Burning

Interlude III: Burning

Tuesday, August 2, 1983.  Reagan Strongly Defends Policies On Minority And Women's Rights

I'd had enough.  I was done being a freak.  Goddamn it- I was a MAN (on the edge of seventeen!), and it was time I started acting like one!

Puberty finally kicked in about a year before, but I was still much shorter than my peers.  And still looked like I was twelve, which meant getting a date was all but impossible.  I used to go to dances with a friend named Cheryl, but I screwed that up a year before as well.  She'll probably never speak to me again.

Senior picture: July 1983

I was tired of being bullied by neighborhood kids, by my brother, by everyone.  So, I started studying martial arts in a dojo run by one of my mom's co-workers.  Beat the shit out of one of my bullies, and word got out.  His having a cast on his arm from a compound fracture was a good deterrent.

I would model myself after the men I saw in comics, but also after my dad and show no emotion, but Anger.  Endure no insult.  Defend.  Punish.

It was early afternoon when I started a fire in the backyard burn barrel using all my girl stuff: all the clothes, a wig I bought at Halloween in ’81, a little kindling wood, and lots of lighter fluid.  I put the makeup and shoes in a trash bag, and deposited it in the dumpster at Burger King, where I worked.  My family were all away in Delaware for the week, so no one would disturb me.

The hot, sticky sun beat down, as it had all summer.   As I watched and sweated, the flames rose to the music of my Sears boom box.

Since you've gone, I've been lost without a trace

I dream at night, I can only see your face.

 In the shade of the oak tree, our German Shepherd Sabre lay resting, indifferent.  He was an old dog at this point, and tired.  As the smoke and flames consumed my shame, I felt lost- Like I was burning a part of me I'd never get back.  I felt like a heavy veil descended over me.  Suffocating.  Drowning out all emotions.

Sabre.  1982

A week later, Sabre died suddenly of brain cancer.  

He'd been my confidante: the only one who I could talk to about all this.  I felt like he understood.  Or at least, didn’t judge.

Now, I had no one.

I spiraled into a depression that even my co-workers and few friends noticed. It's never left me, even after decades of denial and therapy.

No one could ever know.  After all…

Men don't share stupid feelings. 

 

 

 

 

            I saved Sabre’s dog tag and put it on my keyring.  It’s still there.

A month later, I started my senior year.  Priority one was applying to colleges.  Drexel University was my primary goal, but I also applied to Penn State, as well as Temple’s Tyler school of Art. 

Then in January ‘84, I met this girl from St. Pius high school at a school dance.  Her name (in my book) was Julianne.  A girlfriend would cure me of that… foolishness. 

Right?

40th reunion already?

On Saturday November 16, 2024, the Spring Ford High School Class of 1984 gathered at Copperfield Inn, Limerick, Pa., for their 40th reunion.

That's all you need to know.  Bye!

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Oh, ok I'll write more.  

Group shot from the Class trip.  I'm not in that photo

Wow.  Forty years in a heartbeat.  Heck, TEN years in a heartbeat.  Yet, in those ten, so much has changed.  I've gone from being new at transition to being a mentor: a trans "elder."  I've moved away from SEPa to State College, where I'm (supposedly) working on my PhD.  My daughter has gone from a child to a teenager.  The political scene has reached a boiling point.  I've made a friend or two but more than that have died.  The world survived a pandemic.

I have less years ahead of me than I have behind, and those years fly by.  I'd like to think that time has made me a better person, but I know that isn't true.  I've become more bitter and withdrawn.  I have gotten better at makeup though, despite rarely wearing it.

I wasn't going to attend this reunion.  It was $45 I didn't have. But, like the 30th, I was "bribed" by Eva, a classmate now in California.  She said she'd get me a hotel room for the night so I wouldn't have to drive back to State College that night.  Why she made me this offer, I don't know.  I still don't know why she offered to pay ten years ago.  

In any case, I made plans to get my hair styled near the hotel as I'm clueless.  It looked great for a while (until I started sweating.)  I then picked up wings at a local cheesesteak place that I must say were very disappointing.  I drove a backroad to the hotel that reminded me of what the area looked like when I was growing up- farms instead of strip malls and McMansion farms.

Limerick, PA

After meeting up with Eva (2 doors down in the hotel), she gave us both Korean facials (I have no idea what was in them- just that they were on plastic strips.)  She also wanted to do my makeup.  We settled on her doing my eyes and applying fake lashes which I simply cannot do.  She did a wonderful job on the eyes (I touched up one spot where there was a smudge) and I did the rest.  I wore the red dress I wore in Vegas with a bit of a push up bra.  Yes, I wanted the girls to shine!  I wanted to slay as best as I could.  That meant cleavage for miles, dammit!  

As I finished my makeup, the third of our group arrived.  She was my old friend Sue, who attended the 30th as well.  I went back to my room and watched the Penn State game as they changed and finished getting ready.  We rode over together in Eva's rental car, arriving just after 6.  When we arrived, we met a few other classmates in the parking lot.  We met another at the door.  Let's just say that back then, he and I didn't get along back in school.  Back then, we ended up in a fight which I handily won (remember- this is when I was still in the dojo.)  I did not introduce myself.  

I managed to reach some old classmates about this reunion.  One I hadn't seen (or heard from) in 30 years- not since the 10th reunion: Alecia.  She was #2 in our class (beaten by a razor thin margin) as well as an athlete.  Back then, we used to talk a LOT.  She was a sounding board after a couple of nasty events I will not discuss here.  When I first reached out to her (about the Scitman book) I wondered how she'd react to my transition.  I needn't have worried.  She took it all in stride, as I'd hoped (and rather expected.)  I'm guessing she googled me or something before responding, being a scientist and all.  Yes, she is a bionic scientist.  She can rebuild you.  She can make you better than you were.  Better, stronger, faster.  In any case, her husband was actually the one to talk her into going.  

