Donald J. Trump is a man his supporters would avoid like gay pride parades if he were saying the things he says while unshaven and pushing all his worldly possessions in a shopping cart. But he wears bespoke suits and lives and works in buildings with his name on them. So instead of being called … Continue reading Up from the grave to denounce a naked emperor
The house is so quiet. No one needs to go outside before we go to bed. There are no clacking feet in the middle of the night, the prelude to a trip down the stairs and outside into the dark. No one needs to go outside first thing in the morning. And no … Continue reading A bottle of wine and a cat: Surviving the first dogless days
I’m writing this with a view. Tuki is lying with her head on my outstretched leg. In two hours, she will be gone and I will be bereft. I’ve never had to put a dog down before. In between writing, I put my hand on her head and stroke the space from just above her … Continue reading Goodbye, Tuki, and thank you for 15 amazing years.
“I just think of all the older gays and lesbians that worked so long and hard for this day, especially the the ones that passed away without getting to see it happen.” Mark Kavouksorian It was during the winter of my freshman year of college that my mother bought a house on Ridge Road. She … Continue reading Before Obergefell v. Hodges, there was Della and Dorothy: a tribute to ‘The Jones Girls’
Things are a little hectic here in Flyover Country at the moment, so I am going to post a photo of my dog inspecting the bouquet of birthday flowers my sister and her family sent Mom, who turned 87 this week. Mom is not the only senior citizen in our family. Tuki, the aforementioned dog, … Continue reading Tuki: My heart on four legs
Four Februarys ago, I attended two funerals in the same week. It was the first time that had happened. A month later I was in New York hanging out with my niece and nephew. My sister had decided to fly down from Edmonton during their spring break, and New York is always a great place … Continue reading Ruth Goldbas & Ernie Banks, who died old, and Baki, who died young
I used to write poetry. It’s been a long time, but lately, I’ve had an urge to start again. So it was interesting timing that my Christmas present from Sweetheart’s father and his wife was a volume of Seamus Heaney’s poetry. There are massive holes in my literary education. Heaney was one of them, but thanks … Continue reading Kelly Cherry, poetry and Mr. Perfect from the Neck Down