Left Behind

I have been back in therapy of late.  I go when my schedule allows, and by the generosity of the therapist.

We have been focusing more on my PTSD than anything else, as she thinks that may alleviate the depression and Darkness.  Yes, PTSD.  As a former volunteer paramedic from a Rescue Squad, I suffer from it.  Some things cannot be unseen.  Some things cannot be forgotten.  Some wounds never heal.

The only pic I know of with me in full gear.  Dec 1986

In addition to memories from those days, we've been discussing events from my childhood.  I hate even thinking about that time.  One event in particular has come to mind recently, but I haven't spoken of it to my therapist... yet.

This is an old story, and has to do with family.  I try not to write about family any more, but this one is something I want to explore.  And after all, that's what this blog is about.

This happened in the winter/early spring.  I don't remember exactly when it happened, but I know from what I was wearing it had to be when I was in fifth or sixth grade- probably sixth.  That would place this story around 1978.

This was the height of the CB craze, and my dad had one in the truck. That point is important.

A little background: ever since before I was born, my family had been traveling to Oak Orchard Delaware, where my grandfather had a house.  He built the house himself I'm told, and all my relatives would come down on different weekends.

My grandfather's house.  Year unknown.  It was torn down in the 80s I think.

Somewhere between 1976 and 1977 my dad managed to put together some financing, and bought a house down there.   It was on the water, the Indian River Bay, and it was a dump.  It was a sheer disaster, but my dad, being very handy, knew that he could fix it.

But fixing it meant taking time, and with my dad's work schedule, it wouldn't be easy.  Usually about once a month, my dad would come home from work at midnight (after an 8 or 16 hour shift); and my brother and I would be packed into the back of his pickup truck with our dog Sabre for the long trip to Delaware- approximately 3 hours.

The truck had a cap on it, and my dad had built a table and two benches in the back for my brother and I to sit on. The benches were made of solid oak, and were very uncomfortable, but it beat sitting on the hot, vibrating truck bed, where the dog had to stay.  As can be imagined, it didn't smell too good back there with a panting, sweating dog.

My older brother and I would try to sleep on the way, if possible.  Remember, this is a vibrating 1970s era pickup truck.

Back then, Route 1 connecting the north side of the state to the south side of the state may have been someone's dream, but it was far from a reality.  To get from the north to south in Delaware, one had to use Route 13, which went directly down the center of the state, and was filled with stoplights.  That road joined with what was then rte. 1 just south of Dover AFB.  It was a long trudge from north to south, and it seemed to take an eternity.

Modern Google map.  Red arrows point at Rte 13.  Smyrna is at the bottom.

This story takes place just north of the town of Smyrna, which is north of Dover-the capital.  My Dad pulled over to as he usually put it, "check to see the tires are Square." I also got out of the truck, because I had to go to the bathroom too.  I told my older brother (OB) that I was getting out.  He said "ok," indicating he knew I got out. So I went to the side of the road out of sight from the highway, dropped my pants, and was taking care of my business when suddenly I heard the truck door close, and the truck took off without me.

I remember running down the road with my pants down at my ankles. It was a cold night, but not severely, so I was wearing blue jeans and a denim jacket (popular at the time.)  I remember it because I really liked that jacket and the Mighty Mouse patch on the back.  I ran for a little bit, crying and shouting "Stop! Stop! Wait!" and I watched as the tail lights disappeared in the dark.

The truck, 1970s.  That green building is long gone.  So's the boat.  And the truck

After I got over the initial shock of being left at the side of the road, I remember feeling strangely calm.  I had to think of something.  I needed a ride.

It was around 1:30 in the morning.  Most of the traffic were big trucks.  I tried to flag one down.  I remember one had so many lights- it seemed like a Christmas tree.

Eventually someone pulled over- a pink Cadillac driven by an elderly African American man.  I explained what happened, and where I was going.  He said he was also going to Oak Orchard.  i didn't believe him, but it was nice of him to offer to take me.  So off we went at high speed.  He thought we might catch up with the truck or find a police officer- one or the other.

I don't remember how far we drove- but I think we made it to Dover.  We saw a state police officer in a 7-11, and pulled over.  The driver explained what happened, and that he was speeding to catch up to the truck.  The officer asked me a couple of questions, and sat me in the front seat of his car.  he took me to the police barracks, where I waited.

I never learned that Good Samaritan's name.

Me in 6th grade.  This is how I looked around the time this happened.

Now, the part I wasn't around to see.

Apparently, the CB radio came alive with reports of a "kid on the road."  One trucker said he almost hit me, which was true.  People were wondering what I was doing out there, etc.  Then the reports went quiet (I guess I'd been picked up by then.)

My mum tells me that OB started banging on the window separating the back from the cab, yelling that I wasn't back there.  Apparently he claimed that he woke up and I wasn't there.  However, he was awake when I got out of the truck!  I KNOW that!  So what took him so long?  I reached my own conclusion long ago.

