Men of the Skull Interlude: Thrown Out

 This is the newest Interlude chapter for my book Men of the Skull.  It's based upon a blog entry, but includes other details.  

The interludes go between the semesters in the book and track my trans journey.  This one is placed between Summer and Fall 1988.  

The book chapter won't have photos in it, but they're here anyway.  Because.

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Interlude IX: Thrown Out

Wednesday, August 28, 2013  Obama Weighs ‘Limited’ Strikes Against Syrian Forces

That night I was informed by my wife that her mother wanted me out of the house, and that on that Friday she would be changing the alarm codes. I was given two days to pack up and get out.

Of course, there was no way in hell I could pack everything in that time, even though many books were already packed.  I posted about this on social media, received many helpful comments, and also received offers of help with the move. A few people came with their pickup trucks to help.  As did another friend: Jessica.

I'd known Jessica for twenty years. She was dating someone in my old D&D group, and we clicked.  We remained friends through the years and Wife and I attended her wedding.  She volunteered to help.

I thought for a bit.  How could MIL really turn the knife if she wanted?  Easy answer- announce to everyone I was a crossdresser while moving!  And of everyone involved in the move, Jessica was the only one who didn't know. She’d seen me dressed as a woman at parties four times over the years.  Perhaps she even suspected something.

So that Thursday night, I invited her to Rock Bottom, a bar we both liked.  And I told her my Truth.  Gave her a business card with my Sophie picture on it. She looked at me and said "So what?  I always thought you were one of the girls."

So now all that were helping knew about me.  That took away MIL's trump card.

That Friday, I worked at the book store. I also sent Wife a text.  You see, I thought when I was exiled, I would be gone from her and my daughter's life, and I wanted one last night of "normal" life with them before leaving. One of the things that Wife and I spoke about on our first date all those years ago was our mutual love of Star Wars.  She is as much a fanatic for the movies as I am.  We first bonded over this among other things.

 

So, as the last movie we'd watch together, I wanted to watch Star Wars one last time.  She agreed.

My whole life was coming apart- I quietly cried twice at work that day.

That night, after my five year old Daughter was in bed, I put on Star Wars, and as usual when watching it, my wife curled up and lay her head in my lap.  The opening crawl hadn't finished when she quietly said "This isn't the last movie we'll watch together.  We'll still watch movies."

 

I looked down at her with a questioning look.

"I'm not throwing you out of our lives.  I fully expect you to be in [Daughter]'s life, and in mine."

The tears welled up again.  I didn’t want to cry in front of her- I wanted her to enjoy the movie. 

The huge star destroyer swallowed the hopeless, helpless small ship.

No escape.

 

She fell asleep as the Millennium Falcon escaped from the Death Star.  I watched the whole thing.  And slept in my own bed for the last time.  At 3 AM, right on schedule, our dog, Nittany, put her paw in my face, wanting to go out.  I let her out and petted her a little extra when she came back in.

The next morning, I packed like crazy.  As did Wife.  Friends and trucks arrived at noon. I was quickly soaked with sweat in the heat.  Thanks to the amazing help, most of my things were moved where they were going in a few hours. 

Before leaving for the last trip, I took Nittany back to my old bedroom, and hugged her, petted her, and cried like crazy.

I also took a picture

Then I went to the "living room" where Daughter was drawing on a box we gave her to play with.  I hugged and held her and told her I loved her.

 

"What's wrong daddy?"

"Daddy has to go away for a while."

"Why?"

 

 

Wife waited out by my car.  We hugged and kissed… and cried. Both of us.

I drove down the driveway, away from the place I called home for ten years, and my wife of twenty years.

I pulled over twice on the way to the new place as tears kept drowning out my sight.

The plan was that I would treat everyone to dinner at Shangri-La, the local Asian fusion place that once held the transgender events: Laptop Lounge, and then some would come to Winberies, where the events had moved. I also invited my "Big Sister" Mel.  I took a long, cold shower, as I was really overheated.  During the day, I went lightheaded a few times.  I then did a quick job on my makeup, and I introduced myself to Jessica as Sophie for the first time.