With Alecia.  My hair already flattened.

She looked amazing (and yes, that's her natural hair color!)  We talked about old times, old friends, new times, her daughter's PhD... I always figured she'd become a doctor.  Nope- scientist.  Her husband was a delight as well.  He was content sitting back and watching people his wife knew from the day.  His opinion he kept to himself.

Eva, Thomas, Me, Dawn, Sue, Terri

I was surprised inside when I saw another old friend who'd moved to Houston: Dawn.  Dawn was a hairdresser by trade, and she was the one who did my makeup that Halloween fateful night in 2008.  Had I known she was in the area, I would've had her do my hair!  I was very glad to see her, and we sat next to each other at dinner.  (Dinner was nice, btw.)

As we're getting older, the number of "empty chairs" gets larger.  This time, there was a poster naming those who'd died.  It's missing a couple: John Cauffman and Don Schantz.  

Looking around, I noticed something: most of us looked our age.  Some looked younger.  Some looked FAR older.  Time had not been kind, and I assume neither had disease or such.  There but for the grace of God...  There were a couple of faces I hadn't seen at a reunion before this.  Alecia was one.  Another I will not name, but he was thrown out of the venue for being too drunk.  

Flat hair due to sweat- it was very hot in the room

I must say he wasn't the only one who made an ass of themselves.  I was standing in line for a drink when a slim, beautiful blonde and I started chatting.  I didn't recognize her, so I figured she must be a spouse.  She asked what I thought of the reunion, blah blah small talk.  She then asked what my opinion was of a certain classmate, whom I will call AH.  I didn't even think for a second as to why she would ask about such a specific person (who was in attendance) and said "He's an asshole. A bully.  He loved tormenting people smaller than him, thought women owed him sex then discarded them like toys, and all he ever talks about at the reunions is the spectacular football play he made our senior year.  (It actually was pretty spectacular, but still...)

I stopped myself before pointing out how, at the 30th, his wife wasn't there so he was flirting with many of the women.  Then I said, "Why do you ask?"  

She replied "Oh, I'm his wife."

Open mouth and insert leg!  I felt so incredibly stupid and apologized for my candor.  I bought her a drink.  She wasn't angry.  She explained that I wasn't the only one with that opinion.  Apparently, she knew very little about his high school days.  I said, "So you don't know about the 'the catch'?"  She rolled her eyes and said "oh believe me I've heard about THAT so many times..."  Anyway, she wanted to ask people about her husband to find out about his past from other people's point of view.  Perhaps she'd asked him and wasn't convinced by his answer.  In any case, she missed the 30th due to surgery.  I apologized again, and we parted.  We spoke again later, and she bought my last drink of the night (of 4).  

With Michele G

For the most part it was a quiet night, rather sedate.  I spoke with the people I expected/hoped to speak with, (including Michele G and Tony S) and that was nice.  My transition was old news, and only one person brought up the class trip (which was nice.)  That said, early in the night I had an affirming moment.  A female classmate (I won't say who) told me "I am so jealous of your tits!"  I thanked her and replied that I was very lucky.  

Still, that makes me smile, even as I write this.  At least SOMEBODY was impressed with my look for the night.  

After returning to the hotel, Eva, Dawn, a classmate named Al (who was very well dressed) and I hung out in my room, drinking and talking.  It was my favorite part of the night.  We learned things about each other and rehashed the events of the evening.  I finally went to bed at 3:30.  I was up at 8 to shower and go see Wife and daughter, followed by the long drive back to State College.  As you can imagine, by the time I arrived at the apartment I was exhausted.  I was really dragging at work the next day.  

I've had over a week to think about the event, of the people I saw, and where life had taken or done to us all.  After the thirtieth, I wrote "What brought me to this event?  What brought the others?  I think it's the need for Connection.  All we have in common is that we lived in the same area and were about the same age, so that made us classmates...  Connection.  We all need it.  Maybe in time all wounds heal, but they never heal alone.   Sometimes it takes Change... and someone extending their hand."  

That still applies.  I'd add to that these reunions also connect us to our long-lost youth- the halcyon days of energy, vigor, spectacular catches, and a life wide open with possibilities.  It seems that's all some people have.  That's not an indictment or a judgement: it just is.  I spoke to my dad about the reunion.  He had his sixtieth reunion several years ago- it was the first he'd ever attended.  He also said it would be the last held, as their numbers dwindle (they are all in their 80s.)  That's twenty years away for me- a heartbeat or last breath.  A wise friend once told me "Days drag, but years fly."  

They weren't wrong.  

Thanks again to Eva for her kindness in getting me a room for the night. 

Be well.

Gen X vs Gen Z 80s Music Lists

In addition to my PhD studies here at PSU, I also work at the LGBT Center part time.  There I do various things, including (for a while) delivering and re-doing transgender training programs (they have hired someone to do that job who isn't me.  Apparently I'm not a 'good ambassador.)  In any case, PSU celebrates Pride Month in April, as no one is here in June (comparatively.) Of the three signature events of the month, one is the "Prom you didn't have" where students can be themselves.

This year, the theme was "Decades of Decadence", and we had displays about LGBT history pre-1920, 1920, and each decade until now.  I was assigned 1920s, 30s, and 40s, where I drew a lot of what was happening from Weimar Germany (which I wrote about HERE) and Pansy Parties of the 20s and 30s.  The music for this prom would be drawn from decades between 1920-current.  I was asked to find music from my time periods.  What?? The Queen of 80s music doesn't get to select 80s music!  A woman who LIVED the 80s is denied?  

