accept a check- worthy of Sarah Bernhardt that left Orlando quaking in his shoes. I was angry for about 10 minutes but I thought about what Dan-my brother had said. " You did a good thing here tonight." He wanted to be a part of it. Dad - still wants to be my Dad. My brother still wants to be my big brother Okay Family - you can be still be my family. I decided to accept my brother's judgement of the evening.

Evening Visit to Burlington Vermont Sept 2011

2012-01-08T13:26:00.000-08:00

The night before Mom's big soiree dinner, I was fretting to Orlando about us not having a place to put our heads to rest before the early flight back on Sunday Morning. The flight back to the West Coast was leaving at 5:45AM . Leaving from the Inn didn't seem feasible since it was an hour and a half from the airport. I had twiddled my thumbs and not scheduled a motel in Burlington -the city of our departure-in a timely manner. So now we were looking at dozing in the Airport until it was time to go. I hate REDEYEs and I hate having to give up my zzzzzs. Orlando casually suggested we could call Syndi and Bones. Syndi was an actress friend from College who had -in my 20+ year abscence, -become the Queen of local community theater scene. Her husband Bones is a local musician. It would've made sense to call her because she and Bones had a relatively new beautiful house and plenty of room. I just didn't want to be an imposition-yet again. Through the years Syndi & Bones have always been there for me as I traveled across the country to visit friends and family. They always had the house for me to crash in.

I didn't think I would have time to visit any of my Burlington friends due to all the family obligations I had arranged-so I didn't. I was too embarrassed to call Syndi now that I was in Vermont, but my fretting was all for naught. I called Syndi and she secretly helped arrange a surprise visit with Bob Bolyard -our other mutual cronie. Orlando and I were going to surprise Bob at his weekly stint as Karaoke master at the St John's Club. Syndi had readily and enthusiastically agreed to help us out hosting us for the overnight the next Saturday. We had fun watching Bob (aka Mr. Burlington) host his show. We even met some cute homosexual youth! Syndi joined us later from her annual Theater Company meeting awards dinner. She brought her entourage with her and I was delighted to see quite a few old friends in the group. An amusing exchange took place between my college friend Kelly Kendall and myself. She had no recollection of being my roommate for 3 months and I had no recollection of attending her wedding! It was fantastic to see Bob in his element and looking so happy. I thought for just a moment, how much I missed Bob and Syndi. I envisioned hanging out with Kelly again, and Mike and everyone else. I thought how nice it would be to move back to Burlington. My life in the Bay Area had hit that snag and well ...did I want to go home again? Could I ever convince Orlando? Given Orlando's feelings of cold weather, it was doubtful.

Our Stay in Brookfield Vermont Sept 2011

2012-01-04T22:27:00.000-08:00

As I said, We needed some respite from Mom's smoking. She actually understood that we needed some more vacation time. I booked us a couple of nights at the Green Trails Inn in Brookfield Vermont. Brookfield is basically the Inn and a Church and a very good restaurant. There used to be TWO very good restaurants - now there is one: Ariels Restaurant. Never been? GO ! www.arielsrestaurant.com.
The Food was amazing there. The town's biggest claim to fame is The floating bridge-which cars can no longer go over but people may. The Green Trails was also low frills homey and lovely as well. Internet is sketchy and there is no TV but InnKeeper Jane knows her way around the kitchen as evidenced by our delicious breakfasts. I even didn't mind that I was dining with Republican Texans in the morning -that's how yummy the coffee cake was! Does it justify the hefty price? Maybe. I think the exciting part of the trip was learning that Jane was good friends with one of the ladies that my Dad dated after he divorced my Mom. It was clear that she had an opinion about my old man, but she didn't hold it against me. Jane liked the Gays. Would I go back? I would. Would Orlando? No...He needs a TV at those prices. I'm okay with a good book and my Ipod.

I've included a set of pictures of us picking apples at a nearby Orchard -Cool huh?


Jane the Innkeeper. Heluva Baker!

The Rest of Vermont cont...

2012-01-04T21:44:00.000-08:00

Cousin Sara Tucker has always been a bit of an inspiration to me. She -like myself -is a recovering thespian. However she is a now successful writer who has editors and everything. These days she is also a caretaker to her very spunky mother- and another favorite Aunt of mine-Idora. (Sister to Ruth and Charles ) Sara has inspired her Mother to take up writing too. Idora has written several smaller books about various periods of her life. Sara very generously invited us up to their house in Randolph for a delicious Fish Chowder lunch. A lovely one-on-one moment of catching up washing dishes together and then we all went down to a gallery where her husband Patrick was keeping shop and we had apple pie. The whole afternoon left me with the feeling of the importance of family and how fortunate I was.

Mom actually held up that day. Idora and Ruth are fans of hers, so...that helped. : )

The Rest of Vermont

2012-01-04T20:33:00.000-08:00

So the remainder of our trip to Vermont held quite a few highlights. I do not take notes but I do take photographs. I thought I would share with you the rest of our vacation in a photo style. If there was something controversial or interesting to tell you believe me - I would've written it down.
Other than Orlando's rental getting a flat and a fellow guest at the Green Trails Inn locking us out in the rain, the rest of our visit with my family and friends was really quite lovely. Well here. Why don't you take a look?

My accomplished Aunt Ruth has just published a book. She had invited us to her home for lunch. She is one of the extraordinary cooks in the family and served us a delicious beef stew. In all the decades she has lived in one of the more rural parts of Randolph Center Vermont, this marks my first visit to her home. She and my father now live together.


Dad hard at work waiting for dinner

Back at Home with Mom September 2011

2011-12-27T21:44:00.001-08:00

Dear readers: I apologize for the long absence here is the continuation of our vacation blog

I once read a scathing story about how poorly Martha Stewart treated her mother during the filming of one of her holiday specials. Apparently she was serving up some sort of stew to her TV guests in a hollowed out squash bowls and her 80 plus mother wasn’t properly dishing it into the squashes. She asked the cameras to stop and she gave her mother what for right there in front of the cast and crew. She hurled a few invectives and pointed out her mother’s incompetence repeatedly and made her do it again until she got it right. When she was relatively satisfied with the old ladies performance she asked the cameras to roll to catch it and her mother somewhat shaken carried on trying not to look too ruffled. Apparently Martha’s Mom was used to being spoken to like this. When I read that I was horrified-really I was. Now in retrospect, I am not entirely sure the tale had a shred of truth to it. After all- Martha got rich and successful by being fairly uncompromising and expecting a lot out of others. That sort of thing can come back and bite you in the ass. ( Or so I have heard) I always figured when I became rich and famous I would go the “Liberace route” and treat MY Mom very well giving her the best and spoiling her something fierce. She always did well by me so it seemed it only natural to return the favor. Unfortunately I didn’t have Liberace’s or Martha’s Money, I only had my common sense which I felt gave me a very good idea as to what’s best for my mother. Unfortunately, she always had trouble coming around to my way of thinking.

After our pizza dinner we bid Momma good night and Orlando and I settled into the 30 year old twin mattresses, in my mother's guest room. My nasal passages were irritated. My mother is a smoker. She is hardcore about it too. Growing up I was immune to it, but after a year of living away from home I found coming home to be unpleasant on the ole nostrils. After being away for 4 or 5 years and returning I began to notice just how MUCH my mother smoked and how BADLY she required her cigarettes. When she lit up in her tiny kitchen it drove me three rooms away, because there was no ventilation. My last summertime visit to my home was cloyingly humid and I arrived only to give her a brief hug and start begging my brother to help me remove the storm windows and pull the ancient rusted screens down. "THIS is what you should do Mother if you are going to CONTINUE to smoke-always always have the windows open so the SMOKE HAS SOMEWHERE TO GO." She'd fidget and look somewhere between embarrassed and angry-but mostly angry. Her favorite sitting spots became apparent as the little yellowy brown nicotine stains formed above on the ceiling. The irony was that at all the while I was admonishing her during my visits to Vermont, I'd fly back to San Francisco and attend a party, have a few cocktails and inevitably bum a cigarette from a friend. I am 47 now and have learned the damage that even one cigarette can do to me. My sedentary lifestyle and high blood pressure and family history of heart disease are the perfect ingredients to add to a cigarette to give me a heart attack. No kidding folks. It also helps that Orlando is a reformed smoker. He is just like any other addict and says there are many days when he craves a smoke but neither of us wants to "kiss an ashtray." The Cigarette is an enormous sense of comfort to my Mother and a major discomfort to the rest of her family. It wasn't always that way. As little Cooley boys, perfume and cigarettes made us think of Mommy. My brother Peter had a real problem forever trying to break the cycle of dating women who smoked. Thank God he finally did. We all did. Particularly me lol. I never could tolerate kissing a smoker unless I was blind drunk.

Mom has since downsized and sold the home I grew up in and moved to an apartment which –oddly enough-is about as big as the 200 year old Farmhouse she raised me in. Tomorrow was my Mother's true 80th Birthday even though we were celebrating it with family on Saturday. Orlando and I had arranged for dinner out at a restaurant in Montpelier with just her and my father. It was always iffy when Dad spent time with my Mother. They had been divorced since I was 19 years old. He lived a half an hour away from her in the town of Randolph. Since the divorce, Mother had a pattern of "wearing down" after spending more than say 2 hours with my Dad. This could happen sooner if my father chose to engage in a teasing session, which was never handled with good humor.If I caught it in time I'd squash it before it went too far, but sometimes he didn't just tease her. He would do simple thoughtless things -like arrive to her home and expect the family pattern to resume of her waiting on him. He might sit in her seat where she always sits, and then she wouldn't say anything about it and stifle her irritation only to have it erupt at a bizarre moment during a quiet family conversation. Or she would go outside and smoke. I was always at the ready like a fireman with my water hose to put out the potential flame. Lando sensed my tension and frequently rubbed my shoulders and hands through out our stay but he also thought I was over reacting a tad. Remember he comes from a Puerto Rican Family. They raise their voices. My family just raises their eyebrows…in disapproval at people who raise their voices.