In any case, my parents travelled "twenty minutes later" or "almost at Oak Orchard" when they turned around.  (The account varied.)  According to Google maps, measuring from the north tip of Smyrna to Oak Orchard is 65.6 miles- an hour and a quarter (using the route we took back then.)  I'm sure that time seemed to be distorted- it was for me.

In any case, they turned around and headed north, and my dad started asking about me on the CB.  Someone told him that I'd been picked up and taken to the State Police barracks (I don't know who) and they went there.

I remember seeing my dad talking to a police officer and entering the place where I was waiting.  I remember being scared- I was afraid I'd be severely punished.  I'm sure mum came in as well, but I don't remember her being there.  I remember my dad shaking hands with the police officer as we left.
I climbed into the back of the truck, and we were off.  I fell asleep, I think.  I think we made it to the house at around 5 am, but I'm not sure.

Not long after that, on a later trip, I saw the pink Cadillac parked down the road about a mile or so from my parents' house.  Turns out the guy DID live in Oak Orchard.  

For years after, whenever we passed "the spot" my parents or I would mention it.  "There's the spot!"  I don't think I could locate it now, thirty years on.

I got a job at Burger King in 1982, which marked the end of my going to Delaware for quite some time.  I stayed home so I could work.  During that time, I was crossdressing (I think I started that in 1979.)  As I've mentioned before, I stopped that in August of 1983.

In the 1990s, route 1 was built along the length of Delaware.  What once took a very long time now has been cut by almost half.  During the 80s and 90s, my dad worked tirelessly on essentially rebuilding the house.  The interior is now quite beautiful.  They retired down there in summer of 1995, and live there to this day.  My dad is still working on the house, constantly tweaking it.  It's his hobby.

At my parent's house, Thanksgiving 2015.

My parents and I disagree as to OB's part in this.  That's all I'll say about that.

So.  I was 11 years old when this happened.  How did it affect me?  Was there any long lasting damage?  I'm not sure.  You'd think I'd have an abandonment issue or something, but I don't.  When I think back on it, I feel angry.

I wasn't angry then- no- I was calm.  I kept my head.  But now, thinking about it makes me angry.

Riding in the back of the truck was common for kids on long trips back then.  In fact, many things that would "shock" people of later generations were very common, such as being beaten with a belt.  Now it's abuse- then it just was what it was.  On many trips, I'd gotten out of the truck to answer the call of nature- no big deal.  But once... once I was left on the side of the road.

This was NOT my parents' fault.  They didn't know I was out of the truck.  I guess I should've said something, but I never had in the past, and there was never a problem.

So, from where does the anger come?  Is it misplaced?    Why does it still haunt me?

I have some thoughts on this, but I'll bounce them off my therapist.

Some wounds never heal.


Be well.

Old Note Analyzed

Looking through old "Notes", I found something I posted the following on my "drab" facialbook page on October 15, 2013.  At the time, I was still in a psychological tailspin from all that had happened:

• MIL discovering I'm Trans
• Wife saying she would not move to a new place with me
• Being thrown out of the house
• Lisa Empanada's suicide

I realized my life as I knew it was over.  I was spinning swiftly toward suicide.  I will comment in the text in [BLUE Italics].  Aside from the comments (and spacing for clarity) this is unedited.

Picture from September 2013.  Makeup by Amanda Richards

*******************************************************************

Change is very scary.

So scary that an entire political party fanatically opposed to it. This past month my life changed a hell of a lot. Pretty much everything changed. Wow. I mean really, wow.

Right now, I’m in a holding pattern. I hold two part time jobs. In one I am working without a contract, so technically it could end at any time (but my truly boss [Huh? Typo?] has assuring me that this is not going to happen soon.) In my other, well let’s just say that certain powers that be don’t feel as loyal towards me as I do to the company for which I’ve worked for nearly 10 years [Very true.  management at that time did their best to make me feel unwelcome, and it wouldn't be the last time that the particular job in question screwed me over] Probably said too much there but there it is.

In any case, I work somewhere between 60-70 hour weeks and I don’t make enough to live on my own. I put out 10 resumes a day. I place calls. Nothing. [That hasn't changed] Time to change careers and ignore the Masters degree I spent so much time and money earning? Go back to bartending and waiting tables? Going on welfare isn’t an option. I earn my keep, thanks for asking. Save that money for those who truly need it.  [My friends have been VERY generous to me in the occasions when I have needed it.  I don't deserve you.]

I’m currently living with a friend as she is a very generous soul. I have no idea where my marriage is going, or what the future holds vis a vis my daughter. I have no idea where I will be a year from now; physically, emotionally, financially, employment-wise… no idea.  [A year later, I was living with Linda and Zoey in an apartment in Norristown.  I had gone Full time as a woman as well.]

It IS a bit liberating in one way: when your life has been torn down to almost nothing, you can rebuild it almost any way you’d like. The possibilities are almost endless, like a blank piece of paper. [Qualifier to that statement- one needs money to start over fresh.  Which I didn't/don't have.]  My only restriction is that I want my daughter in my life, so I’m tied to the Philly area. Where there are no jobs in my field. Well, none I can get apparently.