The History Panels, each seven feet high

I got over it.

Fortunately, I know enough about 20s-40s music to be dangerous, and I sent selections for each decade.  But I wondered... what 80s music would the person selecting the 80s music choose?  What music would someone born decades after the Decade of Greed and MTV select as the most appropriate dance-ish music of the decade?  

So I made my list.  As I didn't attend the event (that would've been creepy and thrown off the 'vibe'), I asked the Gen Z student (GZ) for their list so I could compare.  I told them about my little thought exercise.  They sent me the following (to which I've added links.)

"80s-

- “Take on Me” a-ha (upbeat dance)

- “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” Tears for Fears (upbeat dance)

- “Come on Eileen” Dexys Midnight Runners (upbeat dance)

- “Careless Whisper” George Michael (cooldown)

- “Time After Time” Cyndi Lauper (slow dance)

- “The Way You Make Me Feel” Michael Jackson (upbeat dance)

- “Never Tear us Apart” INXS (cooldown)"

Art by Nagel.  He defined the early 80s.

I then sent her my list, with comments.  I added links.

"Interesting (And great choices!)  I went for all upbeat.  And didn't look at yours, as that's the point of this exercise.  

Billie Jean - Michael Jackson (over Beat It as it's just iconic.  That bass line!  Michael is one of 4 "must have" mainstream artists)

Vogue - Madonna (Madonna is a must have, and this one set off a craze.)

Tainted Love - Soft Cell (yes, a cover, but iconic.)

1999 - Prince (This barely beats out Let's Go Crazy or Kiss.  Prince is another "must have")

Girls Just Want To Have Fun- Cyndi Lauper (Just pure joy from one of the most original mainstream 80s artists)

The Safety Dance - Men Without Hats (Oh come on- this is just fun!  Bouncy silly fun song about nuclear annihilation)

Pump Up the Volume - M/A/R/R/S (That groove!) (The video isn't official, but it's fun)

Relax - Frankie Goes To Hollywood (Gay icons break through with an infectious hook.  I prefer Two Tribes, but this one is the better known)

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go - Wham! (Another "must")

Nasty - Janet Jackson (Attitude, beat... yes!)

(Obviously, I had to leave a lot out.  But these are what I remember as being inescapably huge songs in the clubs of the time)"

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

In a second email, I sent this:

"My thoughts on your selections (like you care)  😉 :

- “Take on Me” a-ha (upbeat dance)  This was the last one I cut.  It was between this and "Pump Up the Volume."  This one is iconic.

- “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” Tears for Fears (upbeat dance)  Gen X theme song.  I didn't include it as it just isn't as danceable.

- “Come on Eileen” Dexys Midnight Runners (upbeat dance)  Huh.  I wasn't aware that y'all knew this Celtic mess of a song.  One of my personal faves, an the dirtiest mainstream #1 hit of the 80s

- “Careless Whisper” George Michael (cooldown)  Iconic.  Perfect choice for cooldown.  If I'd included slower numbers, this would be there.

- “Time After Time” Cyndi Lauper (slow dance) Co-written by Rob Hyman of the Hooters (who sings backup), this was my first girlfriend and my "song."  Again, iconic and would've been included over True Colors.

- “The Way You Make Me Feel” Michael Jackson (upbeat dance)  My personal MJ fave, but I'll stick to Billie Jean.  Still... this groove...  (loses points for the stalky creepy video)

- “Never Tear us Apart” INXS (cooldown) Is this their best slow song?  Easily.  Moody, smoky, heartbreaking.  Again, if I'd included slow jams, this would be there.  Don't Change is still my fave INXS song, which was simply amazing live.  

A couple of slow jams I'd consider as well:

Keep on Loving You- REO Speedwagon (8th grade dance heaven)

You're the Inspiration- Chicago.  (Barely over Hard to Say I'm Sorry)

True- Spandau Ballet.  So smooth.  Senior year dance vibes.  

I'm that type of guy- LL Cool J.  Smooth hip grinder.  

Purple Rain- Prince.  Duh."  

They never responded to the emails, so I never knew what they thought of my selections or comments (they mentioned they were surprised that they were aware of Come On Eileen, as it's very well known to Gen Z.)  

I asked AI to generate a list of 80s greatest dance party hits.  It returned:

Break my Stride- Matthew Wilder

Don't Stop Believin'- Journey

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) - Eurythmics

Girls Just Want to Have Fun- Cyndi Lauper

Every Breath You Take - the Police

So obviously our robot overlords don't know squat about 80s dances.  

So, what do I think of their list, and how it compares to my crusty old self's list?  

As I wrote GZ, their list was interesting.  Obviously it would be very hard to screw this list up, but it could be done.  I'd say their choices are 'safe' and kinda what I'd expect from someone who is passingly (is that a word?) familiar with the decade's music.  Then again, my selections were 'safe' as well, spanning several genres but avoiding others that might be less... identifiable, like Electronica (Kraftwerk), Avant Garde (Grace Jones comes to mind), a deeper dive into various hip hop genres (Run DMC, Grandmaster Flash, Sugerhill Gang), or more New Wave/New Romantics, like Adam Ant and Elvis Costello (Goody Two Shoes and Pump It Up almost made my list.)

In many ways, the music of the 1980s (my high school and college years) is timeless.  It brings back memories of times good and bad, and especially of the days when the music MATTERED.  Music was my escape from my life at the time and meant everything to me.  In many ways it still does despite my hearing loss making listening more difficult.  It reminds me of a time when I was young, and the possibilities were endless if I could just escape my small town.  