We arrived the next night in at the restaurant in a timely manner. I sniffed my favorite cashmere sweater and wrinkled my nose at the scent of tobacco. I looked over at Lando and he gave a knowing sympathetic look back which honestly I didn't expect. Earlier that afternoon I had just gotten a lecture about how maybe I had expected too much out of my 80 year old mother. After all, (he pointed out) didn't I work in a place where many were under 80, but were in such bad shape they had to live in a skilled nursing facility? Wasn't it remarkable that my mother was so mobile and doing so much with her life? I thought about it and yes. Perhaps I was taking her for granted. He had witnessed me suggesting how she organize her freezer, organize her time, explore her creative side, etc etc etc. I had TONS of suggestions for my Mother for how she could make her life better but I didn't seem to have anything to say how well she had DONE. Being the sensitive lady she was she frequently had more cigarettes on the porch the more suggestions I made.

Dad said that he and Mom should split their dinner once he saw the prices on the menu. Orlando and I reminded him he wasn't paying for dinner and he frowned disapprovingly and continued to badger my mother with his idea of splitting the filet mignon. There was logic to it considering they both ate like birds but hey -it was her 80th birthday for cryin out loud. I could see he was getting the best of her hearing her vaguely controlled yet frustrated protests that she wanted her own dinner. I calmly reminded her it was her night and Dad didn't have any say in the evening. She just sat there and looked like she wanted a cigarette. "How about a cocktail?", I suggested. Our sweet 12 year old waitress wasn't as fast or as savvy as I would've liked, but this was Vermont and she looked apple cheeked and wholesome and endearing instead. The margarita arrived which helped and the talk came to appetizers, and O & I suggested the fried calamari. I was thinking she would love it because she was a huge fan of deep fried clam strips and well hey -"la meme chose" -in my opinion. I really didn't get far because she knew calimari was squid and recoiled at the thought. I made the mistake of persisting. I even told the waitress that we would like a platter. My mother snapped at the poor child, " Aren't you going to ask ME what I WANT??" before she she even had a chance to. "Well of course Mam" the flustered little girl said. There was confusion. Mom thought we were EACH getting a plate of calimari. Most folks over 80 can't handle an appetizer -let alone finish an entire entree. I mentioned as much in a very domineering tone. That's another thing my family is good at. Tones. As the waitress walked away mother burst out that SHE REALLY DIDN'T WANT THE CALIMARI, SHE WANTED THE CHEESE NACHOS INSTEAD!! I stared at her as a parent would a willful out-of-control child. Orlando pressed his hand against mine and said in a low insistent tone that meant business "honey-go get the waitress and change our order NOW." I knew to the very CORE of my soul that my mother would LOVE the calimari and that she was behaving badly due to too much Charlie (my Dad) exposure but arguing the point right now was clearly going to be to my detriment. I rushed after the child waitress and smiled as sweetly as I could but she still looked frightened. I spoke gently. "sweetheart, would you be so kind as to change that appetizer order to the nachos please?" She bobbed her head vigorously and dashed off. For a second I thought that maybe I had scared her. Before I returned to my seat I stopped the bartender and pointed out our table. I told him to never let the lady's Margarita's run dry. He said he'd do his best. I returned to the table and my mother carefully avoided my gaze but I brought about this false bright tone to try to brush off the calimari/nacho outburst. Orlando was good at being his jovial self as per usual and my Dad really loves chatting with him. When her second cocktail came out, I brought my phone up to take a picture of her enjoying it but my camera wasn't focusing properly and I was chiding my phone for improperly working-but Mother mistook that as criticism directed at her. She fidgeted & turned to my father and said, "see? he's doing it again!" and Orlando piped up with " His Phone Lois !!! He's yelling at his phone -not you!" That seemed to calm her.

The rest of the meal went without incident. The waitress came back and took some mediocre pictures of all of us with Dad's very expensive Nikon. We tipped her well. Birthday wishes were granted. Dad drove home and Orlando and I watched a little TV on her little TV while she headed up to bed. Before she went upstairs she stuck her head into the TV from and said, " You might want to start thinking of all the good things I've done in my life." I raised my eyebrows at her and said in an even tone. " I might?" "Yes" she said, "You might. ...Good night." I smiled. " Okay….I will...Night Mom"

I was prepared that I would want some "vacation time" in Vermont as well. I had a visit with my Aunties scheduled and then I had booked a couple nights at a bed and breakfast where no smoking was allowed.

You should know that my mother sent me an email a few days later when I returned to Oakland. She said, " My friends said I should've tried the Calimari."

The Bingo Bitch and coming Home

2011-10-26T23:00:00.000-07:00

Our Happy Hour visit concluded with the James and Tim, and we said our goodbyes and walked towards the bars in Greenwich Village. At the Eagle we had heard that Bingo at The historic Stonewall Inn was THE thing to do on a Monday night for Gay New Yorkers. I was excited simply because I was going to be at Stonewall and Orlando was kinda jazzed about playing Bingo. A drag queen was the hostess for the game and unbeknownst to me she had been doing it for a very long time. We arrived at the Bar when we thought everything was supposed to begin. I saw a very large, fatigued , platinum blonde drag queen who looked like she had had a very long night the evening before. She was setting things up for the Bingo game. We presumed she was the emcee. It was puzzling to us that the event was scheduled at 9PM and she was just finishing setting up 9:10 and there were only a few people drinking at the bar. Orlando, looking very much like an excited 6 year old- went up to her to clarify the starting time. She reared back a bit with this look of indignation and said, " Speak English, I can't understand what you're saying." Orlando was astonished because he was quite sure he hadn't slipped into Spanish, so he repeated the question about when the game started. She tried to focus on what he was saying, and her face screwed itself into the expression of an angry grotesque looking toad. "Where are you from? " she asked with sarcastic incredulity. He paused a bit, unsure whether he wanted to continue receiving this attitude and then told her. She snorted in disgust when she heard the answer, but gave him the information about when the game usually got going in a weary why-do-I-Have-to-deal-with-this-tone. She then lumbered to the other side of the room to continue setting up. Orlando came back to me brows furrowed. "We're not playing fuckin Bingo with that Bitch! I'm not supporting her game." "Oh?" I said with a false bright tone. When he was offended, it was best to just listen and go with the flow. She royally ticked him off with the "Speak English" comment and I have to admit, when she said "Where are you from?" it came off like " Bitch-do you know who I am? I patted Orlando and told him with all the drinking we had just done we might as well have dinner anyway. It looked to me that the Drag Queen had had a very hard night the previous night. Her makeup had a sweat-shiny see-through quality to it making me think that every movement she made required an inordinate amount of effort. When we returned to the Bay Area we later learned that this queen -whose name is Kenny Dash, is a Bitch. I mean to say thats her schtick- BEING a mean bitch to the Bingo participants. Had Orlando known that going in to the bar, he may have been entertained by their little dialogue but I doubt it. I also was told that Kenny can be a fairly good natured conversationalist given the right conditions, but it was rare.

So we ate. We saw many restaurants but it was this elderly little Italian guy that came out and saw us looking at the menu that made us go in. He claimed to be the owner. The food was pretty good. Now only if they could get it in the right order. They brought out my entree when they brought out Orlando's salad course. The waiter was beside himself with apology. We finished our meal. It was our last night in New York. We popped into a few other bars, but the evil jet lag was still there and a good heavy Italian meal-no matter what order it was served-was like taking a giant sleeping pill. We went back to the hotel and went to sleep.

As we drove out of the city the next day, I said goodbye to every building I could. I promised the city we would be back soon. Before I knew it -we were in Vermont and I was at my Mother's front door. Sniff …Sniff Sniff. Not too bad. I was smelling for cigarette smoke. My mother is a chronic smoker and I expected the house to reek like an ashtray. She lives in a two bedroom two bath apartment that has two floors. She moved here more than a few years ago when she sold the house I grew up in. It was good to see my Mama but that cigarette smoke was going to be a serious issue for Orlando and I. After giving her a good hug, I glanced over at her special sitting chair at the kitchen table. This is the place where she sits and schedules and plans and reads and annotates and smokes a cigarette while she does it all. I looked up at the ceiling and there was no yellowy brown spot there…..yet. ( To be Continued)

Jimmy and Timmy or James and Tim

2011-10-24T19:59:00.000-07:00

After our little carriage ride through the park, I had expressed a very touristy interest in traveling to the top of the Empire State Building. I confirmed with James (aka Jimmy to me) on the phone about cocktails at the Gym Bar, at approximately 6:30 in Chelsea. He suggested we skip the Empire State Building and head over to the top 40 Rockefeller Plaza, since we were right there anyway. The view promised to be just as breathtaking and not nearly as crowded. I informed Orlando of Jimmy’s suggestion and Orlando took the word “Rockefeller” and heard the word “Chrysler” instead. So without me knowing it he took me to the Chrysler building when I was thinking the whole time that we were headed to 40 Rock. In the end, I was excited to see the Chrysler building anyway, because there was a familiar idiom I grew up hearing my mother say and I wanted to see if it was true. The infrequent times my Mother was industrious about housecleaning she would always say, “ I want the floor to shine like the top of the Chrysler building.” I had no real picture in my mind of the top of the Chrysler building but I had a made up one. I figured it was flat and very shiny. When we arrived to the Chrysler building we learned that people are not allowed to travel to the top. Luckily the lobby provided much beauty to admire.

Another expression I grew up hearing came from a harried friend who used to babysit these absolute hellcat children. She’d always answer the phone with their screams and shrieks in the background saying, “Grand Central Station, how may I help you?”. Well I finally got to see Grand Central Station too!!! Now –as I think back on it, I don’t know how my friend ever picked up the expression. I suppose she got it from some TV show. To the best of my knowledge she only had been in Vermont and rarely left the state anymore than I did in that time period. She was too busy raising horses.

After a brief period of refreshment back the Chelsea Pines, we headed over to the bar to meet Jimmy and his partner Tim. I couldn't believe I was going to finally meet Tim. ….ok...I know I know – Jim and Tim it's too cute right? It is probably why there is “James” these days. ( I think I would’ve done the same thing if I were Jimmy. ) When they first started dating I think I teased him mercilessly on the phone about it crowing “ Jimmy and Timmy !!! “ and then cackling with glee. Jimmy is very discreet. In fact he probably hates that I am blogging about him right now but he IS an actor and he might as well get used to people writing about him. His partner Tim, on the other hand is very used to having opinions being written about himself. Tim Acito is a playwright who had success with an Off Broadway Musical called “Zanna Don’t" I was lucky enough to see his musical produced at the very same theater that I did some fundraising for when I was the Bay Area Cub 2010. The musical is downright adorable. It's about a world, at a high school , where homosexuality is the way nature is intended and heterosexuality is considered freakish. There's magic too! A cute, sexy, young man with a wand skips around the High School like Cupid making people fall in love with one another. The play was a hit for the New Conservatory Theater Center in San Francisco and the casting of some plus sized folk, with real bodies seemed to add to its appeal. The Musical is a rather joyful, bouncy, show but certainly not without its edge.