Things will change more. A lot more. [Hinting toward transition or death] Why? Well, because the world changes. And because I must adapt and change with it. The person I am now is not the same person I was a year ago. I am radically different from the person I was five years ago. [One year prior, I wasn't on HRT.  Five years prior I was still in denial about my Truth.] I like to think I still hold true to my standards and morals, but I HAVE compromised on some things. I am no longer the ranting kid who attended anti-Reagan rallies in college. Oh I’m still passionate about many things, especially politics, but I’d like to think I can see past it to the person behind opposing opinions. Also I no longer drink like I have a death wish. [I did have a death wish.] I literally couldn’t continue with that and be a responsible father.

So, I will change more. In some ways the changes will be radical, but in most, they will not be. I guess my midlife crisis has been thrust upon me in some ways, but in others I am just being true to the person I was born to be. [A woman]  I have not yet reached my potential. I’ve been afraid of it- shunned it- avoided it. Now that all has burned around me, it’s time to stop being afraid.

A few weeks ago, one of my best friends committed suicide. (My wife is still my best friend, despite all that has happened.) [Lisa, obviously.  But I hadn't spoken about her to any of my cisgender friends.  Many of them asked me about her, and how I knew her, etc.]  I am still not over it, especially as it came hot on the heels of my ejection from where I lived. But it DID cause me to consider who and what I am. And why.  [Once again, a Woman]

She left behind a loving family. More friends than I ever had. A career. I understand the why of it, having battled that Darkness myself.

I also understand that I need to Change, and that only I can do this. I am responsible for my life, no one else. Those who come along for the ride are very much appreciated. I know some will not. That’s ok too.  [Once again, transition or death]  I need positivity for the path I need to walk. So there you have it. My mind in full. May God have mercy on my soul and that of those I love, as this will NOT be easy

*****************************************************************

August 2017

And it hasn't been.

I hadn't read that post in years- since I wrote it really.  Late August/September is coming, which includes the anniversaries of all these events.  I absolutely dread the coming of this time of year, as it drags up all of the old memories and thoughts.  And it includes my birthday.

With those memories and thoughts come the Darkness.

People have said to me very recently about "how brave you are" and "you are so strong."  No, I'm not.  I am scared, lonely, and fragile.

I see so many other transpeople who transition and live effortlessly.  Is it due to better planning?  Are they just smarter/stronger/better than me?

It's late at night now.  I'm crying and feeling sorry for myself.  I'm going to bed.

Tomorrow.


Be well.

Not There

A lot has happened in this past week or so.  I haven't commented yet, because I had still really haven't digested all of it.

Last Thursday, I drove down to Washington DC, and then, on Friday, I drove down to Richmond, as it was one of my dearest friend Ally's birthday.

On my way south, I stopped in Baltimore; at the place where my dearest sister Lisa died.  I left her a rose, and wished her a happy belated birthday.  I miss her so much!

On Thursday, I met with another dear friend, Kimberly Moore. I spent a lot of the day traveling, but then I spent some hours in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, after which she and I walked over to the National Archives.  I'd never been there before.  We walked around there for a bit- seeing some interesting documents and displays.  Eventually ended up in the Rotunda, which is where the Declaration of Independence and Constitution are on display.

I'll come back to this.

With Kimberly Moore

Later that night, we went to Freddie's, which is in Crystal City. I heard so much about this place, and I wanted to see it.  We had dinner there, and Kim had a few drinks (I have not had a drink for more than seven weeks.) I did sing karaoke a few times, and if you are glutton for punishment I have a link HERE to a YouTube video.

The following morning, I drove down to Richmond.  The traffic was merciful, and I was there before noon.  Ally, myself, and Ally's friend, Lacey, all went to get our nails done.  That night, we went to Barcode which is one of Richmond's premier gay bars.  I love going there because even though I only go there once a year, the people remember me.  It's like bumping into old friends who I never really had.  They are good people.

Lacy, Ally, me: Friday night

On Saturday, there was a large protests happening in Charlottesville.  Of course, we all knew that- the news have been reporting for weeks that the Nazis, the Klan and all the scum of the right-wing were going to descend upon the beautiful city of Charlottesville.  They said they were going to protest the removal of a statue of Robert E Lee, but let's face it- that's not why they were going.  They were going armed to the teeth, and they wanted to cause trouble.  And why shouldn't they?  After all they have members in the White House staff and whatnot.

Some Americans said "No not in my city" and Americans came from all over to stand in the way of Hate.  They said (in so many words) "you have gone far enough- not in my city, not in my country!"  They stood United against the face of right-wing, Trump-voting tyranny.

Charlottesville was a mere 90 minutes west of where I was, but I was in Virginia for my dear friend Ally.  I planned this for weeks.  I'd looked forward to it!