I stopped being "current" with music around the end of Grunge, and really don't like much of the current stuff I hear.  Not to sound like my parents, but it all sounds the same to me.  I acknowledge the talent/genius of Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift, but I don't listen to their music.  It isn't MY music.  It isn't aimed at me.  So now I remain stuck in my little music cocoon of genres pre- 1994.  I listen to big band, Sinatra, Doo-wop, "classic rock", and my precious 80s music.  (I'm the Queen of 80s Trivia, btw.)  

In the end, my final evaluation and comparison is this: who am I to judge who like what?  Of course a Gen Z person would make safer choices than someone my age- they don't know the possibilities- the breadth and majesty of 80s music.  It would be like me making a list of 1960s music and comparing it to a hippie's.  Yes, I know a LOT about the era, but I didn't live it, and I don't know the nitty-gritty of the scenes.  What would I make for an 80s party for people my age?  I already did that: 4 CDs worth.  :)

Oh, in case you're interested, this is the list I sent in for 20s-40s.  I don't know if/what was played.  

1920s 

Eddie Cantor: Makin' Whoopee  (mid tempo) 

Sweet Georgia Brown (quick) 

Sophie Tucker (fast) / Bessie Smith (slow):   I Ain't Got Nobody 

Jelly Roll Morton: Black Bottom Stomp (fast-ish) 

Cole Porter (Ella Fitzgerald) : Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall in Love) 

Irving Berlin: "Puttin' On the Ritz" 

1930s 

Duke Ellington:  It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing) (mid tempo) 

Bennie Goodman: Sing, Sing, Sing (With A Swing) (fast- best known song of the big band era) 

Air Mail Special (fast) 

Cole Porter:   

    I’ve Got You Under My Skin 

    Night and Day  

    Anything Goes 

Andrews Sisters: "Nice Work If You Can Get It" 

Glen Miller:  "Moonlight Serenade" (slow, but guaranteed you know it) 

    Pennsylvania 6-5000 

Cab Calloway: Minnie the Moocher (mid tempo) 

Count Basie: One O’Clock Jump (fast) 

Louis Armstrong:  Stardust 

    Just a Gigolo (slow) 

Lil’ Armstrong: Lindy Hop (fast- spawned a dance craze) 

1940s 

Duke Ellington:  Take the A Train (mid-fast) 

    I Got It Bad (and That Ain’t Good) (slow- get the Ella Fitzgerald (best) or Nina Simone (if you         want a more modern interpretation) 

Glenn Miller: "Chattanooga Choo Choo" (fast) 

Andrews Sisters: "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" (all A.S. songs are fast) 

    "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree" 

    “Rhumboogie” 

Artie Shaw: Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate The Positive 

Be well.  

"Why do they do that?"

 This entry is a response to the question posed in the title.  First some backstory.

The other day I had a mani-pedi, thanks to a generous Xmas gift (thanks Jennifer S!).  I don't get to treat myself often and I needed to feel feminine, so there I was.  Sitting next to me was a college age blonde getting gel nails re-done or touched up or whatever they do to those.  She was beautiful, even with her hair up in a casual attempt at a bun and no makeup.  The person doing her nails was also college age, and very good at her job.  (Also drop dead gorgeous).  

In any case, as I was sitting right next to them, I couldn't help but overhear their conversation, even being as hard of hearing as I am.  The blonde was talking about how a guy friend invited her to a formal (I assume fraternity) that coming weekend (last weekend.)  She asked in which way was the invitation meant: as friends going or as a "date date" in which "we'd f*ck at the end of the night."  He wanted her to go as a date, as he liked her.  That upset her a bit.  "Why do they do that?" she asked, to which the nail person shook her head and agreed "No idea."

Now, I sat there quietly, and didn't reply despite having the answer she sought.  After all, my listening was an act of nosiness in itself, and I didn't want to be THAT nosy (even though I am by nature: I'm a writer.)

Last week

The simple answer is "he does that because he's gotten to know you, and likes what he sees."  Yes, there's a chance that all he wants is to have sex, but after a guy gets to know you, that becomes less of a possibility.  In other words- he likes you for YOU."

Unfortunately, I learned long ago that young women don't think that way.  I've found that Mike Demone in "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" is correct: "a girl decides how far she's gonna let you go in the first five minutes."  Or less.  Either she wants you or it's friend's ladder.  So the whole developing a love interest, it doesn't happen.

A quick sidebar: what happens at a fraternity formal?  Well, it's as close to a junior high dance as college gets.  The guys clump together and get stupid drunk, and, if their date knows other people, she clumps with the girls she knows.  The couple eat dinner together, and may hang out on and off, but, unless they are a couple, that's really about it.  In the 80s, it was a status thing to be invited to a fraternity formal, especially for a sorority girl.  I have no idea if it is still that way.

My fraternity house

"But Sophie- you're a woman!"  Yes, and I was then as well, much as I tried to bury it.  But this is true- young women throw away so many good guys as "friends" who are exactly what they're looking for, but don't immediately get their 'motor running.'  I wrote a whole story about this back in the early 90s called Promises of Heaven.  (If I ever find it, I'll type it into the blog for everyone to ignore.)  The difference between me and them is the lack of functioning feminine genitalia back in the day.

I don't know if she ended up going with him to the formal or not.  A large part of me hopes she did, just to prove my cynical ass wrong.  But I doubt it.

In any case, is this entry fueled by bitterness?  Absolutely.  Should I be over it by now (married almost 30 years)? Absolutely.  Am I? 

Nope.

Be well.

Capacitor for Work

I'm currently fifty six years old and not in great shape.  Today I did the following:

Emptied a book shelf.