I was a bit nervous about meeting Tim. If he was a successful New York playwright -would that mean he would be an asshole? The men that Jimmy dated in San Francisco nearly 20 years ago were all across the map personality-wise so I only had this show to base Tim's personality on. I was such a butter head I couldn't honestly remember Jimmy telling me a lot about him. I knew he had told me some things on one visit because I had pressed him but the information from Jimmy was -as usual -so carefully non-descriptive. Clearly I am the blabbermouth girlfriend of the two of us. I thought an awful lot about "Zanna Don't" and the show it was and the messages it conveyed. I don't think a jerk could've thought that up. Then I remembered when I produced the P.A. Cooley Show many years ago that "P.A. Cooley" kind of became everybody else's idea of who "P.A. Cooley" should be about and well -gosh I was just so grateful that they were helping me out for next to nothing -who was I to say anything? ….Oh that's right -I was P.A. Cooley. So I imagine with the meteoric success of Zanna Don't that Tim had gone through 30 times as many chef's in the kitchen than I had. I eventually decided to just stop mentally preparing for meeting Tim and take him at face value. This greatly relieved Orlando because he was very very tired of me talking about it. Prior to them arriving, this vivacious Dominican little flight attendant took a shine to Orlando and I, and was trying his hardest to wrangle an invitation back to our hotel room. He was adorable, but I explained now was not the time and that we were expecting friends. He stuck his hand down Orlando's shirt and felt Orlando's furry chest pelt. His eyes rolled back in his head and Orlando looked over at me helplessly. I shot him a non verbal " Now look what you've done!" The Dominican gently slid his hand out of Orlando's shirt and grabbed Orlando's wrist pressing Orlando's palm into the Dominican's crotch. Orlando's eye's widened and he looked over at me and said, " Honey, he likes furry chests." I looked at the Dominican's crotch and said, " I see that. Be that as it may - Now is just not the time-" Orlando interrupted me disengaging himself from the Dominican-"I think your friends are here!"

Meet the Wives

Jimmy smiled and I saw Tim just behind him with his hands in his pocket and taking a breath as if he was about to encounter something unpleasant that required being stoic. As I had noted earlier with Kevin, there were no significant changes due to age in Jimmy's face but perhaps an extra line or two and that was about it. He looked like the Jimmy I had always known for over 20 years. Tim gave me a shy but pleasant hello and we all sat down and I made introductions to Orlando and of course…the Dominican who I tried like the devil to send several cues that NOW WAS THE TIME FOR HIM TO GO. He was clever enough to pick up on my signals. I am not sure -but I believe Tim beat a hasty retreat to the Bar to get drinks for Jim and himself. I got the distinct impression that this was a rare night out for Tim. Jim and I behaved like two sorority girls who hadn't seen each other since the last kegger.
Orlando tried to keep up and we would fill in with bits of information of what we were talking about. Then Tim returned and we all got down to the business of chatting and drinking. Tim was rather amazed about the forward behavior of the Dominican. I shrugged. "Eh It's a Bear thing." Orlando corrected me. " I think it might be a New York thing." -Yes that was true. I remembered the sex-in-the-air-feel at The Eagle the night before. The natural order of conversation took a while but eventually the transition took place. It seemed that Jimmy and I were wearing the "wife" hats and that Tim and Orlando were wearing the "husband" hats. By that I mean Jimmy and I giggled and sniggered and slapped each others thighs while the other two got along quite well but in a far less girlish manner. I also noted Tim had relaxed entirely a third into the evening. I think the second cocktail may have contributed but there was none of that unease that I had been feeling from him before. "James" (I might as well get used to it) and Tim have been together for over 10 years -11 I think. They have been living in a studio apartment the same size that Orlando first moved in with me and I said I couldn't handle it and needed a bigger space after 3 months. That's love folks. Real Love. They looked great together. When were all talking and laughing I felt something I can't explain without it sounding like a complete overly sentimental simpleton-but I will say it any way. I was happy for them. I was particularly happy for my friend ….James. The world was spinning the way it should. Orlando was pleased that I had even more friends that were warm intelligent entertaining folk in my life on the East Coast too.

Lunch with Kevvie, A ride in the Park

2011-10-22T13:11:00.000-07:00

On Monday -as luck would have it, Kevin could meet Orlando and I for lunch at a Thai Restaurant in his neighborhood. It was in Hell's Kitchen. The is the first time I had been in Hell's Kitchen and didn't realize it was actually a nice neighborhood with a lot of cool restaurants. Hearing it's moniker I had always envisioned something desperate and horrid with lots of garbage and huge swarms of rats chewing through it. As we made our way to the Thai Restaurant, I noted several restaurants along the way that I might like to investigate should I ever come back to NYC.


Kevin today

Kevin had not changed a bit to me. Maybe he had a few more character lines around the eyes, but he looked that mature even when he was in his 20s. He had that sort of calmness that many of my friends in their 40s were showing now that we were growing older. There was a certain acceptance that things were the way they were and that there was no changing them. I was glad to see that he hadn't given up on dating and there was date with some hispanic gentlemen later -surprise surprise. The conversation between the three of us was gentle and easy and Orlando was entertained without feeling excluded. I was immensely happy that we had made this connection. We reminisced about our boy-crazy youth. At age 25, It wasn't uncommon for me to fall in love with a new boyfriend every weekend and then change my mind a few days later. I fell prey to the San Francisco Gay Male Relationship trap that there was always someone better just around the corner. Kevin was more loyal then I and hung on a bit longer. He wasn't exactly a stalker when he was a kid, but it was always a running gag that he, himself, would make jokes about. He used to sing little made up love songs about the current man he was in love with or joke about hiding in the bushes watching them from afar. Sometimes I wondered if he was just being funny. I noted to myself as we played "memory lane" that our mutual ability to laugh at ourselves was probably the secret to whatever sense of peace we could find within ourselves. I also observed that despite the struggles that New York had put Kevin through as an actor- now composer, he seemed content. It solidified my belief that I could let go of being on stage and find another way of creative expression to fulfill my soul. He had done it. When he mentioned that he really didn't act or try to audition for anything anymore, the comment seemed casual and not all that big a deal. When Orlando got up to use this rest room Kevin gave me a thumbs up my partner selection. I knew he would like Orlando's " no nonsense" approach to life as much as I did. Kevin surprised me and treated us to lunch. I snapped some pics to commemorate the reunion. There was an exceptionally sexy Latino man standing in the doorway that I pointed out to Kevin. It turns out that Kevin lived above the restaurant we were eating in and that sexy Latino did repair work in his building. Immediately Orlando and I urged him to go break something and then hugged him goodbye.

The Thai lunch should've sufficed but I passed a colorful sign on our way to Central Park that I could not ignore.It was a shop that sold ice cream donut sandwiches. I don't normally indulge in the sweet rich ooey gooey because I am a salty crispy crunchy deep fried kinda guy. The over-the-top dessert realm is Orlando's specialty, but somehow I was inexplicably compelled to learn more. When I suggested to Orlando that we investigate this treat his eyes began to dance wildly in his head. He was A) amazed that I was the one that was suggesting this given the state of our expanding waistlines and B) he was about to get two things together that he absolutely adored-ice cream and donuts! The perky gal behind the counter gave us an enthusiastic tour of the flavors and how the process was done. You could pick THREE ice cream flavors and the choices were all very exciting. I chose this interesting flavor that was called "Hotel" ice cream. I think it was Vanilla with bits of a smashed spiced cookie and chocolate chips and it was totally fabu!!! I also chose a caramel dul leche something-or-other and I think another unusual cookie-n-cream-esqe flavor that I can't recall right now. The donut was dipped in vanilla frosting and sprinkled with coconut. Orlando who is a notorious chocoholic chose three different types of chocolate ice creams and then had his donut dipped in chocolate and sprinkled with almonds. Orlando had NO difficulty consuming his. I, on the other hand, did a valiant effort of consuming two thirds of the massive rich dessert. Orlando considered finishing my portion but then wisely chose not to.

The Horse drawn carriages were all lined up where we had seen them the day before. Orlando went up and found a cute Turkish bear to give us a ride. It was determined that a little 45 min tour around the park would cost a $100-which included tip. I saw the expression on Lando's face as he was doing an inner monologue of once-in-a-lifetime-dream as we crawled our overfed bodies into the carriage. It was clean and shiny but there was this bouquet of fake flowers attached to the side of the carriage that made me grimace. I kept my mouth shot to my benefactor of the ride. I wasn't going to gripe. Before we flew to New York , I had briefly thought about spending ten grand on an engagement ring and presenting it to him on this ride. New York -despite the horrible smells and crowds- felt like a romantic city to me and I wanted us to be engaged. Yet Orlando's belief that the Federal government should pass the RIGHT-TO-MARRY- law in order for it to be right kept me from doing such an economically reckless romantic proposal. I had mixed feelings about the whole thing. In one way I thought he was right, but the girly-girl side of me wanted to flash my engagement ring to everyone to proclaim that I was good enough to be engaged to someone. I was hoping he would come around to wearing engagement rings and should I ever get a windfall of some type, I may just go for it. The Turkish guy took us through Central Park and showed us all the sites.