Saturday, we had all been invited to a pool party by a friend of Ally's whom I never met.  I think the party was going to start at noon, and I stood in Ally's living room watching CNN.  I was in my bathing suit and wearing a swim dress over it watching the horror unfold.  Watching as people fought on TV.  People with who brought Shields; who brought guns; wearing helmets; and they were throwing soda cans filled with concrete.  And against them, Brave Americans getting hurt, and, in defending themselves, hurting the Nazis.  I was surprised that there were no reports of gunfire, but I also more surprised that I saw no the real police presence- at least not on the TV.  I learned later that the police had pulled back because the Nazis had them severely outgunned.

I stood there and I thought "I should be there. I should be THERE.  The rubber has hit the road- the fight against Trump's hate has begun, and I should be there.  My voice should join with theirs.  These people are shedding their blood for me, and for the rest of America and, I'm sitting here in a swimsuit."  I couldn't shake that thought, but I had committed to be there for Ally: one of my dearest friends, and I was going to be there for her.  (I had a wonderful time with Ally, and treasure every moment with her.)

And then the news came across about the car- the Dodge Challenger which crashed intentionally through a group of protesters, killing one and injuring so many others in an intentional attack.

Pic:  NBC news

The perpetrator: a 20 year old man from Ohio with a Hitler haircut (he'd idealized the Nazis ever since he was in school.)  He was eventually caught- I guess it's not hard to track down a license plate especially when it's been on TV.  He was caught; the National Guard came in; and a state of emergency was declared- but it was too late: a woman was dead.  Heather Heyer, who was there exercising Her First Amendment rights to protest- dead.

Rest in Power, Heather Heyer

Killed by Nazis on American soil.

At that point I almost told Ally I had to go that I had to be there, but something help me back.  I had committed to be with her, and what could I do at this point?  A state of emergency had been declared.  The roads were closed.  I couldn't get there.  The moment had passed.  Yes, there would still be violence, and Nazis would still make threats.  They threatened the vigil for the dead woman- the woman that they had butchered.

And the president?

He couldn't even bring himself to condemn the Nazis, the Klan- the filth that had arrived.  No, he blamed both sides, as if both sides had killed.  The Nazis and the Klan took this as tacit approval, which indeed it was.  They took it as carte blanche permission from the highest office in the land to continue their hate.

Americans of all political Persuasions, except of course right-wing, instantly condemned Trump's words.  They were horrified- they were horrified by the images on the TV, by the casualties.  Horrified by the images of Nazis and Klan without their hoods marching unstopped and possibly Unstoppable, but for those Americans who stood in front of them, and said "NO! No more!" Then the President of the United States saying "this is fine- it's not your fault."

The next day of course Trump said, that 'oh yeah, Nazis are bad, the Klan is bad, yeah, we condemn them' but the damage has been done.  (Charles Krauthammer called it "Trump's hostage tape" on Fox news!)  So many people started distancing themselves from the president.  Our allies looked on in complete shock and horror.

I, on the other hand, like many people, knew exactly who Trump was even before the campaign began.  He just showed his true colors again.  Yet there are still Republicans who support him.  There were still people who call themselves Americans who stood up to be counted with the Nazi party.  And so it was things continued for a few days- arguments back and forth.

And then Tuesday: the Meltdown. Trump went "off script" and "spoke from his heart" and what was there was nothing short of horrifying.  He may as well just put on a hood and said "I'm one of them and they can do what they want."  Of course, he accused the Left because the "Party of Personal responsibility" always accuses the Left.  It's always the Liberal's fault.  It doesn't matter who does what- the Republicans could be caught red-handed, and still blame the Left.  And a lot of people would believe them.  Here the Right wing committed Murder, and yet Trump still said 'no, it's the left's fault- they were good people marching with those Nazis.'   Never mind the fact that good people wouldn't be marching with the Nazis by definition.

I have been some days since then.  I figured that this could all happen- knowing Trump- knowing the Right- having thought these things of the right-wing for years: that their true alignment was not to America but only to the party.  GOP Uber Alles

I'd hoped and prayed I was wrong, but I wasn't, and I feel sick to my soul.

Now what?

Trump is Untouchable.  The Republicans will do nothing against him.  He is free to do what he wishes, because he knows he is Unstoppable and Untouchable due to gerrymandering and voter suppression.  He knows that he won't lose the House and the Senate.

It has come down to this: there are few Shades of Grey left.  There are the Americans on the side of what is Good, and then there's the Nazis: the right wing- the face of complete Evil.  It is now time to stand up and be counted.  Are you an American or are you a Nazi?  It's pretty simple- if you support Trump, then you are standing up to be counted with the Nazis, with the Klan, and with Hate.

The gray areas have been covered by Shadow.

Brave American blood is in the streets.  One died, and it's only the beginning.

And I?

I was not there, and I feel horrible.  Perhaps I could have helped.  I was not there.

This time.

Last Friday there was a rally for Equality in my home town of Phoenixville.  Hundreds came to show their support for Equality and Decency.  I was given the opportunity to speak, and so I did.  I improvised a few words on the spot.

Speaking in Reeves Park, Phoenixville

After I spoke, I headed off (I hadn't eaten all day) and was given high fives and hugs as I passed through the crowd.

All is NOT lost, but the fight will not be easy.