Dinner was great, and most people went to Laptop. 

While there, Mel repeated something she’d told me many times: “Cry it out.  You don’t have to pretend to be a man any more.”

 

I returned to the house around midnight, thoroughly exhausted physically, emotionally, spiritually.  I washed off my makeup and collapsed into the bed I'd be sleeping in for a while. And cried myself to sleep as quietly as I could.

So in the short term, this meant that I was living by the charity of a friend. It meant seeing my daughter when I could.

But I wasn't in their day-to-day lives any more.

 

Spiraling...

 

But it also meant that I was free to be Me. I could come and go as a woman. I could go anywhere as Sophie, except for work.  

 

At Winberies that night

"You don’t have to pretend..."

 

I didn’t know how my life was about to become so much worse… and how soon.

 

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Over a decade later, when my daughter was sixteen, she was tired of the secrets and lies.  I was invited to a session with her therapist where she bluntly asked my “Why did you leave?”

For over a decade, I never told her- Wife insisted.  That time was over.

               “I didn’t leave- I was thrown out.”  And I told her the story as well as I could remember it, sparing no details.  After all, at this point, she could understand.

 

            And she did.

Sleep in the Stars, Big Sister

My "Big Sister", mentor, and one of my dearest friends, Mel, died on the morning of March 20, 2026.  She was 67, and been battling early onset Alzheimers.  

With Mel, June 2010

I had been at the Keystone Conference for the day to reconnect with friends.  I came back to State College and went across the street to my local pub to enjoy a glass of wine.  It was a rare moment- I felt content.  I felt I looked good.  

Then I checked my phone.  My email.  

Hi Sophie,

I hope you are well. This is Melissa's son, Mitch again. Unfortunately, I'm writing with some sad news. My father passed away this morning. As you know, she had been sick for a while, so it's in many ways a blessing that she's passed on. 

 And in a moment, I went blank.  I knew this was coming for more than a year.  But I hoped the day would never arrive.  As I was sitting at a semi-crowded bar, face covered in makeup, I fought back tears.  I paid my tab and walked out slowly.  I had to- I was wearing heels for the first time in forever.  Told you I felt good about my look.  I made it to the rainy sidewalk when the tears finally won.  The cliche- crying in the rain.  I could feel Mel's eyeroll from across the veil.  

I finally put up my umbrella and slowly walked back to the apartment.  All I could think about was her laugh.  The spark in her eyes that said "I know so much more than I'm telling you."  The smell of the lasagna she'd make when she invited me to dinner.  The stories she'd tell...

And so I cried.  

I slowly undressed, hung up my dress, tossed the bra onto the dresser...and laid on my bed and let the feelings flow.  "Let them out- there's nothing stopping you now.  You don't have to pretend to be a man anymore" she would tell me.  

After a bit, I emailed the news to he person who "assigned" Mel to me- my former therapist, Dr. Osborne.  As I wrote years ago, when Mel moved to Albany, 

I met Mel in 2009, at Angela's Laptop Lounge.  She came specifically to meet me, she said.  She didn't do many transgender events anymore, as she was pretty much stealth.  That said, she loved Southern Comfort Conference, where she saw many friends (she and I roomed together at my only SCC in 2013.)

 

Dr. Osborne asked her to advise me since, when Mel transitioned, she had two young children.  When I started seeing Dr. Osborne, my daughter was just over a year old. 

She moved to Albany to care for her ailing mother- who was dying from Alzheimers.  Did Mel know then?  When did she find out? 

She left in November of 2018.  Over seven and a half years ago.  I never saw her again.  Now, the next time I see her will be if her funeral is open casket.  Which I doubt.  

Our last drink.  November 2018.  

Oh, we talked of course.  She sent out almost daily commentaries on the news.  Her analysis, especially on financial policy.  You see, she was a gifted financial genius.  Seriously.  She made millions on Wall Street in the 80s.  

Those emails stopped in 2021.  Is that when she learned?  Or is that when she just... couldn't any more.  

The calls became less frequent.  And she didn't return messages.  Did I offend her?  In December 2024, I sent an email.