Cute Turkish Bear Carriage Driver

Ghostbusters Building

Friends Fountain without Friends or water

Many of the sites were pop culture referenced: John Lennon's Strawberry Fields, A building that was in the movie Ghost Busters and the fountain that Joey, Monica, Chandler and Phoebe and the rest of the Friends all flounced around in the beginning of their show credits. The Turkish bear carriage driver shared a little of his life with us. We had learned that he had just married but he was getting a divorce after a few short months, but he thought he would be okay. It didn't seem like a great job driving the carriage around the park. I imagine it would be a little dull over and over again. There was a beauty to the park and a surreal quality that this was not New York. It was where New Yorkers went to get away. I played with my lens on my camera that my friend Bruce had just given to me and snapped a man sitting on a bench. I was pretty far from him but he knew I was taking a picture of him. Again…'marriage' popped in my face as we passed a young androgynous Asian couple in wedding costume trudging to pose for some pictures post wedding. They seemed focused on the task at hand but not particularly joyful. The driver showed us a building Madonna supposedly lives in and none of her neighbors want her there because she is too loud.I frowned .A part of New York I would never see. The New York Madonna frequented. I hated being denied that access. It occurred to me that this was supposed to be romantic and I put the camera down for a second and held Orlando's hand. We were supposed to be making memories here dammit!

Kevvie and Jimmy

2011-10-21T19:21:00.000-07:00

We tried to stretch our Sunday night into the wee hours. I had heard since I was a teen that New York never slept. Apparently that was no longer true here in the big Apple. My legs and feet were beginning to hurt as Orlando and I tried to find more fun in some Chelsea bars but many were closed up and things appeared quiet. What a crock! Well it gave us a good night’s sleep to meet my friends the next day.
Kevin Carter and James Reynolds and I met when we were cast in an original Musical decades ago called “Streets”. It was Rock Musical. Kevin and I played teenaged members of a Graffiti artist Street gang who later become roadies to a member of our Gang because he becomes a big rock star. James ( who will always be Jimmy to me, played the love interest of some poor black girl of the streets. In truth …I forget what role Jimmy played. I recall him singing a pretty song and that’s about it. I think as the musical developed his role got more substantial. Jimmy and I were very close when he lived in San Francisco. I let him pull strands of my hair though a cap and bleach it. We were about as “girlfriend-y” as two gay guys can get. We gave each other manicures and watched Melrose Place.

Kevin on the Right and James in the Middle and Moi down Center and John Gulotto on the Left from STREETS

   Kevin and I bonded another way. Kevin and I shared a proclivity. We were (are?) specifically attracted to men of color. Usually any color- but I preferred mine on the darker side back in the day. He used to tease me on my method of seducing men. I had concocted a kind of ridiculous expression for my face based on Marilyn Monroe and adjusted her breathy baby doll voice by lowering it a few registers. He was always amazed that men found that appealing. Now that I look back on it – so am I. Kevin has an extremely dry sense of humor and wears his heart on his sleeve. I know I know-normally the two don’t mix but his humor is on the absurdist side so it all works for him. He is also a brilliant composer/musician.

   When the three of us first became friends - Jimmy appeared to be the more fortunate of the three of us. (explain) Kevin and I had big…personalities as opposed to Jimmy who was achingly polite and achingly attractive. It wasn’t uncommon to meet Jimmy for a cocktail and at some point, he would excuse himself and either A) be followed into the bathroom by some Dude trying to get his number or B) the Dude would come up to me and ask for his number. How Jimmy managed to stay so gracious through all that is beyond me. If God had blessed me with his Ralph Lauren Model Good Looks, I am sure I would’ve wound up the type of DIVA no one wants to be around. Through the years Jimmy and I have shared A LOT of laughs and A LOT of tears. Trust me, under that gracious soul is a snarky dark little shit who lost his rose colored glassed loooooonnng ago. He never let me get away with anything –particularly a quick visit to New York without saying hello to him. It nearly didn’t happen. If I wasn’t such a big mouth on Facebook then he may have never found out I was there. But he got me!

Priscilla and Stephen

2011-10-19T19:21:00.000-07:00

You want to hear a sad little fact about yours truly? This trip to New York was my first time ever I have seen a big Broadway Hit on Broadway. Yes – at the age of 47, after being on the stage since I was 13, and only living a mere five hour drive from the Big Apple for the first 25 years of my life, I was FINALLY SEEING A BROADWAY SHOW ON BROADWAY.

The Big Broadway show in Question was Priscilla Queen of the Desert. Yes – the latest rage is to take a screenplay and convert it to a Musical. With the resounding success of “ The Producer’s” and the lack of original ideas out there –this seems to be new direction for the American Musical. Now I happen to like Priscilla the movie so I was thinking I would enjoy the musical-and enjoy it I did. Our seats were a tad on the nosebleed side, but they were an excellent view of the entire stage. I had been told that the miraculously fast quick changes from straight men to in drag were achieved through the use of a cleverly devised skin-like masks with rouge and false eyelashes attached, that could be thrown on and just as easily peeled off. In the balcony there was no way Orlando and I could see that to tell you it is true, but the quick changes were extraordinary on a couple of occasions. If you are a hardcore fan of the movie you have to realize that there is already HUGE hit on Broadway that is “Abbalicious” so the music for PQOTD had to be reworked into…take a breath………….Madonna. Well the gal IS a Gay Icon and she has been around for a bit- so you can understand WHY they chose her-but still one does miss the ABBA. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could ever get enough ABBA. My fondest memory was roller skating to dancing queen with my Church youth group to Dancing Queen. Actually that was a fairly terrifying moment being a roller skates and I was grateful that Pammy Hastings broke her wrist so we had to stop – but hey –I liked the music!
And I certainly have no problem with “Madge” (as the Brits call her). As a baby Gay, I was weaned on Madonna. There were just elements that were missed from the movie that we would’ve like to have seen in the musical. I will give one moment away and tell you that you DON’T ever see or hear about a small vial of Madonna’s excrement. Yet other moments impressed- like with the Opera blaring and the wild flowing costume on top of the bus. It was quite cleverly executed. Kudos! Today on Sirius Broadway I had heard that Priscilla had played "canned" string instruments instead of live. Their reasoning was that it was a show about lip synching after all so... Very sad to hear that.

Orlando and I got carried away in the momentous feeling of me seeing my FIRST BROADWAY SHOW (on Broadway), and spent an ungodly amount of money on booze in these little sippy cups. Yes…Sippy cups for a sippy cub. At intermission I was trying to make up for falling asleep on Saturday Night and was reaching out to all my NYC Bears for where the Sunday night Hot Spots was for our tribe via Facebook on my Droid Incredible. I had finally contacted Stephen. Stephen and I made friends years ago, originally on a website called Bear411 and then later we chatted more on Facebook. Maybe “made friends with” is a making light of how I actually feel about Stephen. I fell passionately in love with him to be more truthful. Point of fact when I had begun dating Orlando, I had mentioned that if we ever moved to New York he would have to consider making our relationship polyamorous because I loved Stephen so much and fully planned on making him one of my Brother Husbands. As far as I can see –Bigamy is the ONLY thing the Mormons got right. Orlando’s reaction to this was to nod and continue eating his French Toast and watching Sanctuary.

One only need to look at my dating history to see my fascination with Stephen. He is the prototype of what I find particularly aesthetically pleasing to my eye. He is fairly muscular, fairly broadshouldered and big armed African American Man who has a lovely shiny bald head and beautiful shiny brown eyes with long lashes and his derriere is something that inspires sonnets deep within my soul. I think A LOT about that derriere of his by the way. Ok Ok – so I don’t KNOW him as a “person” that deeply. I mean I know he loves music very much and fashion and bears. He’s just enough masculine to turn me on and just enough Diva not to turn me off. I learned rather recently that he is ALSO in a relationship. He’s got me beat by a mind blowing 11 years longer than mine. I don’t ask him much about his fella and he doesn’t chat that much with me about Orlando. Surprised? I bet you’re not. I suspect that his partner takes my fascination with him about as seriously as Orlando takes it. Perhaps we aren’t real? Maybe Stephen and I are just ” Internet Lovers” But ..what happens when you are partnered and you are GAY (very different from how the Hets handle it ) and you meet your long lusted after virtual Lover in the non-virtual world? There is one other thing I feel I should divulge in this running fountain of TMI and that’s -– my love for Stephen is er...well unrequited. While he doesn’t exactly spurn my attentions he didn’t exactly send me a plane ticket either in all these years of flirting. I had briefly considered buying one at one point to meet him before I met Lando, but I thought that flying to New York for a hook up was even too crazy for me. NOW we had found each other and after the Curtain lowered on Priscilla he texted that “ The Eagle” was THE Sunday Night hang out for Bears and that he would be there and was looking forward to meeting me. Yikes!

The Eagle in New York is nothing like the now defunct Eagle in San Francisco. It is darker and hotter (men and temperature) and more sex-filled. The SF Eagle seemed like a giant sunny Patio bar for Leather Queens but this place had three levels and each one had a different energy all geared for New York Gay Males to get their groove on. I am not sure if it was because I hadn’t been out hunting for a while or that the sexual energy of Gay New Yorkers is more intense then their West Coast counterparts but I remarked to Orlando that the sexual tension in the air was palpable. His response was to take off his shirt. And you thought I was the attention-whore in the relationship? Think again. Orlando had picked up on my anxiety about meeting my “friend”. The “friend card” is how I chose to play it but after all these years the Lando bear knew me and… well…. our relationship being what it was –jealousy wasn’t anything anyone needed to worry about tonight. After a bit of exploration and texting to Stephen I had learned there was a “deck” to the Eagle where there was an outdoor bar. We went up to the roof deck and I peered around for Stephen and BAM- there he was. He shot me a benign smile and it was like I was indeed seeing an old friend. There were no thunderbolts or vibrations thrumming through my heart. It was Stephen.

Stephen and P.A. together at last?

He was with Al. This took me a while to figure out because AL was was one of my Facebook bears too. He was one of those heavy set men that photographed differently everytime and in real life looked a bit differently then he did on the internet. Not bad –just not as recognizable to me. I often hit “like” when Al found stuff to post on his Wall or showed a cool new shirt he bought. Al was a handsy gregarious Bear who appreciated a handsome man and definitely didn’t waste time saying so.