When I was in the National Archives, I saw the real Declaration of Independence for the first time.  I was struck by its size- I never realized it was so big!  I could barely read it, as it was so bleached by light over the years.  They now keep it in a room with dim light and other safeguards.

I could barely make out the words.  However, I managed to see the ones I needed to see:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

The Declaration- and the Constitution- are faded with time.  In some ways, that matches the country.  Hate is on the rise, aided by Trump's GOP.  However, the Truth is there, if one looks hard for it:  we are ALL created equal.

And as long as there are Good people who believe in those words, the United States will not perish.


Be well.

Inspirations: Ally Raymond

This is another in my occasional series on my "inspirations."

I met Ally on August 3, 2013.  I count that as one of the best days of my life, for several reasons.  It was the day of my dearest friend Lisa Empanada's Affirmation Party in Maryland.  I'd already been on the road for hours, first to Bethlehem PA (1 hour to get there 1 hour while there)to see Amanda Richards for a makeover, to Harrisburg (1.5 hours) to pick up David Denton, then to the motel in Maryland where we were all staying (1.5 hours.)

When I arrived, Lisa was in the lobby of the motel.  She was radiant in her white dress.  She introduced me to a couple who had also just arrived:  Jay and Ally.  Jay is a handsome man whose bearing commanded respect (I found out later that he was a Marine D.I.) and Ally.  Ally is a gorgeous, tall woman with an infectious smile and a laugh that reaches the heavens. I assumed that she was a Genetic girl (GG) and that Jay was the person Lisa knew.  We greeted each other.

Later, I met her again at the party.  We spoke a bit.  I determined that wherever she went, she would light up the room.  She was a walking party.  One of the pictures taken at the gathering has been my "wall" picture on Facialbook for years, and she is there, smiling.

Wall picture:  Me, Lisa, Ally

It was only later in the evening that I asked how Lisa how she knew Jay.  She laughed and said "I know him through Ally!  Isn't she amazing?"  That's when it dawned on me, as Lisa and I watched Ally hold court across the lawn- Ally is trans like us!  I looked at Lisa with a dumb look on my face, and Lisa just laughed.

The next day, after I was back in drab mode, I saw her loading luggage into their BMW.  I crossed the parking lot and, using my best "ignorant" voice, asked her if she was "one a them there transtesticles."  She turned and glared at me, then softened.  She saw David in the background laughing, and figured out who I was.  She then laughed and we talked for a bit.

The next time I saw her was at Lisa's funeral in September.  We didn't really talk.

Since then, we've become very close.  I try to visit her in Richmond for her birthday every year.  And seeing her at a conference is really one of the main reasons I attend.

So who is she?

Ally: Keystone 2017.  This picture captures her essence

Ally is a proud transwoman with strange roots.  She hails from Connecticut, one of eight children.

 In Ally's own words:

"My brother and I were proselytized into a very evangelical religion, very strict in rules and regulations…but full of life and spirit!  We made many friends in that selective sect, but it was the ‘family’ that I desperately craved for...  I loved ‘god’, and fell in love with the whole idea of a ‘family of god’, one eternal, loving presence…enveloping us all.  As my musical talents began to blossom, I quickly became the church pianist and organist.  I enjoyed working with the song leader, pastor, throughout our services, which would last for hours!  Everything from tongue talking, dancing in the spirit, prayer for healing, all night prayer meetings, foot washing’s, baptisms, and weekly door-to-door outreach.  It was a full, exhausting life…but with a feeling of reward.  It gave me a feeling of belonging that I had never experienced prior to that, but there is always a hitch to these illusions…you must remain and believe all the stories, revelations, and ramblings of a ‘man’ that is supposedly hearing from god.  A good thing I thought, but it was as a thief stealing you blind while the years passed you by." 

She attended Bible College in Mississippi, as a music major.

My quiet times were filled with the thoughts of times earlier in my life when I would sneak into my mother’s room and into her clothes, dressing as pretty as I could, sliding into heels and letting my emotions fly!  Those times were so real, so fulfilling, but oh so wrong, as I would be shamed beyond embarrassment.  My times then as an adult, would find me on off days, shopping in the stores to buy once again, those feminine garments that let my feminine mind go free.  I felt so beautiful, but had to hide it all.

She first embraced her "gay" side, breaking up her marriage.  Her church threw her out with extreme prejudice, and her wife and children refused to speak to her.  She spent 18 years out and proud before finally surrendering to the fact that she was actually Trans.  It was during that time (those 18 years) that she met Jay.

Jay is a true Southern gentleman.  He is thoughtful, articulate, impeccable manners, and a kind smile.

Ally's forceful ejection and subsequent feminization by her church led Ally to re-evaluate her entire life.  She is now a strident atheist.  I do not discuss religion with Ally, nor do I judge her beliefs.  That said, I get the giggles every time a fundamentalist tries to argue religion with her.  Her knowledge of the Bible is encyclopedic, and the fundie is often beaten badly in the logic and scripture debate.

She sings with the voice of an Angel, and it's always a treat to hear her sing at karaoke.