Hi Mel!

I haven't heard from you in forever, and the # I have goes right to VM.  I'm worried about you.  

Are you still there?

A week later, I received a reply.  

Hi Sophie,

This is ****, Mel's son. I hope you are well. I, unfortunately, have some sad news, and I apologize for not reaching out sooner. 

My dad was diagnosed with early onset dementia this past winter, and it's progressed pretty rapidly since. My sister and I moved her into an assisted living facility in March and into a memory care facility in North Jersey in August. She currently seems to have stabilized a bit and is doing okay with both good days and bad days. 

Unfortunately, one of her symptoms is pretty serious aphasia, and, as you've already experienced, another one of her symptoms is forgetting to charge her phone and generally not understanding how to work it. So in general, she is pretty hard to get a hold of and understand. However, if you want to send her a card, her address is 

*****

I was planning to give her a call tomorrow or Friday, and when I do, I'll be sure to mention that you reached out. I'm sure she'll really appreciate it, and I know I do too! 

I wrote a letter.  Trashed it.  Tried again.  And again.  I needed to tell her how much she meant to me.

January 12, 2025

Dear Mel,

            I’m writing just in case life keeps me from visiting you in NJ.  I’ll get to possible impediments in a bit.  In any case, I feel it’s important to tell you a few things.  Your son Mitch told me of your condition, and that this is the reason you’ve been incommunicado.  I’m so very sorry. 

            What I want to say (and hopefully I’ll see you to tell you personally) is how much you have meant to me all these years.  Without your help, support, and friendship, I literally would not be alive today.  You guided me through countless dark times and helped me celebrate victories.  I love talking about movies and music with you as your taste is impeccable, and you’re one of the few people who enjoy Dylan as much as me. 

            I know you are guarded as to whom you allow into your circle, and I’m honored that you allowed me in.  You’ve introduced me to so many new people and concepts.  I especially treasure the times you made dinner.  I wish I lived closer so we could dine together again. 

All that said, seeing you is a priority.  I want to talk with you again, just hang out, and give you a hug.  You’re one of the most important people I’ve ever had in my life, and I miss you.

As expected, No answer.  I made plans to see her- several times.  Each time life got in the way- usually financially.  

Then, that email.  Friday night.  In the rain.

I could write so much about Mel.  But she was a very private person- life taught her that.  I will say the following.  Mel was a math and financial genius.  She graduated from Boston University and went to work on Wall St. during the 1980s- with ALL that implies.  She worked for some of the most prestigious firms in the world.  She enjoyed weight lifting, music, movies, and cooking. Fine wines and Scotch. Dated beautiful women.  Married.  Two children.  The American Dream.

But...

There was this... problem.  She saw a therapist and said "cure me." There was no cure.  So Mel moved decisively.  Told her wife, divorced her (amicably), went to conferences and learned all she could, met some of the movers and shakers in transgender thought, made friends, and transitioned using the Top doctors in the country at the time.  Spared no expense.  She could easily afford it, even after the divorce.  

At work, She found that no one listened to her any more.  No one took her seriously.  After all, she was just a woman.  Then the firm for which she moved to the Philly area... "went in a different direction."  Her career was over.  Forced early retirement.

A few years later, against her better judgement, she agreed to mentor a scared new parent taking her first steps into her Truth.  Over time, we became friends, for which I'm honored, as she was very choosy about who she "let in."  Through Mel I met people and learned.  I learned through listening, watching, and not listening and paying the price.  

"Enjoy who you are, but never let down your guard."  "Transition should be your last resort- exhaust all other options save death."  "Get FFS (facial feminization surgery) BEFORE you transition and it'll save you a lot of grief." "Whether you think so or not, you will NEVER be prepared for transition, and the changes it will cause in your life.  It can destroy you."  "You don't have to pretend anymore..." 

She was also a huge baseball fan, and rooted for her beloved Yankees.  She told stories of sitting behind Billy Joel at the World Series.  Proof?  He signed her ticket.