P.A. and Al

Stephen couldn’t stay long, because he had to head to work early the next day, and seemed involved with the men he was keeping company with. Was that the partner of 14 years? No –didn’t think so. Everything was a blur. I wanted to hang with him but then an SF Bear recognized Lando and I and wondered what the hell we were doing in New York. We got engrossed in a conversation with him. Then I got excited because we realized I had nearly spilt my drink on Josh from Project Runway. Orlando looked over and said, “ How do we know that guy?” and I said, “ because you watched Project Runway with me the other night.” I didn’t say “Hey Josh!” ---and high five him. I did apologize for nearly spilling a drink on him and he was very sweet about it. Al got a serious case of Roman Hands and Russian Fingers and was all over Orlando and myself. I thought about saying something about” just because I pose for all those pictures doesn’t mean you can touch the merchandise” but he settled down after a while. Soon it became time for Stephen to leave. I thought maybe we could meet tomorrow when he got out of work? I got a maybe. I was meeting my friend (–real friend –as opposed to internet friend) at Happy Hour at The Gym Bar the following day. We hugged tightly. He smelled good. It was brief but that’s all. My heart didn’t thump wildly out of control at his touch like I thought it might. We said goodbye. Then I looked over at the furry Landobear chatting with AL as he looked back over at me and I went over and slipped in Lando’s arms. I guess I knew where I belonged. Maybe Stephen sensed it too? Who knows? . We chatted about it briefly on Facebook when I returned to the East Bay and I felt apologetic. I still think he is amazingly lovely and I also think he is a good guy. He cracked a joke about how guys meet him and then the “spell is broken”. Even though he didn’t mean it – I played along. I didn’t think that applied in our case. I just think I am under a stronger spell and well…at least we’ll always have Facebook.

Lando's Family Part Deux

2011-10-13T20:28:00.000-07:00

The next day I awoke feeling ashamed. I was in one of the most exciting cities anywhere and I had gone to bed at 8:30PM the night before and slept for 10 hours. Orlando grumbled a bit about it which didn’t alleviate my feelings of guilt and shame. However, deep down I was grateful for two things; First- Our bed was very comfortable and Second I was feeling much much better after 10 hours of sleep. There was no longer a hazy corona around lit lightbulbs and other bright areas, and my feet and legs didn’t ache so damned much.

Our bedroom was small. Outside our room was an ancient kittycat sitting placidly in the hall with interesting markings that gave him the name, “Charlie Chaplin”. He stared up at us to give us an indifferent good morning gaze. Orlando reached down to scratch his head and chin and he began to purr appreciatively. He did look like he had a mustache of sorts and it did have a Chaplinesque look to it. There were three floors to the hotel. The stairway and upper hallway we decorated with Blackglama Ads featuring famous Divas. This must be one of those things that identifies it as a Gay Hotel. I could name all but one. Unfortunately I never learned who she was because the gent manning the front desk didn’t know either. I had never thought to snap a pic of it on my phone to research it. I had fun testing Orlando because his knowledge of actors and actresses from before 1982 is pretty poor. How he ever got his Gay Card I’ll never know. There were two pictures -one with Liza and another with Judy with the familiar Blackglama motto. “ What Becomes a Legend Most?”, side by side so I asked him, “What do these two women have in common?” You’ll be pleased to know that he eventually figured it out -and with very few hints I might add.

On our way over to Elba’s apartment in Spanish Harlem, we did a tourist route. It involved walking through Times Square. I posed ridiculously with my hands up in the air, while Lando snapped a pic and someone walking by was explaining to his two companions that “New York does this to people”. I wondered if he had ever succumbed to a Mary-Tyler-Moore-moment before. We went up 8th avenue because they were having a huge Street Fair. We both bought hats and I found some cute refrigerator magnets shaped like unusual pieces of produce. That wound up being the extent of our tourist shopping in The Big Apple.

As we approached Central Park South I was sooo excited to see the Horse-drawn carriages all lined up on Park Ave. They were so elegant and reminded me of every fairy tale Lifetime movie I had ever seen. The horses were elegant -even when they took a dump or piss! There was like this ..net thing just under their family jewels and it caught it all...except the odor. There was nothing they could do about that! Regardless - I was terribly impressed with how these non-touching- diapers worked. Orlando said he had always wanted to ride one, ever since he had seen them as a little boy. I looked at him wide-eyed and he got it immediately that I had the same longing. “ Well Let’s go check it out, shall we?” Well I can tell you - it aint cheap. You can expect to pay around $100 for 40 minutes of your “fairy tale romantic horse-drawn-carriage ride”. A very carny-like Australian tried to talk us into it right away. I reminded Orlando of the time and we were due at Elba’s in about 35 minutes. We said no - and we were going to make the dream come true tomorrow. Orlando muttered, “ It’s only money.” about 5 times and then relaxed into the idea.

Dinner at Elba’s was almost identical to every family dinner I had growing up. Mariah was watching some Children’s program but she got distracted enough to grab the Ipad and have her Tio Lando and Titi P.A. read to her about cars. “ Omg!” I squeaked in distress, “ She likes Cars!!!” She was barely 2 feet tall - and she was issuing orders that Lando sit to her immediate left and I sit to her right. Along with her father’s help, she had managed to learn my name pretty quickly. I sat her on my knee and looked at her earnestly. “ Now you realize Mariah, that cars aren’t exactly my thing but your Tio Landito over there could probably chat with you about them. I’ll teach you a few beauty tips and maybe how to handle a man.” Luckily her parents didn’t hear a word of that ,but the ever watchful Elba saw us bonding out the corner of her eye. “ You must like children! “ Orlando and I spoke simultaneously and said offhandedly, “ Not really.” It was if someone had cracked a very inappropriate joke and Jess and Martin looked nervously over at their daughter clambering around my lap. I spoke quickly.“ Mariah is clearly special and not like other children and deserves my full attention.” I didn’t intend to sound like one of the elders from Rosemary’s Baby so I confessed that at one point in my life I had been one of the most successful babysitters at Northfield Jr-Sr High. I owe it to all those theater warm up games I learned and how they were excellent for tiring children out. I have to say Mariah is special and for some reason really plucked at my heart strings. I blurted it out before I had given it much thought. “ In fact Jess - if you and Martin ever want to send her to California for a week when she is a little older-” Orlando cut me a look that kind of shut me up. Martin laughed and said, “ Be careful what you wish for PA.”

The Pork was delicious and Elba shared with me the method to get the skin the same crispy texture that Orlando loves so much. Apparently it involved a cup of water but I imagine it also had to do with the cut of meat too. When we ate pork I typically bought very lean cuts which didn’t tend to get that nice crispy skin that he craved so much. She also made the pre-requisite rice and beans which normally I am not a fan of. I found that -however she had seasoned the beans it was very nummy. I decided not to tell Orlando because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Many times I skip eating his recipe because he puts lots of bacon fat in them and it gives me the indigestion from hell. I found Elba’s to be lighter -almost like a well cooked lentil in a mild Indian Dal. I LOVE lentils. I liked Elba’s so much, I had a second portion! Lando DIDN’T miss that . “ Hey!! What’s up with that??? I thought you hated Beans!” I just tried to make my eyes as big and as blue as I possibly could and shrugged.” I dunno...I didn’t want it offend your Aunt.” The blue eyes worked. They always do by the way. “ You like Elba’s cooking don’t you honey?” I nodded enthusiastically and stuffed another mouthful of beans and rice in.

More people arrived. Elba’s son and his family but they didn’t intend to stay to eat. They were just going to pop in and head over to the gym. Orlando and Jess properly guilted them because it had been years since they had seen this particular cousin. Elba scooted over on the couch next to me. I told her the meal was great. She spoke again about Orlando’s Mom, Elsie and she said she had spoken to her on the phone and Elsie had said I was so nice and good to her son. There was almost some relief to her voice. I suspect it had to do with the fact that I was far more age appropriate than Orlando’s last partner but hey that’s just me speculating. I am still the old man in the relationship by a few years. She patted me affectionately on the leg. “ Your family now baby! You got that!?” It almost had an Italian Mobster feel to it but I liked that thought. You give me any shit? My Titi Elba will take your ass OUT! You got me Baby? Hugs and promises were made. I wanted to come back next year.

Now the goal was to head back to the hotel - freshen up and head out for a night to the THEATEH!! Priscilla Queen of the Desert was the Broadway Show of choice. Times Square seemed more like Vegas to me at night. Sardi’s which used to be a fabulous hang out of broadway stars back in the day, now seemed like a vaguely tired tourist stop. The onions in my Gibson were unforgivably soft. There was a large tub of cheddar spread and Ritz crackers that apparently is communally shared during Happy Hour. Yuk! We did strike up a conversation with some legitimate New York Theater goers who were enraptured about this show in which performers did these uncanny interpretations of Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis and I forget who else. They were blown away and assured us that we would love it if we got the chance. I somehow doubted that. Orlando asked them what they thought of “The Book of Mormon” and they gave us this world weary “ Yes - ok entertaining but haven’t we all HEARD this story before??”. I should mention they were clearly heterosexual and somehow that comment raised my hackles a bit, but I felt I might travel into a territory where I had no idea what I was talking about. So I chose not to. I later regretted it when we told one of the women we had tickets to see Priscilla. She all but patted us on the head and encouraged us like grade school children to enjoy our day at Disney. Again the thing with the hackles...

Lando's Family

2011-10-12T18:21:00.000-07:00

I was a tad mesmerized at this whole hybrid business of Fried food and Lingerie. It occurred to me that at this point I could be easily mesmerized by ANYTHING because we were stretching into our 30th hour without sleep. If there is one thing I really need to fully function –it’s my sleep. I also hadn’t sat down in several hours and the shoes began to pinch. I fiddled with my camera trying to adjust to impending twilight. Jessica was standing next to me and we were amiably chatting. She looked almost exactly like her brother to me. She had the same smile and soft warm brown eyes. I looked down at Orlando tickling Mariah’s belly while she shrieked in glee at her Tio. I glanced down at Jessica’s belly. She was a few months pregnant. She shrugged and explained to me that it rained when she was on vacation with her husband and she gestured at her belly. “ This is the result.” I told her that I thought her Mother is probably delighted. She agreed she was. I liked their mother. Their mother’s name is Elsie and Elsie and I had met in Oroville California a little over a year ago. Elsie –who had reportedly had ancient issues with her only son coming out of the closet-surprised everyone by hugging me goodbye and telling me to take care of her son. This story had gotten around because Jessica was staring at me wide-eyed. “ My mother is not a “hugger”. She rarely did that to us growing up. She told me that she was happy that Lando had found you. “ I felt one more latch slide into place in regards to my relationship with Orlando. I didn’t need the blazer and the dress shoes. I had Elsie on my side.