One of the reasons Ally is so special is that she is so unapologetically Ally.  She is who she is, and if anyone doesn't like it, she doesn't give a damn.  She went full time living her truth in 2012, and is absolutely at Peace with who and what she is.

Ally- last night at Barcode

And that is why she inspires me.  Her confidence, her poise, her contentment... She is the Woman I wish I could be.

Ally is a force of Nature, and I can't imagine life without her.

An Old Story about Drinking in Baltimore

This is another of my Old stories.

This one takes place in the summer of 1995.  I was working for Games Workshop at the time.  We were located in a small building on Benson Avenue in Baltimore, and we were quite the tight-knit group.  Sort of.  Maybe.  In any case, we drank together a lot.  At the time, the sales manager was a person who I'll call Mike.  Mike was a tall, broad guy- rather athletic, but a little past his Prime, and very arrogant.  I can't say anyone really liked him.

At the time, we are having problems with our mail order division, so they sent somebody over from the UK.  I'll call him Gordon. Gordon was a proud Scotsman.  In fact, he was one of the finest Scotsmen I ever met.  To welcome Gordon, and the person who accompanied him- I'll call him Chris.  We had a small reception so to speak, which means that most of us on the sales team, Gordon and Chris, and, yes, even Mike, went to the Baltimore Brewing Company.

The Baltimore Brewing Company was located downtown, and was a rather large Beer Hall.  On the day we were supposed to do this, there was a little trash talking going on between Gordon and one of my fellow salespeople, I'll call him Fred.  Fred was and still is an interesting person.  He and his wife were essentially Gomez and Morticia- think of them as 90s version.  Fred had a goatee and long hair that he kept in a ponytail, and he was talking all kinds of trash.

A Halloween picture from the 90s: "Fred" and me (as a cereal killer)

Yes, he was saying about how Americans could outdrink Scots any day the week, and, of course, the rest of the Americans were egging him on a bit.  Now Chris, having come over from the UK, well he was high up in the corporate hierarchy.  He was known as "the Chaplain."

The Chaplain was in charge of keeping the holy writ, so to speak.  He had the power to fire anyone in the company save the chairman of the board, and had done so several times.  Chris was also one of the best trenchermen I've ever met.  That man could Drink, and his reputation preceded him.  He watched as everyone brag about their drinking prowess with amusement.  He knew Gordon better than any of us.

That night we all got a table at the Baltimore Brewing Company.  We had some dinner, and then the contest began. The challenge was that Fred and Gordon were to drink the exact same things, and whoever drank more would be the winner.

So it went.  I took kept pace as well, just because I wanted to see how I measured up.  Sitting across from each other, Fred and Gordon kept it fun and light as they drank and drank and drank.  (I was seated to Fred's left.)  Eventually they began to get a little drunk.  Meanwhile, sitting across from me was Chris.  Chris was watching silently with amusement, and I noticed that he was drinking what they BOTH drank.  In other words, he was drinking twice as much as either of them.  At first I tried to keep up with him, but even I could not, and back then I was able to drink a LOT.

Behind me, a band started to set up: a three-piece jazz band.  They wouldn't start playing for a little while yet, but we knew it was going to be a little loud. Gordon had to go to the bathroom, so off he went, followed quickly by Fred.  Fred wanted to make sure that Gordon wasn't vomiting. Gordon was wearing biker boots as well as Fred (they were in style back then.) The story is that Fred went into the men's room and was standing at one of the urinals.  He saw a pair of biker boots in the stall next to him.  Thinking it was Gordon, he stomped on that foot as hard as he could, and heard a very loud Shout.  But it wasn't Gordon- it was a biker and he was pissed! Mike talked the biker out of violence somehow.  You see, Gordon had gone outside for a smoke!

While they were gone, Mike ordered two shots of vodka in addition to Gordon and Fred's replacement beers.  He poured the shots of vodka into their drinks and stirred a little bit.  He was upping the ante a bit.  No one was to tell those two what was going on.

Yes this was a jerk move, and, to my shame, one that I repeated some years later in California.

In any case, Fred came back first and related his story.  We could see the very angry biker across the room, and we sent him a couple of drinks that seemed to assuage his pain.  Fred did not drink until Gordon returned, and then they drank.  At this time, Chris said "wait a minute- you guys are going to slow you should chug this one!" and so they did:  chugging their entire beer with vodka included.  Now these were craft beers made by the Baltimore Brewing Company, not weak stuff, and this is when they started to exhibit real signs of drunkenness.


Eventually, they had to go to the bathroom again.  Unfortunately, at this point neither of them had any motor skills left.  Gordon stood up, fell over.  He was helped his feet by Chris, and then went to the bathroom. Fred on the other hand stood up, staggered, and fell backwards into the instruments setup by the Jazz Band, completely destroying the drum set.  As you can imagine, this made a LOT of noise!

At this point, it was deemed prudent to make our escape.  We paid the bill, and were told that we were banned from the Baltimore Brewing Company.  One of my co-workers named "Tim" took Fred home, and another co-worker, who was new to the company named Lonnie, took Gordon back to his motel room.  Lonnie was staying in the same motel until he found an apartment.

