I believe that if there is a god then no one is rejected by that god. I don’t believe that the acceptance of any creed or profession of any particular faith is required by this god. I believe that if there is a heaven or an afterlife of some kind, then it is for everyone, no matter what they’ve done or what they believed or say they believed. I don’t want to belong to some small club of people who set themselves apart and huddle together in a little alcove where they tell one another they are the special ones, or the chosen ones, or the enlightened ones. If there is a spiritual dimension to life, then I like to think that the entire universe is my clubhouse and that everyone and everything are my fellow travelers in this spiritual realm.

Hope

Not long ago I ran across a picture of a couple of gay boys at the mall. (I think I may have posted the picture on my blog.) They were in their late teens, but they looked like they were still young enough to be living at home--maybe 16 or 17. They were in the middle of a store, and one was down on bended knee offering a promise ring to the other. The boy offering the ring was promising to be faithful while they are together. They were both very happy, and they apparently weren’t worried about what the other people in the store would think. They didn’t seem to be worried that someone from school would see them. They didn’t seem to be worried that one of their parents’ friends might be in the store and tell their parents that their son has a boyfriend. It was so sweet. And these were obviously gay boys, too. Not jocks or football players. They were the type of gay boys that in the past had to play it very cool and keep their heads down or they could have become the targets of intense bullying. But the boys in the picture didn’t seem to be concerned with that.

Judging by their clothes, their shopping bags, and the store they were in, I would say that they come from affluent families. Their parents are probably well-educated professionals. And they probably live in an upper middle class suburb of a liberal metro area. Obviously not all kids have it so lucky. But it’s a start. A scene like that would have been unthinkable when I was a teenager. Maybe one day even country boys in West Virginia will be able to give their boyfriends promise rings in the school cafeteria. As well as look forward to living openly with a man they love, bringing him home for Christmas dinner, raising kids with him, growing old with him, and all the while being treated like valued members of the community.


The End Of Christianity?

The other day the Pope admonished the people of France that marriage equality would threaten family and society. This is a man who lives in a palace, expects to be treated like an emperor and runs his church like it’s still the 15^th century. He tells the people of Africa that it’s a sin for them to use condoms as AIDS sweeps over the continent like wildfire. And he tells the nuns of America to stop helping the poor so much and start screaming about homosexuality, birth control and abortion. Meanwhile Liberty University, the school founded by the supposedly family values loving Rev. Jerry Falwell, wants to give Donald Trump an honorary degree. Last spring Anne Graham Lotz--daughter of “America’s pastor” Billy Graham--told the people of North Carolina in effect that her god would smite them if they didn’t vote for that state’s hate on the gays constitutional amendment. And every day a huge parade of nuts and loons take to the airwaves and internet with their tortured combovers and garish costumes to preach vile, hateful insanity in the name of Jesus…and they all have their hands out. “Gi’ me! Gi’ me! Gi’ me!” Those who have not been suckered in by their message look on at all of this and see a giant freak show. It’s like a scary, evil circus and the so-called leaders come off as carnival hucksters and conmen. There is no message of love, compassion or hope. It’s all about fear, and greed, and the desire for political power.

I know that these people do not represent all Christians. I know that many Christians are turned off by the freak show. And some do their best to stand up against the message of hate and offer something different. But it seems most just don’t care enough to shout down the shouters. When are we going to see these money sucking whores and fear-driven haters denounced in no uncertain terms by the multitudes who see Christianity in a different light? Are they even out there? Many in Europe have already given up on Christianity, and a large percentage of America’s youth have turned their backs on Christianity, too. I think it will eventually be the same all over the world. Religions die. Religions have been dying since the beginning of civilization. And it seems to me that Christianity is on its deathbed, and a whole bunch of people who claim to represent it have shoved a pillow over its face to hasten the end.

Albert, The Overlook's Boiler Boy

Albert was in charge of tending to the boiler at the Overlood Hotel back in the ‘30s, and one night a United States Senator had his way with Albert in one of the guest rooms. He also promised Albert that he would take him back to Washington, set him up in an apartment and send him to law school. Albert had a good time even though the Senator wasn’t exactly the young man’s type. Most of the men Albert had been with up until that point were farmhands and cowboys his own age. He had never made it with one of the swells who stayed at the Overlook before, but the Senator really charmed him, and he convinced Albert that all of his dreams were about to come true.

The next day when Albert saw that the Senator was checking out of the hotel without so much as saying goodbye to him, he confronted the Senator. He was so upset that he accidentally implied right in the lobby of the Overlook, with a number of guests looking on, that he and the Senator were lovers. The Senator’s expression turned to stone and he accused Albert of lying and trying to extort money from him. He told the manager that he should fire Albert at once.