Finally Elba finished up and explained that we didn’t need to go to a restaurant. A family friend was having a big Barbecue and we were all welcome. Boy – these Puerto Ricans do things differently! It would be rare that anyone in my family would be thrilled that a family member showed up to one of their parties with 5 OTHER MOUTHS TO FEED. I asked if I should bring some wine and Elba looked at me as if I had just spoken Martian. No No – it would be fine. She went through the directions to get to this park with Jessica and Martin. We accompanied Elba. Elba is Orlando’s Aunt on his father’s side. Orlando’s father died of a Heart attack at a very young 41. Elba was so grief stricken she nearly threw herself on to Orlando Sr’s coffin as it was lowered into the grave. Elba chatted comfortably about the kid who was the guest of honor at this Barbecue. “ He’s a good kid.” Orlando asked what they were celebrating. Elba said that it had been a full year since he was out, so the family was celebrating. My mind went, “Wow – this is some progressive party. The kid comes out of the closet and they celebrate the anniversary date!!” Orlando actually processed it correctly. “ Out…of Jail?” Yes Elba tells us. “He shouldn’t have done what he did but hey, they shouldn’t have messed with his family in the first place. He got out early of course for good behavior and he’s been doin real good.” My eyes grew wide. I put my hand on Elba’s shoulder to slow her pony-like trot. “ Hang on Elba, “ I had trouble catching my breath. “ So we are going to a picnic, in the park, here in Spanish Harlem to celebrate this guy’s year anniversary of being out of prison?” She nodded and said, “yup! And you get to meet my daughter Liz too! ” I mumbled to Orlando that I didn’t think taking pictures at this “event” would be welcome and perhaps my camera should stay in my back pack.
When we arrived to the park my first thought was , “ Oh this is where all my exboyfriends ended up.”
The thug-quotient was high but there were a lot of old men and kids and women. The food had the feel of a church supper. I suddenly felt my knees wobble with fatigue. I panicked trying to find a place to sit with my plate and Orlando found us all a bench where we gathered away from the crowd. The food was interesting and somewhat tasty. Not many green things but there was Yucca steamed with Onions and there was a little pork left –enough for Orlando and I to have a few bites. He swooned with each bite. That all went to hell when he sampled the Macaroni and cheese which was terrible. Whatever ingredient the cook had used to bind the cheese to the milk and butter didn’t work and it was this gloppy flavorless mess. I had to agree with Lando about the pork though. Those few bites were absolutely packed with rich pork flavor. He refused to take my last bite. That’s love eh?

Elba and Liz

Liz is a Puerto Rican bombshell and a chip off the ole Elba block. “Cuz!!!” Orlando thundered at his cousin. She was in oblivion kissing and greeting and oohing and awing over the spell casting Mariah.
“ Cuz!!!” He bellowed somewhat playfully, “Where the hell were you? What took you so long??” She mouthed something but we didn’t catch it. After saying, “What?” a few times she hissed at him through her teeth, “ Because I was having Seeeexxxxxxkssskss!!!” If there is ever an explanation that Orlando will thoroughly understand – it’s that one. Liz had a huge persona and it was “the Liz show”. I used to have a friend that brayed at me “A.A.P.A.!!!” (All About P.A.) when I got a little too self involved. Something told me that Liz had a friend that did that to her too. She was damned funny and she SHOULD have her own comedy show. Her delivery was spot on! It was later explained to me it is a Puerto Rican female genetic trait. Humor. Who knew? Our visit was brief. Plans to meet Liz the following night perhaps? We all headed over to Elba’s while Elba popped into various markets purchasing food for the gigantic feast Orlando had requested. Apparently the paint had dried and all her furniture had been put back into place. My brains were scrambled eggs and I was slowly losing the feeling in my feet. Having been awake for nearly 36 hours was taking it’s toll and I wasn’t thinking clearly. Case in point: I whipped out my smartphone to look at Facebook on a street corner and Orlando barked at me to put it away. Many young men would like a smart phone like mine he informed me.. I see. Well I then requested that we get Elba back ASAP because I was walking around like The Living Dead and only digesting part of whatever I heard.

More walking until we reach The Projects. Through the hallway where men were just hanging out…looking furtive and dangerous. Jess and Martin and the baby were already in Elba’s apartment. Yup – Lando was right. The blazer and the dress shoes were absolutely a drawback at the moment. Elba plowed onward, unphased by all of this. She chattered comfortably about news of that family member and life around The Projects. She seemed content. Why did I want to pluck her out of this place? Just because I saw scary looking men didn’t mean she did.
Her apartment was nice. It was very comfortable and didn’t really look as if it belonged in this building. Everything seemed new. I sat on the couch and well…that’s all she wrote. I couldn’t keep my eyes open so I nodded off right in front of Jessica and Martin and Mariah. Orlando knew we needed to get back to the Hotel Room. We were coming back tomorrow anyway. We zipped outside –through the lobby with even more scary looking men and caught a cab. As the taxicab sped along the congested brightly lit streets, I mumbled to Orlando that we had to rescue Elba from the projects! “ No honey.” He said placating me. “ She doesn’t want to be rescued. Trust me on this.”

Orlando knows Elba better than I by far

We arrived to our Hotel room. Each room was a tribute to a silver screen star. Ours was the perpetually kissing Tony Curtis. How appropriate. It was Saturday Night in THE BIG APPLE. So we were going to just take a quick disco nap and paint the town red later…except we didn’t awaken until 7AM the next morning. (Sigh)

The Actor turned Writer starts a Travel Blog

2011-10-11T18:36:00.000-07:00

It was doubtful whether it would be a restful vacation but it was very clear that it would be a busy one filled with visiting family. As many people know, seeing your family doesn’t easily create an atmosphere of rest and relaxation. The Landobear and I were headed East to see our families and hopefully spend a little get away time. I wasn’t sure if I could combine the two, but I was going to try. Slowly but surely, I was acquiring the talent for viewing my newfound identity as a couple. I had a new family, and there were more to meet. To Orlando this was old hat. To me…well, I was a bit nervous. The first leg of the trip involved a 3 and a half day stay in New York City. The Second leg of the trip was Vermont to celebrate my Mother’s 80th Birthday. Orlando’s baby sister was traveling up from Delaware with her husband, and her nearly 2 year old daughter to meet us at his Aunt Elba’s in Spanish Harlem. Orlando hadn’t seen Jess in decades, which meant of course he had never met his niece Mariah. Last Christmas we picked out a little red velvet Christmas Dress for her, which she got after Christmas. By the time it got there she had grown a size too big to wear it.

Brother and Sister

The red eye through Delta from SF to JFK was a miserable 5 hour and 45 minutes. I was lucky that I sat next to a young woman who smelled pleasant. We dozed but the seats were cramped, and by the end of the flight both of our ass cheeks felt significantly flattened. There was much tossing and turning as Orlando took his neck pillow and used it as an ass cushion. Orlando was savvy enough to figure out how to get us to our hotel. I had booked us a room at the Chelsea Pines Inn to Orlando’s consternation. He was going to have us stay with Elba, or perhaps his cousin Liz, but I explained that part about this vacation having some relaxing elements to it. I said having a hotel room to get away to would create it. Orlando is an accountant, and he just rolled his eyes and said in a resigned tone, “ Let the money hemorrhage begin! “
Despite my blear of a bad night’s sleep, my excitement to see a city I hadn’t visited for nearly 30 years seemed to give a much needed jolt of energy. Lando deftly navigated the Subway after a brief misunderstanding in which we purchased a $20 Air Bus tickets instead of the $20 Metro tickets. After Orlando got his “New York on”, (yelling and swearing until the issue was solved) we learned that we had to mail in a request for the misallocated travel funds. After learning this the yelling simmered down to a slow burn. We dropped off our bags at the hotel and did a whirlwind tour of Chelsea, and then along the Hudson seeing the view of New Jersey across the Bay.

I was amazed at the amount of people everywhere. It seemed that there it was not so easy to go and find a space where one didn’t see or hear others. It was Saturday so they were all running , shopping at street markets and strolling about in general. New Yorkers seemed to pay particular attention to their Blue Jeans. I found myself walking behind some pretty fancily stitched pockets. Strange dreadful odors would belch from various crevices of the city unexpectedly. I noticed that the Natives dodged the odiferous expulsions with ease, but an innocent tourist’s nostrils would get assaulted frequently. The Subway air temperature runs warm and I could see how the city’s homeless population could stay nice and toasty in the winter with some thoughtful route planning. A question frequently crossed my mind, how did all these buildings stayed atop this spider web of underground tunnels? I would think that the earth could not support them all. There was no engineer to answer my concern.

After Lunch and checking into the Hotel we met Orlando’s family in Spanish Harlem. Apparently his Aunt Elba had just had her apartment painted and could not cook us all dinner. I noticed that this was expected by Orlando – as well as Elba herself. It was understood that she would make the great meal for all of us. When O heard that dinner at her place was no longer an option he told her to find a restaurant that would supply his need for some well-prepared Puerto Rican delicacies. You would think after nearly 4 years with him that my knowledge of Puerto Rican Cuisine would be quite good but it was rudimentary at best. Most of it I learned on one of my favorite travel /food shows with that arrogant but somehow likeable Chef Tony Bourdain. ( It seems to me if you were going to be successful as a Chef that you have to be an asshole. Anthony Bourdain had this down pat- but rumor has it that he had a kid and it has mellowed him out somewhat.)

My fearless Leader Lando

I was catching on and dodged the stenches and the self-important well-dressed New Yorkers a little more gracefully all the while trying to drink in the sites downtown. Orlando impressed me yet again with how quickly we arrived to the right avenue. He pointed out to me how far more logical this transportation system was than the San Francisco one. I figured it wasn’t sinking in as quickly with me because it had a lot numbers. I seemed to respond to Letters better. After seeing what the average New Yorker put up with in its Metro system, I decided to never complain again about a smelly BART Car.
Before I knew it, we were crossing the street to greet Orlando’s Aunt Elba, his baby sister Jessica and her husband Martin and their downright adorable daughter Mariah. ( It figures that his new niece would have the same first name as one of his favorite singers.) When we looked down at her sweet little face we both fell in love instantly. Whatever parental instincts we had inside us surged forth in a most unnatural and vaguely embarrassing manner. Orlando tickled her much to her delight and I engaged her in various serious conversations about pigeons and concrete. You should know I don’t take to children easily. My love for them is conditional. She looked just like a baby Natalie Wood.