There are two different stories here now- I cannot vouch for the accuracy of either.  Well not really.

Apparently, on the way home Fred told Tim that he had to throw up.  Tim tried to pull over, but Fred then vomited all over the inside of Tim's new car.  This was not the first time someone had vomited in one of his cars- indeed it was said that you are not a member of the Games Workshop sales team unless they vomited in Tim's car.  (I guess I was never a member of the sales team, because I never did- not in his car anyway.)

So when Tim managed to drop Fred back at Fred's house.  Fred opened the door, stumbled into the entranceway, and fell flat at the feet of his new bride.  He looked up at her, smiled, and said "Honey, I won!"

Lonnie and Gordon went back to the motel.  Across the parking lot there was a restaurant called Pargos, and Gordon insisted that they go there.  So they did.  That night, they were having a strawberry daiquiri special.  Lonnie and Gordon had several each, so in the end Gordon really won.  Eventually, they went back to their respective motel rooms.

The next day, my Wife came down to Baltimore.  This is before she moved down.  The two of us were going to take Lonnie and Gordon to Washington DC for the day, as neither had ever been there.  (Lonnie was from California.)  So Lonnie was hungover but conscious, and we went to collect Gordon.  This is before cell phones where popular.  We knocked on his door; knocked and knocked and heard nothing.  We kept knocking and knocking.  Lonnie went back to his room, and called.  At that point, Gordon woke up.  He let Wife and I into his room, and went to shower.  The entire room was COATED with pink- even the ceiling. Gordon had apparently projectile vomited strawberry daiquiri everywhere.  He showered, drank some Gatorade, and he was ready to go.  So the four of us: myself, Wife, Gordon, and Lonnie, enjoyed a wonderful day in Washington DC.

Apparently Fred was sick for the rest of the weekend.

Tired GW staff at Games Day 1995

Here's a bit of a coda.

Some years later, after our convention called "Games Day," the big boss "Rick" wanted to take us all out to party- to celebrate another successful event.  We went to the Baltimore Brewing Company.  All of us were in our yellow Games Workshop staff shirts.  We were told we couldn't come in.  Rick spoke to the manager, and said in no uncertain terms that he had over 100 people with him, was going to pay cash, that we were going to drink and eat like crazy, and if they didn't want that money, we would go elsewhere.

We were welcomed with open arms.

Eventually, a large food fight started, and Games Workshop was again banned from the Baltimore Brewing Company.

The restaurant closed in 2005.

Speaking copy of Speech for Rally

Speech given at Media PA rally for Trans rights today.

***************************************************

I’d like to begin by paraphrasing one of those immigrants we’re told we should hate.

“THESE are the times that try Trans souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives everything its value.”

Thomas Paine, an immigrant from Scotland, was absolutely right.  We began to think we were making PROGRESS.  We had a person in the White House who saw Transgender people as fellow human beings.  The Attorney General said “We see you; we stand with you; and we will do everything we can to protect you going forward.”  We had HOPE.

That has all changed.  The Trump administration has done everything in its power to dehumanize us.  They’re allowing states to discriminate against us.  There are states where people like me cannot use public restrooms because they say we are “predators” and “perverts.”  Never mind the fact that no transgender person has ever been arrested for predatory behavior in a restroom, yet that several Republican lawmakers have!

The United States Government has become the biggest bully of transpeople.  To them- to the entire Republican party- we are not human.  Discrimination was written into the 2016 GOP platform, page 35, by their rejection of Trans rights via Title IX.  They approved it.

President Trump used transpeople as a political smokescreen. As of yesterday, it’s POLICY.  We are not human to him.  And his followers are happy to do his dirty work- violence against transpeople is INCREASING.  On July 21, a former Navy sailor was convicted for the murder of a transwoman.  He stabbed her 119 times and slashed her throat three times.  Why?  Because she was trans. The other day, the 16th transperson in America was murdered because she was transgender.  This just days after a comedian told the hosts of “The Breakfast Club” morning show that he would “kill” a woman if he found out she was transgender after having sex with her.

KILL.  MURDER.

Speaking

The President of the United States said that “Our military must be focused on decisive and overwhelming victory and cannot be burdened with the tremendous medical costs and disruption that transgender in the military would entail."  How long will it be until the administration says that BUSINESSES cannot be burdened?    Or housing a transgender person in an apartment?

Can’t happen?  Won’t happen?  It CAN happen, and it WILL happen, unless transpeople, and those Americans who still believe in HUMAN rights, stand against it.  Trump will never listen.  Nor will Pence, who is blinded by hate.  Nor will anyone else in the pocket of the Family Research Council, long identified by the Southern Poverty Law center as an anti-LGBT HATE group.  But, many will- and these are the people we must speak to.

Pennsylvania Republican Senator Toomey has voted with the FRC 91% of the time.  This is from the FRC’s own website.  Think he’ll listen?  Not likely.  He doesn’t believe in Human rights?  VOTE HIM OUT.