After doing so, I felt worn out.  I was coated in sweat, and for a time I felt dizzy.  I told my roomie/bestie Linda that I didn't feel good.  But I'd rented a van, and only had it for a few hours, so we had to get moving.  

You see, dear reader, I'd agreed to take a bookshelf from one of my bosses, as he's moving out of state.  It didn't fit in my car, so I needed a van.  And I needed Linda's help, as it was not only big, but very heavy- good sturdy wood.  Sturdy HEAVY wood. 

 

So off to Port Matilda (a nearby town) with the van, with Linda driving.  We loaded the van with a little help, and drove back as the sun set.  We still had a problem: how to get it out of the van, up a flight of steps, into the apartment and set up.  The shelf is 7 feet tall and heavy!!  

Fortunately a neighbor was home, and helped us carry it.  He refused any form of payment, but agreed to a dram of Glenmorangie with me.  

Then Linda and I moved just a few more things, and I reloaded the one shelf.  I was a sweaty mess.  Again, I felt dizzy and so tired.  So very tired- just loading and unloading a shelf.  I used to do this sort of thing all the time- stocking shelves, moving books around, with no trouble at all.

Now, doing this completely wears me out.  It makes me feel like my ability to work, my ability to be useful, may be coming to an end.  And of course, in a capitalist society, if I can't work then I'm worthless.  Maybe I need a capacitor to help my capacity to work.

I made that vase in art class my senior year in high school.

In any case, the one shelf is restocked, and the other will have books and things.  The apartment is small, so having more shelving helps.  

This getting old thing really sucks.

Be well.

Scitman

Back in summer 1982, so much was changing in my world.  I was fifteen, with sixteen (and a driver's license) so tantalizingly close.  Some of my friends already were driving, and I envied their freedom.  They could leave this town and go to exotic places like MALLS and such without their parents.  It was the summer before my junior year in high school.  Local cable started carrying MTV which was brash, bold, and new at the time.  I was in my first summer of working at Burger King: a job which would define my high school 'social life' such as it was.  

And I was cross-dressing.  Whenever my parents went to the house down in Delaware, I stole chances to be feminine.  I'd ordered clothes from the Sears catalogue and used water balloons for boobs.  I felt what I was doing was absolutely wrong, and I didn't understand the compulsion.  I knew it was dangerous, and that the consequences for being caught would be extreme.

Still, I had a small group of friends- kind of two.  One group was the "D&D group" which consisted of Dr2Dave and another guy (who is now an MD), as well as "R".  I'm still friends with two of them.  The other group was among a group who orbited around a rather large baby faced guy we called Scitman.

Scitman was tall and very strong.  He was a lineman on the school football team, an outdoor sports enthusiast, and a genuinely nice guy.  However, among this particular group, Scitman was best known for his ability to belch, loud and long.  He could belch the entire alphabet at one go.  Childish, I know, but we were in our early teens.  

Occasionally joining us (usually on the basketball court) was a girl I'll call Pam.  Pam was tall, athletic (varsity girl's basketball) and incredibly smart.  In fact she was one of the top three of our class in GPA.  I think she had a crush on another guy in the group, who I'll call Bill.  Bill was also an outdoor enthusiast, loved basketball and bad jokes.  In any case, usually the group was me, Bill, and Scitman.  

Original Page One pencils

Back then, I really wanted to be a comic writer/artist.  I was also very much into D&D (go figure.)  In addition, I REALLY wanted people to like me, despite me being undersized and, well, different.  After all, I had this dark secret: cross dressing!  (Ominous crash of thunder).  I'd done a few short subject comics in ninth grade for my friends, and was published in the local newspaper for a while.  One day I bought a hardcover sketchbook and decided to fill it with a comic- a D&D comic, but one that people would like (D&D wasn't popular then.)  

And so Scitman the Barbarian was born.  I'd draw two or three pages at a time, usually while watching MTV.  On days that I wasn't working, I'd walk over the bridge to Royersford (where Scitman and the others lived, and try to find them- which I usually did, at the basketball courts.  There I'd show them the new pages, hoping to get laughs.  Sometimes I did- sometimes I didn't.  In any case, I enjoyed doing it, and saw the book as practice for my hopeful career. 

Page One Inked

Some of the poses I blatantly stole from Frank Miller's Daredevil, in both books I and II.  Also, some of the scenes have graphic violence, which was a way for me to release all the anger and frustration, as well as helplessness I felt.  Unfortunately, a few characters late in book I (a little in book II as well) are crude stereotypes that my 15 year old small town mind found amusing.  Looking at them now, I cringe.  Still, I'll ink them as drawn, and note that it was inappropriate then and now (like they do on Looney Tunes cartoon compilations.)  In any case, it's not like anyone will see them, as I don't intend to publish them.  This is an exercise in completion for me.

I finished the first book on July 29, 1982.  98 pages of cartoons- all in artists pencils.  My little circle loved it.  I bought another sketchbook and started on a sequel, imaginatively titled Scitman the Barbarian Book II.  

All Three Scitman books

I was a junior in high school.  Burger King had become my social life.  I was writing to various colleges for information (this was pre-internet) as I knew college was my only hope of escaping the small town where I was trapped.  People heard about Scitman, and the book was passed around the school.  In addition, I was practicing art and developing a portfolio.  Consequently, Scitman II had some new characters, again based on people I knew, new monsters and character types, and better artwork.  Looking back now at the two finished books, I could see the progression of my art as I did my best to improve my anatomical art and other aspects.  I finished Scitman II on April 22, 1983.  Would I continue?  Of course!  