How could I resist her?? One of my favorite movies is Miracle on 34th Street with a little Natalie Wood. I wasn’t anywhere near 34th St when I met Mariah but still you can see the significance-right? I was nervous about meeting Elba and Jessica. I had dressed to impress. I changed out my sneakers for a slightly less comfortable dress shoe and I wore a Black Calvin Klein Blazer, an appropriately rich red dress shirt and a pair of jeans. Orlando looked at me after I had changed and said, “Really honey – you don’t have to do that” but I wanted the confidence it would give me. When I hugged both of them it was if we had always known each other. There was no need to impress.

Elba needed to help out Lisa

Orlando approved

Bacalaitos

Elba said she just had a little task to do before we went to dinner. She was helping her former daughter-in-law who ran a lingerie store called “ Too Fierce “. That seemed like an ideal name for a store to be frequented by Drag Queens but I didn’t see a single one. Well maybe I did but ..I can’t be sure whether she was a full on transsexual or not.

Fierce Lady

Lisa, Elba’s former daughter in law, had learned that her customers wanted more than just crotchless panties and glittered high heels. They wanted authentic Puerto Rican Street food to go along with the authentic Puerto Rican block party going on just around the corner. Food –as I may have mentioned-was Elba’s specialty and that’s why we were all convening at “Too Fierce”. Elba had agreed to assist Lisa with some cooking . So right beside the various types of fish net hose and lace up bodices, Elba deftly patted together cooked seasoned ground pork and cheese into a little pasty to be deep fried in front of the store. These were empanadas and they were delicious. Lisa and Elba had quite a little gathering in front of the store. This one particular “ Fierce lady” was a devoted and regular customer. She was also a tad demanding. She was craving something called a Bacalaitos. - a codfish fritter. Unfortunately Lisa didn’t have the ingredients to make them. The Fierce lady was undeterred , so Lisa’s husband ran out for supplies to make them. The product was mixed up in the bathroom in back in one of the sinks and later many Bacalaitos were frying away merrily in the various Gas stoves in front of the Lingerie store . Eventually the Fierce lady got her fish fritter for the bargain rate of a mere dollar. She disappeared for a bit but the crowd was still strong and Elba was in her element. (To Be Continued)

Shaken but not Stirred

2011-07-12T19:41:00.000-07:00

Perhaps people predicted it. In fact many would have said it was inevitable. A Diva Bear of my magnitude was bound to get a little squirrelly, without having hearing some genuine applause just for him. There were only so many times I could crank up Bernadette Peters Entrance at Carnegie Hall on my Ipod and pretend the adulation was for me. The move from the 6^th floor from the third floor here at The Mayfair has prevented me from discovering what can fill the void of my former theater world.

Orlando continues to find a routine that suits him. He has found some racquet ball players at the gym downtown that actually challenge him and is finding more and more opportunities to play. This is leaving me with more and more opportunities to not be joined at the hip with him. I now have an apartment to decorate with a budget applicable to Flea Markets and Target….that’s about it as far as my creative energies go. I did find a small audience of photographers to mug for but more on that later.

I hate to admit this but I was finding living with my lover challenging. This was new to me. It occurred to me, that I had lived alone for at least 15 years and was accustomed to living life the way I wanted to live it. The two years that Orlando and I had been dating was a weekend relationship. Some people thought that was the ideal situation. My co-worker, Kim would ride BART back to San Francisco with me and often tell me what a sweet deal I had going during those two years. Kim is a slim, snappy, bright-eyed fifty -something actor who I have known for nearly two decades. Depending on how much debauchery he has encountered the night before, he can either appear like a charming country Doctor with a wickedly playful gleam in his eye that makes you want to hug your children a little closer to you or the Crypt keeper. He is an avid cigarette smoker and on certain stressful days he smells like he has rolled around in a giant ashtray. His attempts at quitting are hard on us all so we have simply stopped encouraging him. In our younger years Kim and I had similar tastes in men and it led to some awkward moments. The awkward moments basically involved me telling him that I thought a certain boy was cute and then finding out he slept with said certain boy a week or so later. I am not particularly proud of my learning curve on this, seeing as how Kim did it at least three times to me. It must have really irked me because Kim had a long time on and off again affair with an Indian Boy and I “allowed my heart to be open” to the possibilities with this Indian Boy. This upset Kim greatly, (his eyes bulged and his ice cubes shook like crazy in his cocktail) and marked the end of the “sharing” of potential hook ups.

He works part time at the Skilled Nursing Facility with me organizing our fairly substantial volunteer base. We have also worked together in a few theatrical productions throughout the years.

Despite the resolution with the Indian Boy of oh-so-long-ago, I always feel like Charlie Brown with Kim as Lucy holding the football encouraging me to kick it with all my might -and then just at the strategic moment he deftly pulls it away and I go sailing away into the air landing with a resounding “Whump!” on my back. “Trust” and “Kim” just don’t seem like two things that go together when it comes to our odd decades-long friendship.

Several months ago, When I told Kim about Orlando’s impending arrival to Oakland he looked at me doubtfully, and tapped his cigarette packets on his bony knee tamping down the tobacco. “ I dunno P.A.” he drawled in his signature Carol Channing rasp. His voice is truly remarkable, and one of his best tools as an actor. He used to have a lovely honeyed tenor singing voice that years of smoking have made not so honeyed. When he speaks, it often sounds like wet gravel being poured over an old music box and sometimes reminds me of a character from the old West. When I greet him, I always mock him saying his name the way he would say mine by braying “KIM!” as loudly as I could, and then he always greets me back with “PEEYAAY!” with an ear cringing lower toned screech that almost always tops mine. I began to get a little tense as Kim elaborated on why he thought Orlando moving in with me was a bad idea. “I mean think about it, PeeeYay. You’ve got the Best of Both worlds right now. You get to see your boyfriend on the weekends and you get 5 days of the week allllll to yourself. (He leaned in on the alllllll, so I got a good whiff of tobacco). He Cawed on, “ 5 days a week to do whatever you want with your time..” Kim looked at me pointedly with his beady glittering eyes.Yes I got it. While Orlando and I didn’t live together yet we had a “Don’t ask don’t tell” agreement set into place. Living three hours apart and being the horny men we were , it just didn’t seem reasonable to expect monogamy at this point. In fact Orlando and I truly didn’t believe in monogamy having seeing it fail all around us time and again. We both felt that men aren’t wired that way. What I hadn’t given a lot of thought to was when we lived together how we would sort that all out. When I was in nursery school my mother had to be called to pick me up because another little boy rode my tricycle and well…it didn’t go over well. I even found some things she had saved through the years stating from various elementary school teachers that, “Paul seems to have trouble sharing.” I knew something would have to give. My middleaged New England Libido was not going to keep up with his Puerto Rican Libido so I had better learn to let other boys ride my tricycle. Kim’s voice snapped me out of my reverie. “Right now you have the BEST of both worlds!” and he patted my thigh and cackled. It was clear that Kim didn’t think that Orlando moving in was a good idea. Well…not a good idea for him anyway.

Now the rides on BART with KIM are significantly shorter since I live in Oakland, yet we still ride together. I haven’t told him that I really am over the whole acting part of theater because I am sure he wouldn’t believe it. At this particular time, I was still living in a postage stamped sized studio with Lando. He narrowed his beady brown eyes at me. He has an uncanny talent for sniffing out a person’s weaknesses out and he could see that the strain of living in a small studio with Orlando and not having enough “me” time was beginning to show around my eyes. “ I tell ya PA, I couldn’t do it.” He cackled , “ I don’t have what it takes.” I had visions of him cocktailing and crowing to those that we mutually knew, “There’s trouble in Bear Paradise!!!” I didn’t want this to get out of hand. I did whatever damage control I could. “It’s not awful Kim. I just need to get used to being cleaner and organized, and learn to…go with the flow more.”

He looked thoughtful for a second. It was if the alligator had flipped over and showed his vulnerable tender belly and I saw my chance. I wasn’t sure, it seemed, somewhere in those Absolut Vodka soaked eyes he was envisoning or remembering a moment where he may have lived with a lover. Then he spat out, “I don’t flow well with others.” He bit off each word. …I thought out carefully what I was going to say next and then spoke. “You see, the real challenge for me in all of this is to be as generous and as giving to him as he is to me. I mean he is so thoughtful to me and I just hate to think that I might be an imposition to him in any way because he really goes out of his way to make my life easier. He makes breakfast for me, rubs my feet, tells me he loves me at just the right times when I need to hear it and it’s great to have someone there to cuddle with every night on the couch. I just sometimes don’t think that I can measure up to his thoughtfulness.” The irony here is that you are thinking I made that up to keep Kim from blabbing to everyone that PA is not as happy as his Facebook posts make him out to be? Every word of what I told Kim is true. I worry every day that I don’t measure up..then again I worry every day period. (Thanks Mom)

That apparently worked because Kim picked up the Newspaper and snapped it open so sharply that it sounded like a rifle crack-even above the din of the BART train, and began to read it, completely ignoring me , after murmuring a dismissive, “Well that’s nice”

Well I did eventually find something to do. I had done a trade with Photographer Bill McClaren (profile to follow). He did a shoot with me if I agreed to be one of his models for his Fine Art Photography Workshops. However, I agreed to do the workshop and well…that was going to cut into our Pride Parade celebration a bit. It fell on a Gay Pride Sunday. That turned out to be not such a bad thing. You would think that a city full of queens would have fabulously creative floats to rival the Rose Bowl but no…it’s a surprisingly boring parade. Hey LOOK everyone – It’s all the Gay and Lesbian PG&E workers… whoopee. The pictures contained in the blog are from that workshop. I work with the photographers and it is kinda fun. They get to learn how to work with Models.They think I am pretty keen and say how expressive I am etc etc etc. It's not exactly like applause...but it'll do.

You got the Bear- Now what?