Representative Meehan?  78%  FRC average over the past two years.  Think he cares about transpeople?  Doubt it.  He doesn’t believe in Human rights? VOTE HIM OUT.

Since his election to congress, my representative, Ryan Costello, voted with the FRC 67% of the time.  Two Thirds.  Representative Costello- why?  “Religious freedom” is a code word for Discrimination, just as “alternative fact” is code for “lie.”   Representative Costello, I challenge you to look me in the eye, face to face, American to American, and tell me why.  Do you actually know any transpeople, sir?  Have you listened to our stories from our own mouths and hearts?  Do you care?

I know personally FOUR transgender women who served bravely in Special Forces: one SEAL, two Green Berets, and one Marine Recon.  All have been in combat- in harm’s way.  And now, they are in harm’s way again.  I see all these people with bumper stickers saying “SUPPORT OUR TROOPS.”  Are they lies?  Our Transgender Soldiers need our support- YOUR support- NOW!

This nation is at a turning point.  Do we stand for freedom, or do we stand for Hate?  Do ALL Americans have the right to Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness?  Or is it just straight, cisgender people?  This is NOT a choice- I was born Trans.  Am I to be denied my basic human rights because of it?

I am Human.  I am American. I am Transgender. And I am PROUD to be these things.

Thank you.

(See part of the speech here)

Interviewed by news HERE

Draft of Speech for Trans Rights

A few readers have asked why I've been silent on the recent anti-Trans actions by 45.  I've been watching- listening.  Wondering how we've come to this point.

That said, I have been asked to speak at Trans Rights Are Human Rights: Rally for Transgender Equality in Media, PA on Saturday.  

The following is the first draft of my speech for that day.  Subject to change.  Heck I've revised it four times since starting this post!

Gratuitous Sophie Selfie

**********************************************************************

I’d like to begin by paraphrasing one of those immigrants we’re told we should hate.

“These are the times that try Trans souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives everything its value.”

Thomas Paine, an immigrant from Scotland, was absolutely right.  

We began to think we were making progress.  We had a human being in the White House who saw Transgender people as fellow human beings.  The Attorney General said “we see you; we stand with you; and we will do everything we can to protect you going forward.”  We had Hope.

That has all changed.  The new administration has done everything in its power to dehumanize us.  They’re allowing states to discriminate against us.  There are states where people like me cannot use public restrooms because they say we are “predators” and “perverts.”  Never mind the fact that no transgender person has ever been arrested for predatory behavior in a restroom, and that several republican lawmakers have!

The US Government has become the biggest bully to transpeople.  To them- to the entire Republican party- we are not human.  Discrimination was written into the 2016 GOP platform, page 35, by their rejection of trans rights via Title IX.  They approved it. 

45 used transpeople as a political smokescreen- to distract from his collusion with Russia.  We are not human to him.  And his followers are happy to do his dirty work- violence against transpeople is increasing.  On July 21, a former Navy sailor was convicted for the murder of a transwoman.  He stabbed her 119 times and slashed her throat three times.  Why?  Because she was trans.  The other day the 16^th transperson this year in America was murdered because she was transgender.  This just days after a comedian told the hosts of “The Breakfast Club” morning show that he would “kill” a woman if he found out she was transgender after having sex with her.

Kill.  Murder.

45 said that “Our military must be focused on decisive and overwhelming victory and cannot be burdened with the tremendous medical costs and disruption that transgender in the military would entail."  How long will it be until the administration says that BUSINESS cannot be burdened with the tremendous medical costs and disruption that a transgender holding a job would entail?    Or housing a transgender person in an apartment? 

Can’t happen?  Won’t happen?  

It CAN happen, and it WILL happen, unless transpeople, and those Americans who still believe in equal rights, stand against it.  45 will never listen.  Not will Pence, who is blinded by hate.  Nor will anyone else in the pocket of the Family Research Council, a Southern Poverty Law center anti-LGBT Hate group.  But, many will- and these are the people we must speak to. 

Pennsylvania Republican Senator Toomey has voted with the FRC 91% of the time.  This isfrom the FRC’s own website.  Think he’ll listen?  Not likely. 

Representative Meehan?  78% average over the past two years.  Think he cares about transpeople?  Doubt it.

Since his election to congress, my representative, Ryan Costello, voted with the FRC 67% of the time.  Two Thirds.  Representative Costello- why?  “Religious freedom” is a code word for Discrimination, just as “alternative fact” is code for “lie.”   Representative Costello, I challenge you to look me in the eye, face to face, American to American, and tell me why.  Do you actually know any transpeople, sir?  Have you listened to our stories from our own mouths and hearts? 

This nation is at a turning point.  Do we stand for freedom, or do we stand for hate?  Do ALL Americans have the right to Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness?  Or is it just straight, cisgender people?  This is NOT a choice- I was born trans.  Am I to be denied my rights because of it?

I am Human.  I am American. I am Transgender.  And I am PROUD to be these things.

Thank you.