This time, I couldn't find a sketchbook of similar size, so I bought a bigger one.  I decided that Scitman III would be inked and in color, but quickly abandoned that thought.  In this book, there were some new characters and villains, these taken from my BK friends among others.  I finished 56 pages of that book before stopping.  I'd fallen into deep depression after deciding to stop that cross-dressing foolishness and be a man.  In addition, I started training to be an Emergency Medical Technician.  And so, the Scitman saga ended.

From Scitman II

For my 10th high school reunion in 1995, I managed to photocopy (poorly) Scitman I, and gave copies to a few of the friends who appeared in it.  I didn't go to art school and wasn't a comic book writer artist.  I was selling toy soldiers for Games Workshop.  I dreamed of inking the books and somehow scanning them into a computer someday.  

Maybe five years ago, I bought artists pens from the book store where I worked.  I started inking Scitman, as I noticed the pencils were fading away after years in storage.  I didn't get far.  Recently, I broke out the pens again, and have been working on it again.  I'm more than 1/4 way through inking Scitman I now.  

From Scitman III

Time and transition has separated me from those friends.  All of them graduated from college and have lives and families.  At least one, Chuck, is dead.  I intend to finish inking at least book 1, and scan it in to the computer.  If I can finish both I and II, I'll then send the books to Scitman, whom I haven't spoken to in decades.  I think he'd still get a kick out of them.  After all, that was the point.  

Reading these books, I still see the kid craving attention, scared of what the future may hold.  In some ways, I'm still that kid- desperate to please others and craving acceptance.  However, I know now that acceptance will take more than me scribbling pictures- I'm just not that good at it.  I gave up on achieving acceptance long ago, as I never will.  Now, I just want peace.

In any case, in some universe somewhere, Scitman the Barbarian lives on, even if not from my pen.

(Addendum: I finished inking book 1 on Oct 31, 2022, over 40 years after I finished the pencil work.)

Be well.

From Scitman II

Nights Then and Now

I remember when I was a late teen and in college.  My parents' idea of a night was sitting at their respective places- mum in her chair, and dad at his side of the couch, watching tv.  Dad would be drinking cheap beer- either Reading Premium or Schmidt's.  That's if dad were home, as he worked swing shift at the power plant.  I remember them sitting there quietly staring blankly at the TV as I went out to a friend's place or whatever (if I wasn't working a night shift that is.)  At that point, my parents were in their late forties or early fifties.  

I remember feeling a little sorry for them- that their lives were work, work, work, and just staring at the TV and turning off their brains.  I remember thinking to myself 'if I ever end up that way, I hope someone shoots me.'   Then I'd go and kill brain cells or whatever I was doing that night.  I was young, and as tired as I thought I was, I still had that energy of youth.  I could still stay out drinking until dawn with little problem, or get by on four hours of sleep (which was normal for me back in my days working in the restaurant biz.)  When I started working approximately 9-5 (more or less), I started sleeping more.  By then, I'd met Wife, so I didn't have to go out looking for love or such.  Yes, I still went out, but not as much.  

55.  No makeup

Fast forward to today.  I'm  55.  I don't work nights anymore (even at the grocery store, the latest I'd work was 8 pm.)  I don't live with Wife anymore- not since 2013.  So what do I do at night?  Well, if I'm not doing homework (this PhD thing is really hard! Go figure), I'm slumped on the couch watching a movie.  Or a baseball game.  I'm draped on the couch drinking water and trying not to allow my mind to go to dark places.  I try to forget everything I've lost.  My body aches everywhere.  And I'm absolutely exhausted, as the energy of youth is long gone, as is the enthusiasm.  Going out means dealing with people, possible getting misgendered or worse, and spending money I don't have.  

So what am I doing?  Exactly what my parents did.  Staring blankly at the TV.  Desperately hoping that someway, somehow, my brain will turn off and let me enjoy something again.  Or relax.  Because no matter how tired I am, the nightmares await impatiently for my insomnia to finally allow me to sleep.  

Getting Caught

Thinking back all the way to when I first put on a piece of feminine clothing until, well, today to some extent, my biggest fear concerning being trans has been getting "caught."  Discovery.

It's something feared by transgender women from crossdressers to transitioned, but mostly  those who are closeted. (Heidi Phox has a fun video about this.)

When I first started, I feared being caught by my parents or my brother.  I knew that if my parents caught me, the punishment would've been beyond severe.  Possibly being thrown out or worse.  And if my older brother (OB) caught me, he'd instantly tell them while greatly embellishing the story to the point where the only true part would be the skirt.  (In reality though, when my brother caught me, it meant a huge bribe to buy his silence, combined with the knowledge that he had something terrible on me.  But to his credit, he never told.)

So I usually dressed when they all were away.  Sometimes when mum was away and dad was on night shift, so asleep during the day.  It really depended upon how bad my dysphoria was on a given day.  

Sometimes I'd dress if they were out running errands, but then it would only be hose or something easily removed and hidden.  During those times, I kept my ears peeled for the squeak of the front door, or the sound of one of the vehicles in the driveway.  I sort of miss those days, fresh with discovery and fear.  My adrenaline ran very high and senses were on edge.  At those times, the clothes felt extra silky and soft.  

But then that sound- was that the door?  The frantic scramble to unzip, unhook, don't rip it!  Hide it hide it!  God help me if I had on makeup!  That usually meant shower time- that was my excuse for all the washing.  

Close calls.  Oh, so many close calls!  The sound of my mother's voice shouting my name up the stairs... I didn't hear her come in!  PANIC!  Strip!  Oh don't come up here!  As I mentioned, I was only caught once, and that was by OB.  