The manager herded the furious young man into his office and demanded an explanation. Albert insisted that the Senator promised to pay to further his education and improve his prospects. The manager informed Albert that the Senator could destroy the Overlook’s reputation and that he would have to let him go. He went on to say that if anyone asked about Albert, he would be forced to say that he was a blackmailer, or a homosexual prostitute or possibly both.

Albert hanged himself in room 237 moments later. 237 was the room where the Senator used Albert and tricked him into believing that he was special, that he was loved and that someone was finally going to look after him.

Model and photographer unknown.
Fictional short story by Gary Cottle.


Shamed for liking boys.

I knew I was gay when I was 11, and when I was about 12, I invited a boy who lived near me to spend the night. When we were in my room getting ready for bed, I did a little striptease for the boy. I wanted him to like me, and I wanted that kind of attention from him. My father must have heard our giggles and thought that something was up, so he came into my room without knocking, and he caught me standing there in front of the boy completely naked. I’ll never forget the look on his face. He was shocked, disgusted and disappointed. Without saying a word, he shut the door. I was so humiliated. I never felt so ashamed or so worthless.

If that’s all there was to it, it would have been enough to haunt me until the end of my days. But later that night, my father told my sister what had happened. My sister is three years older than me, and at 15, her sibling rivalry was still in high gear. She teased me relentlessly, and she did so regularly for several years.

My sexual feelings at that age were tender and delicate. I had no one to talk to about them. I couldn’t even engage in the rude, explicit talk with other boys because I liked boys. I felt so vulnerable and alone. I didn’t feel like I could trust anybody enough to tell them what I was thinking about boys, least of all my family. And when my father caught a quick glimpse of the private feelings I had been working so hard to hide from him, he confirmed my worst nightmare. And then let my sister in on it so she could mercilessly bully me.

It was like the two of them together were ripping into me like wild animals. And my self-esteem was so low, I couldn’t even find the will to be angry with them. For years, all the way up until I was in my late thirties, just recalling that incident would cause me to blush so much it felt like my face and whole body were on fire.

I was given the impression that my sexual desires were funny, and strange and embarrassing, and that there was something wrong with me, and that I was different, and that not only would no one ever return those feelings but that if anyone ever found out, they would mock me and ridicule me, exclude me, abuse me, and reject me.

Single

I’m 46--almost 47--and I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’ve never even been on a proper date. I have, however, been in love, but I elected not to tell the young man I was in love with. I didn’t even tell him I was gay. And eventually he moved away and married a girl. At this point, I’m not sure I would want to have a relationship. I’m very much a loner, and I’m very independent. But I think I would have loved to have had a boyfriend when I was younger, and if I had, that may have changed the direction of my life.

The way I see it no one owes me a relationship. The fact that I wasn’t able to date when I was younger is in part, probably a large part, because of the homophobic culture in which I lived. However, I did meet some young men that I liked. Some of them were gay or bi. Some of them I’m not sure about, including the one I fell in love with. But I was very cautious, and I also thought of myself as unlovable, so I never pursued any of these guys. I never consciously let them know I was interested in them romantically.

I’m a very difficult person to get close to. I recognize that. I recognize the fact that I have played a part in the way my life has turned out. I also recognize that luck has a hand in the way things have turned out, too. What if I had went to work at KFC at sixteen rather than McDonald’s? What if I had went to the University of North Carolina rather than WVU? I may have met someone. I may have had my boyfriend. And if so, I might still be with him. Who knows?

I just don’t buy the idea that gay or bi men are generally self-centered, self-serving, untrustworthy scum because none of them have beat a path to my door to give me their hand in marriage and offered me just the kind of life and relationship I want. If they all pass me by, that is their right, and it’s not like I’ve put out the welcome sign.

You will be missed.

Most everyone would adjust and carry on with their lives. That’s what we do. We can’t stop living just because we lose someone close to us. People lose husbands and wives. They lose boyfriends and girlfriends, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters and dearest friends. But we go on working, and sleeping, and showering, eating, sipping tea, chatting, telling jokes, following the news, watching movies, reading books and planning vacations. And we don’t feel guilty about it because we know that if we were the one who was lost, we’d want those left behind to go on living. But that isn’t to say that we don’t miss the ones who are lost. We miss them, and one day you will be missed. You will be missed a lot in the beginning, and then now and then for years to come. Finally some elderly person who knew you back in the day will think of you and tears will well up in her eyes, and her grandchild will ask what is wrong, and she’ll tell the kid that she was just thinking of someone she knew a long time ago and then she’ll offer to drive the kid to the movies, or the park or the mall.