2011-06-16T19:30:00.000-07:00

Me and Gal Pal Drew in "Bad Dream"

POW !

Orlando is a little concerned. Not only has he entered the Funhouse of P.A., it truly hit him last night as we were going to bed that I have indeed given up acting. I think what really frightens him is that I may end up focusing fully on him. “But you love it so..” he said in his sweet little boo boo voice which makes me want to squeeze his head and kiss his face.

“Loved dear..as in past tense. I’ll always enjoy watching it and perhaps talking about it, but the whole process of being in a play or almost any show just depresses and overwhelms me. It’s no fun anymore. I over think everything. I am saying my lines in my head before I speak them. My hands shake so badly I can barely hold a prop. I can’t relax and enjoy the audience anymore because I am too worried and focusing on their reactions. Don’t worry. I’m not going to miss it.”

We crawled into bed and he growled and bit my ear and then pulled me into him closer. “I dunno Honey. It just seems like it’s a central part of your being-of who you are.” I was worried for a second he was going to bring up Jeffrey as a possible irrational reason for this choice, Jeffrey who you may recall- had died of cancer a few years ago was an integral part of my San Francisco theater world and cronies. He died an ex-friend-much to my chagrin. This lack of resolution made me distance myself from nearly everything and everyone related to him. There was once a powerful drive to do it physically when I was considering leaving my job and moving up to Redding CA to live with Orlando. After some clear thinking, two realizations came to surface; FIRST I should want to move because I want to live with Orlando -and no other reason and SECOND -Redding California is hotter than the hinges of hell 8 months of the year. Eventually -the mutual theater cronies that Jeffrey and I had that mattered to me, (all three) began to wander back into my life. It was if they knew and we never had to talk about it. Still my desire to go back to the stage never felt the same.

I flipped over from our spoon position and touched noses with Orlando in the dark. “It’s Okay” I whispered. Then I realized I was whispering and spoke full voice. “ I am not going to miss working 40 hours a week and rehearsing 35 and feeling exhausted all the time-and barely getting paid for any of it. I am not going to miss egomaniacal Director’s who would rather exercise their mind control then their ability to direct a play. I am not going to miss being told I am too Gay to play certain characters. I am not going to miss playing truly queeney characters. I won’t miss working in drafty poorly heated theaters that smell weird. I won’t miss working with dysfunctional costars with a myriad of personality disorders. I won’t miss sucking up to people who are vapid and unkind to help the theater I am performing in to get the things it needs because it doesn’t have any money. I won’t miss never having a weekend free-think about that one honey-. It’s stupid. It’s not like it’s Broadway and I am Channing saying I am through and I’m never doing another Dolly! I am P.A. Cooley. A guy that a handful of Gay Senior Citizens in San Francisco might - I say MIGHT... remember. I am not famous.

“alrighty then” He attempted to drift off. I grabbed his shoulder.

Party ON Garth

“BUT...there’s always film...I mean. It’s a medium I can control. Editing - no audience -no surprise elements The technology is changing all the time making easier and easier for the average Joe to make films. If I can just start filming those exchanges I want to start doing with Drew and I ya know- chatting and work on editing them and you can help too.!!! You are getting really good with my cameras...so...

“Yes ..yeah - of course...( he yawned ) I mean -I was just thinking. Maybe you could find something to do yourself?”

“Myself?” I asked

“Yeah ..well I mean. I got my racquet ball going on now at the gym and since you are not doing theater ,maybe you could form a group or something? “

A group? A group of guys videoing each other...? “

Oh C’mon! You know what I mean! (To Be Continued)

The Ones that got away -Thank God!

2011-06-12T12:33:00.000-07:00

I sank back gratefully into the couch cushions feeling like I had been racing around Disneyland for a solid month. Orlando and I had been living together for only about 3 weeks now. Currently he was off investigating a new gym to play racquet ball in. I sipped on my cocktail. It had been days…weeks even since I had just come home after work and made myself a drink and plopped on the couch and flipped on Tivo… alone. Orlando’s shiny impressive flat screen massive TV now stood where my very Old very large clunky one had once sat. We didn’t have the energy to deal with selling my TV, so we just lugged it to the technology recycling pile in the garage of our building.

I listened to the early evening sounds of our building around me, and the very faint hiss and whistle of the radiator. Despite the fact that we had unpacked every box, the apartment still had a cluttered appearance. The bits of paper around my desk were dropping to the floor. His various back packs –ok he only had 2 –plus his lap top bag, were strewn around his “place”. He seemed to gravitate toward the Club chair. I liked looking over at him just after dinner, watching him struggle to stay awake when we watched TV. Eventually our evening cocktail and the dinner won out and his head would sink back into the soft club chair for a cat nap of 20 minutes or more –eyes closed –mouth wide open and I found it endearing. Especially when his head snapped back up and he asked, “What’d I miss?”

Add caption

I got fetal on the couch with my cocktail and balefully glared at an unruly shelf in desperate need of clearing. Then a new thought fibrillated through my body and I sat up in surprise …”Hey..I live with someone now” There was no doubt I was living with the right one but, I suddenly felt like a race that I had been running for ever had finally finished. It was good feeling. Relief and not confusion settled over me. A relationship –like raising children, is one of those learn-as- you- go- sort –of- things. There are plenty of books and classes and helpful friends and relatives but you don’t get it until you are actually in the thick of it. I have learned much in the past few weeks. I have learned much in the past several years. It’s not that I am a late bloomer…I had been studying how to do this for a very long time and now it was time to practice what I had “learnt”

Before I had met Orlando my relationships were not exactly wise choices-at least not on the inside but on the outside they seemed like very good choices. Allow me to explain. One man worked for a non-profit and his job was to glad hand big wigs into giving this particular non-profit money. He is attractive in a congenial good guy way that almost gives off a cherubic innocence. He’s the kind of guy that could watch a football game or a Science Fiction Movie. He was very good at his job. He was so good in fact that the San Francisco Examiner took note of it and pointed him out as one of the up and coming stars to keep an eye on. (It helped him that his non-profit was enormously appealing too, because it gave enterprising kids a chance to succeed in forming their own businesses.) He was age appropriate (38) and dammit…he looked good on my arm-and vice versa.

As my Jewish Friend asked, “It didn’t take?” No –it didn’t take. At that point in my life I kinda told my boss of 7 years (at the time a Mortgage Broker) to go take long walk of a short pier. Thinking that a bright impressionable lad like myself could reinvent myself, I figured getting a new job would be a piece of Princess Cake. I didn’t realize the economy would choose that particular time to tank. The San Francisco Examiner’s Pick of the Litter couldn’t handle the strain of being my personal bread winner and was fearful that at any given moment I would ask the fateful question, “ Honey? How do you feel about me moving in?” Since I was empathic and I loathed people sensing any weakness with in me. I cut bait and sailed Gay-ly forward. I have to admit -he was a good guy and the sexual attraction was still there, but he couldn’t handle vulnerable P.A. Strong P.A. on the other hand was another matter altogether….

My 24 hour rebound was ( all this unknown to me at the time) a high school senior named Bam Bam. When Mr. SF Examiner and I were breaking up at the Mix quietly in the corner, my phone rang and it was Bam Bam asking when we were meeting that night. I admit it. Look. Don’t judge. The writing was on the wall. I knew the relationship was doomed and earlier that day I had been trolling the internet for …attention. I held the phone looking directly at my soon-to-be-ex and said, “20 minutes.” My ex was shocked that I took a booty call during our break up but I was hurt that he felt he couldn’t handle the WHOLE P.A. Cooley and I needed comfort and Bam Bam looked… very comfortable to me. –and indeed he was. After my evening of comfort with the Bam, his phone rang the next morning. It was his Mom, making sure he wasn’t late for wrestling practice…she even asked where he was so she could pick him up and take him there. I strongly urged him to um…meet her on the corner somewhere. I tried very hard to resist the Bam’s charms for future assignations and succeeded…sometimes.

My attraction to big brown eyes and baldheads and dark skin never faded …(Orlando may be Puerto Rican but take a good look.) and after Mr. Examiner I met The Nurse. Well one would think that a Nurse would make an excellent life partner right? WRONG! Be wary of a nurse. A Guy or Gal who spends their days being humiliated daily by ego maniacal Doctors, after doing very difficult thankless work that requires intestinal fortitude is either very crazy or a living Saint. I know. I work with them everyday. Let me tell you. The Saints are very few and far between. This one lived in LA. His big loving moment with me was when he drove up to see me on 4 hours of sleep after I had a horrible dental procedure that left me swollen and doped up on my couch. I awoke on my couch to find him asleep on the rug beside me holding my hand. It endeared him to me so I fell down the rabbit hole of love yet again.

I waited tables on weekends part time, so he always drove up to see me. He was 23 at the time. He made twice what I made at my two jobs, but when I bought him an inexpensive pair of sneakers he got on the phone and crowed to his friends how his man got him some new “treads” Did I mention he looked liked a thug? I liked the Ying and Yang that he looked like he might kill you, but he spent the day being compassionate to frail sickly people…(or so I thought). In the end, I lent him several hundred dollars feeling guilty about him having to pay for all that gas for his Mercedes. This turned out to be a poorly thought out move. Upon lending him the money he dumped me immediately and told me “I was no better than a woman”. I never saw the money again. In retrospect I found it more irritating that he found calling me a woman insulting than the actual act of being dumped. I recall going through the motions of being heart broken and well…not being all that into it. I was furious about losing my money. It got a little worse as he left some maniacal rants on my voicemail indicating he was truly unhinged. He said he had a mysterious genetic disease for which there was no cure and he would be dead in 2 years. Well it’s been 4 years. He looks healthy and he’s moved to San Francisco now. He looks very cerebral and introspective in wire rimmed glasses and khakis and expensive sweaters. When I see him out and about, we glance at each other making note of each other’s presence but that’s about it. He tries to friend me on facebook. I hit ignore. I’d rather hang with Mr. SFExaminer than the Nurse any day if I were to hang with an ex.

Then I met the Lando man. It was all supposed to be a weekend hook up and well ….that hook up has been going on since 2009. (An Author smiles smugly to himself, sips drink, and stops writing to watch Chelsea Handler. Author is enormously pleased with how things all worked out)