After Halloween 2008, I was hiding from the whole world, especially my Wife.  I knew that the consequences for being caught now- with a family and career- would be catastrophic.  I took every precaution and thought through every move.  Motels paid in cash.  Post office box in another town. Storage site several towns away.  I was so cautious, and wasn't caught.  I realized an important fact: that no one would recognize me because they weren't looking for me.  Even if they were looking for me, they wouldn't be looking for me dressed as a woman.  They may recognize that I'm a crossdresser, but not who I am.

Of course, the problem happened because this blog was found.  I was Thrown out.

Since then, I haven't cared who found out.  And then in March 2014, I came out to the world.  Since then it's been misgender, misgender, misgender.  But no more hiding.

I know no one reads this anymore, but I'll ask anyway: have you ever been caught crossdressing?  What happened?

A Party Long Ago

I've recently been thinking about a party I attended- the first (of two) parties I was ever invited to during my k-12 years.  This one occurred when I was in seventh grade, so late fall 1978.  Ugh, was it really 43 years ago?

Most kids my age were starting puberty.  I watched as the girls began changing, and desperately wished I would change like them as well, but it was not to be.  In fact, even for guy adolescence, I was a late bloomer.  So, essentially, I was even more of a kid when I attended this party.  Remember that- it's important.  

7th Grade School Photo

Right, so I was in seventh grade, which back then was the first year of Junior High: a whole new environment.  Suddenly, I was thrown in with so many new kids from other elementary schools in the district.  Quickly, cliques and a social pecking order formed.  I was in an academic section, and, if not at the bottom of the popularity scale, I was next to last.  I kept to myself for the most part, as I didn't want to be picked on.  

One major social addition to school was school dances.  Many people my age know what they were like- boys gravitated to one side of the gym while the girls were on the other with little mingling (except for the really confident guys who were high on the social scale.)  They played the hits of the day over the loudspeakers.  Two songs I distinctly remember were Keep on loving you by REO Speedwagon and Sad Eyes by Robert John.  No one danced to the fast songs, as no one had figured out how yet, but slow songs saw people couple up to slow dance (at arm's length of course).  I think each grade had their own dances at this point, so there were no bigger kids there.  At least I don't remember any.  In any case, these dances were formal, which for me meant polyester jacket and tie from Sears.  That's not what I wanted to wear.  

Page from 1979 Sears Catalogue

At one of the early dances (October?), someone told me I should ask a certain girl to dance, as she thought I was cute.  Me?  So, I screwed on what little courage and asked her to dance.  I'll call her "Susan", but that wasn't her name.  Susan was in my section, so I saw her every day, but never knew she, or anybody, even knew I existed.  We danced, chatted about whatever, and shared the next dance as well.  

I don't remember the exact timeline, as I wasn't keeping a journal at that time, but it was around Halloween that I received an invitation to a party at the home/farm of a classmate in Limerick, which was extremely rural at the time.  I was absolutely shocked!  I learned that I received the invite because Susan liked me.  I didn't wear a costume- my mum made me wear a shirt and tie.  Hell, I didn't know what people my age wore to parties!  As a result, I was the only one there not in costume and the only one wearing a tie.  I remember Susan wearing a pale blue and white dress and the hostess wore a white sweater and dark slacks.  

Page from the 1979 Sears Catalogue

The party was on a farm.  I remember cows and an electric fence.  I remember both as I remember that someone dared me to touch the wire fence.  Zap!  The party itself was held in a small outbuilding: a large shed or something like it.  There were benches around three walls, and it was lit by candles.  There was some food, but I don't remember what.  It was very cold outside, and the shed was heated, but I forget how.  I remember the Cheshire smile crescent moon dancing through scattered clouds.

The hostess was one of the popular girls- I'll call her "Amy."  Amy was ahead of some of the other girls, puberty wise, as she had a shapely, feminine butt, yet small breasts like her peers.  Amy wanted to be a model and may have had the looks for it if she filled out right.  As it was '78, her mane of brunette hair was styled Farrah Fawcett style.  

For the beginning, everyone sat around talking about school and such- everyone else there previously went to Limerick elementary, so they knew each other.  Also, there were older kids there.  I knew a few people: the hostess, Susan, and a male classmate.  There were maybe 7 or 8 others aside from them. 

At one point, Amy started talking about pairing off "like this" and started making out with the guy next to her.  I was sitting next to Susan, and could sense her unease.  So, I excused myself to go to the restroom, which was in the main house.  When I returned, I was met outside the door by a classmate (I don't remember who,) who awkwardly told me that Susan "isn't that kind of girl" as I thought.  I replied that I wasn't that kind of guy, and we went in the door.

You see, I figured everyone else was where Amy was in her "maturity" and that I was the only one who was so far behind.  It wasn't true, really, but still, half the people in the room were passionately kissing while the other half sat around awkwardly.

An eternity later, my mum arrived to take me home from the party.  I couldn't leave fast enough- I felt so awkward.  

Looking back, I now wonder how Amy was sexualized at such an early age.  She'd obviously done this before, and, judging by the way the guy was groping her, was enjoying it.  I wonder if something horrific happened to her as a child.  Horrible thoughts, I know, but was her behavior normal, even for that time?  As I was (and am) socially backwards, I don't know.  

I assumed everyone my age was having sex by the eighth grade, and I had no clue how to attract a girl.  I didn't realize that, being a very rural school district, people "started" a little early, nor did I realize that a lot of their talk was simply bluster.  

Some changes occurred over the years

Now, all these years later, so much has changed.  I finally left my secret behind years ago, and finally experienced some of the changes I so wanted back when puberty was still in my future.  Of course, I still suffer the after-effects of decades of testosterone poisoning, and will never have feminine hips, etc, but I'm as close as I'll ever get to being the woman I should have been.  