Then there was the music.  She loved all kinds of music. Stones.  Who.  And above all, Bob Dylan.  She'd invite me to dinner at her place, and we'd listen to and discuss Bob Dylan records.  "If you're not busy being born, you're busy dying" the man would sing.  "Death to me means nothing as long as I can die fast."

But she didn't  Alzheimers is so cruel.  

Halloween 2010

Time.  I would give years of my life to her if I only could.  But in her case, death was a mercy.  

Mel was there for me when I was thrown out.  She drove me to the appointment to start HRT.  She was there to help me when Lisa died.  The night I sent my "Coming out" announcement we talked and texted extensively.  First day at work as Sophie.  At my "Debutante party." She was always there- without fail.  

But I couldn't be there for her as she faded away.  No one could help her.  But I will be there for her when she is celebrated.  And I will carry her wisdom and love with me the rest of my life.  And I will continue to pass on her wisdom to the "eggs" I mentor.  Like she did with me.  Against her better judgement.

Mel loved quoting authors, so here I quote Keroac from On the Road.  It's fitting.  You see, Mel was one of "the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."

Sleep well, my dear friend. My Big Sister.  As Bob sang, I'll  "See that [your] grave is kept clean."

SCC, 2013

Lucky?

I was texting with one of my cousins the other night.  She posted the following on fb:

I pointed out that we have family members who are part of the cult.  She said she knew- and that she avoids the topic when possible. 

She wrote:

"Its a very sad time in history. Ive taken a break from my first childhood friend. Not bc of her necessarily, but a mutual childhood friend jumped into a convo. I'd already unfriended this person."

I replied "I guess in some ways I'm lucky. I lost 90% of my friends when I transitioned. So I only lost about a half a dozen over maga."

"Ehhh..as you know, its a personal choice as to who one puts up with.  Are you lucky? That would make a great topic for your blog. I think you are lucky to know you have friends that you can be yourself with. Me.....I have many friends, but very very few know all of me. Make sense?"

"Makes a lot of sense. Am I lucky? I guess in only 2 ways. 1. I know who/what I am. 2. I know who my true friends are"

Is it possible to truly know another person?  Even after decades?

When I transitioned, I figured I knew how my closest friends would react, a good guess about how other friends would react, and an idea what most of my coworkers and others i knew would do.

Coworkers and others?  I figured most of them spot on.  I could always read people.  

Unfortunately, I was right about most of my friends.  But by then, I really didn't have many.  Really never did.  I'm a social misfit at best. I still wonder what it's like to be "normal."

But my closest friends?  People I'd known most of my life?  Several of them surprised me.  A couple of them who are very conservative not only supported me but all these years later are still there.  Has it been smooth?  No- but they're still there.  Conversely, a couple "liberal" friends just disappeared, and, despite me reaching out, we never spoke again.  

Then again, NONE of them knew about what was inside me.  I'd hidden it too well.  Even though everyone knew I was "different" in some way- picked on by the kids growing up, ostracized by most of my "brothers" at Penn State... but the idea of transgender never entered the realm of possibility.  

Either that makes me an amazing actor (and I have no acting awards), or an incredibly proficient liar.  I hate lies.  Yet I'm so good at it.

Only one person, a coworker from Baltimore whom I wasn't that close to, claimed he'd figured it out due to my level of anger at the world.  He'd seen it before in a family member who'd transitioned.  I don't doubt him- he's a pretty sharp guy.  

So, by that logic no one REALLY knew me- until that first Renaissance meeting in December 2008.  And in so many ways I was finally exploring the shadows of something I denied my whole life.  

Eighteen years later, I'm still learning.  

Valentine's Day 2026

So, can one person truly know another?  Even after, say, decades of marriage?

There are a very few people whom I know/knew well enough that we could finish each other's sentences.  And still, they surprised me.  One, with whom I was in a relationship, cheated on me and revealed a side I'd never suspected.  

Another killed herself.  She hid the signs so well.

Two of the biggest scars on my soul.

So, no.  I don't think its possible to truly know another person.  Everyone has secrets.  Everyone lies.  

"Don't tell me you know me When I don't even know myself"  Pete Townsend

I'm still learning.

Be well.