So why think of all this now?  Why did this memory push forward after all this time?  Simple: I was 12 when I attended that party.  My classmates were 12-13.  

My daughter is now 13, and in seventh grade.

As I've been absent for most of her life (due to being thrown out all those years ago), I can only hope that she'll make the right decisions for her, and not succumb to peer pressure.  I know that I can't "bubble wrap" her to protect her from life and growing up.  

I think about my teen years, and some of the decisions I made.  As I was a social outcast, I didn't have to make a lot of the decisions that other kids had to make, like about drinking, drugs, and sex.  These weren't options for me until my later teens/ early twenties.  By then, I'd already had that desire to help others and the burning need for justice, so I saw things primarily in black and white.  There was right and wrong, and everything about my life was wrong.  Yes, I knew that shades of grey existed, but I didn't want to see them.  It was only in college that I saw that such right/wrong situations were rare, and that everything was grey: a continuum.  And it took me so many years later to realize that are very few binaries in the world, and gender is not black and white, male and female.  Yes, I am a woman, but I'm not like natal women.  I'm somewhere in the grey.  I can wish all I want that I had been born with a female body, but wishing won't make it so.

All I can do now is hope that my daughter is smart enough to learn from mistakes, and listen to what her mother and I can give her.  I hope that her life is so much better than mine (it already is, as she doesn't have to wake up each morning thinking about how she's in the wrong body) but I want so much more for her.  Above all, I want her to find the happiness in her teen years that I never did, and the happiness in life that I still can't find.  

As for what happened after that party, Susan and I never dated.  She quickly lost interest, and eventually so did I.  In fact, after seventh grade, we rarely spoke.  She, Amy, and I eventually graduated together.  The only other time I ever spoke to Amy was at graduation.  The memory is just a fragment, but a powerful one as it recalls who and where I was at that time.  My first party invite.. and last until my senior year... and in so many ways I disappeared; faded into the background.

I hope my daughter doesn't do the same.

"Tomb of Horrors" for Charity

On July 27, 2019, I was Dungeon Master for a charity game of 1st edition Dungeons and Dragons (DnD) which benefited the Phoenixville Women's Outreach Center.   This event occurred at Nerd Merch, which is a new gaming "store" in Phoenixville, PA.

The game Dungeons and Dragons was published in 1974.  I started playing in 1978, just as the first edition (1e) of Advanced DnD was being released.  This is the version I played the most- all the way through college and after.  Second edition (2e) was published in 1989, and that's the edition that was current when I worked for TSR (company that fist published the game) from 1992-4.  In 1997, TSR was purchased by Wizards of the Coast (WOTC.) WITC was purchased by Hasbro in 1999.  DnD is currently enjoying a new resurgence with its 5th edition (5e). (Wikipedia)

I can't say I'm a big fan of 5e.  Power gaming at its worst.  And dumbed down like crazy.  That's why I prefer earlier versions.

A seat at the table cost $20.  That got you your character.  If your character died, you could "re-buy" another for $10.  Every cent was going to the Center.  The module was Tomb of Horrors, (ToH) known by gamers as the deadliest dungeon ever written.  The (surviving) creator of DnD, Gary Gygax, was tired of players complaining about how tournament modules were too easy, so he wrote ToH to absolutely kill characters.  In this module, characters died.  Often.  So, the rebuy was going to raise more money.  I also set up an online fundraiser.

I arrived and the staff at Nerd Merch helped me set up the tables.  I pre-made appropriate characters, chose appropriate spell, and put them in color coded folders.  I figured that if the players were shelling out $20 per seat, they should get the best I could make it within my means.  I did my best to set the players for success.  All was ready and set up for noon... and nobody showed... until near 1.  Sigh. 

Mt set up behind the screen

Eventually I had eight players- mostly around my age.  The store was crowded, and people playing whatever at other tables were curiously looking over.  We recruited one from another table.  Score! 

First Corridor

After a few "false starts" the group finally found the true entrance.   This first corridor was loaded with trap doors... and a "false path" of red tiles set into the floor.  These traps would claim the first kill- a paladin who was impaled on poison spikes.  The group found their way into a second hallway, and pressed onward.

Oh, I forgot to mention, each player had one "Mercy."  It was essentially a re-roll.  The party leader had two of these.  You could buy more for $5.00 each, again going to the Center.  You could also get more for good role playing or having a great idea.  By the end of that first corridor, the party had used almost all their Mercy. 

Original art.  Want a gem?

I used all the original pictures as player aids.  I made enlarged copies so they were easier to see, though. 

The idea was to play until all characters were dead or surrendered.  By the end, all but one had been magically deposited, butt-naked, back at the Tomb entrance.  The one who hadn't was at the entrance, having run away earlier.  The others surrendered, so the one guy won the "prize:" a never released Citadel miniature so rare that even staff only ever got one (this one was mine.)

What did I get paid for all this?  3 bottles of Fiji water- exactly what I requested.  Between the day and the online, we raised over $300 for the Phoenixville Women's Outreach Center... which they didn't expect as the guys at Nerd Merch never told them that the event was happening.  *facepalm* I received a very nice email from the director of the Center- and that was more than enough for me.  I helped, and I got to play a game I love.

I used to play DnD all the time.  I played ToH as a player twice back in the day, and DM'ed it twice (counting this.)  Doing this game, and knowing it was a good cause really reminded me of how much fun the game was and is.  Also, it was a fitting way of saying "goodbye" to the town where I'd lived for over 16 years on and off- but that's another story

If I could find a group willing to play an old edition of the game up here in State College, I'd jump at it.  Alas, I fear it will not be. 

Still, I was able to help a little. 

Be well.