Men of the Skull Chapter 49: Assisted

In some ways, this was a typical Saturday night fraternity party.  I don't know how many kegs Crow went through at a party, but, at Skull, we would finish 25-30 kegs on a given Thursday or Saturday night.  Crow had 2 taps, if memory serves.  We had three on a keg cooler behind the bar.

It's funny.  Beer swill on the bar and floor were a given.  You never wore good shoes, as the floor was really sticky with beer and cigarette butts.  Back then, people smoked.  It didn't matter as much because the smell in a basement bar was terrible anyway.  And the air outside was polluted as well, no matter where you went.  Clean air standards have REALLY helped with that!  (Damn liberals!) (That's sarcasm.)

Another thing about floor beer swill- if you fell into it, it left a stain.  That stain would NEVER come out- dirt, beer, ash, whatever else.  Most houses' party floors were tile, so they were easy to hose down and clean after a party.  But... they still smelled of stale beer.

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Chapter 49: Assisted

Early Sunday, February 21, 1987 Levine sentenced to 2 years for insider-trading scheme

            Virginia was drunk.  She was behind the bar at Crow while we played the usual Flip a Cup/ Three man games and it was only about one AM.  But she went to Lil Sister Happies before coming here, so she’d been drinking for maybe seven hours, and even she had her limits.  Tonight she wore her black Skullympics shirt which had her letters on the back.  Nothing fancy.

Remember this?

            It didn’t help that  the older alum standing next to her behind the bar kept giving her drinks, and made her “Three-man” (or “Three bitch” as he called her.)  I’m guessing he was in his thirties.  His dark hair was in full retreat from the top of his head, and he had a big beer gut.  He wore jeans and a white dress shirt with a big collar, and several gold chains.  Disco Duck!  He was definitely trying to get her drunk and fuck her.  I smiled- this should be fun to watch. 

            The idea that he might succeed never entered my mind.  Why should it?

            “Pour some shugah on meeeee!” blasted Def Leppard from the speakers.  Disco swayed to the song as he tried to flip the cup in front of him.  He failed twice, drank, and, smiling, passed the cup to Virginia.  She smiled and thanked him.  Rubbed the rim of the cup around in the beer swill on top of the bar for “traction” and flipped. 

            Plastic cups make a hollow pop when they land top down on the bar. 

            “Consume, dear!” she pointed her elbow at me.

            I tapped the cup on the bar and raised it over my head (current rules, aside from DDD) and drank.  The dice came to me and I rolled.  4 and 1:  Popsicle!  Disco was last to put his finger on his nose, so he drank.  Rolled again: 5 and 4: nothing I passed the dice to Virginia, who missed on her third flip, and passed the cup to me.  Someone down the bar scored with the other cup and shouted for Virginia to drink, which she did. 

            She rolled: 3 and 1.  She gave the “Three man” honor to Mandy, who was down the other side of the short bar from her. 

            And so it went.  Disco kept talking to her but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.  She said stuff back, but it was more about current events around Crow house.  He kept smiling and inching closer to her.

“An ain-gel’s smahl is what you sell.  You promise me heav-un, then put me through hell!” shouted Bon Jovi.

Sure enough, Disco eventually put his arm around her and tried to kiss her.

Virginia turned and kneed him right in the nuts.

“I said NO, ASSHOLE!” she shouted, a look of drunken fury in her eyes.

The room went silent except for the music.

“You give love a bad name!”

Then people began to laugh and the noise started up again.  Disco picked himself off the floor, angrily spurning offers of help.  His white shirt was covered with grey beer muck.

He stood and glared at Virginia who glared right back at him: tense, breathing heavily.  He looked like he was about to say something when two guys hustled him back through the open door in back of the bar.  I think he shouted something about “little sisters” but I couldn’t quite hear.  The opening chords of “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” blasting from the speaker next to me obscured everything.

Virginia turned to me and smiled.

“I love my brothers.  They watch out for us!”

            

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First Chapter

Rice The Other Night

I wrote this the other night.

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It's 00:22. I'm am dripping sweat and in tears. I had a little drink to finish a bottle of Jack, so I could repurpose it. To that effect, I put it (and an empty wine bottle) in the kitchen sink with a little soap and turned on the water, thinking I'd let them soak overnight. Fell asleep watching a documentary.

Woke up 20 min later to the sound of flowing water. The sink overflowed like crazy. I turned off the water. I emptied the drawers and cupboards. Scrubbed and dried them, including under the bottom drawer. Casualties: box of cereal, box of mashed potato flakes, box of rice. Those I put on the counter until I finished cleaning and mopping up the water.

At this point I'm exhausted, and sweating profusely. You see, I was running the dishwasher, so it was hot in there. I took off my tank top, and picked up the cereal box, trashed it; potatoes, trashed it; rice... the box fell apart in my hands.

Rice everywhere.

Rice anybody?

I burst into tears. Took a pic, then started cleaning.

With all the rice, etc, the trash can was full, so I pulled the bag, tied it, and opened the door to put it outside. Not even thinking that "hey stupid-You're topless!" Normally that wouldn't be a problem after midnight, but I opened the door Just as a police cruiser drove by. I dropped the bag and quickly closed the door.

I then put on my sweaty tank top, and took the bag to the dumpster.

So, the kitchen drawers and counter are spotless. The floor is swept and mopped, though there may be a stray kernel of rice here and there. I'm sitting on the couch, after cleaning for over an hour. I feel so f#*;king stupid and weak, and I can't stop crying.

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I was ok the following morning after a few hours of sleep.  Days later, despite multiple sweepings, we're still stepping on rice.

Days later, I can laugh at it.  If I could laugh.  In any case, it's a rice story.

Passing Through: a short story

I was driving through Lancaster County, when I saw a bar.  When I did, I stopped and took pictures.  This story popped into my head.  I dictated it speech-to-text, and revised it a little, and here it is.

If you can think of a better title, I'm listening.  The picture in the story, is the place in question.

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“So anyway, yeah, this here place been here some a couple hundred years or something I think. Used to be a railway station when the train come through here.  But then the Factory closed down, and when the Factory close down, the train stop coming in. So the bar, it stuck around as couple rooms upstairs and stuff.  After all, ain’t no other place to drink in town nowdays.  ‘Specially when it snowin’ like it is now.

This place here used to be your run by a guy named Tank. I ain't his rightful name of course, but we all call him that cuz he was the fullback on the local high school football team.  Back when he was a kid, his daddy own this place, he did all right with this place, so Tank and he got his self one of them scholarships to State on account a’ being such a good football player.  Now Tank and me, we graduated high school together.  Tank, he weren’t no good student no-how.  Neither was I, so I start working for his daddy in this kitchen here.  So Tank, he flunks out of school, so he join the Army, and he went to Vietnam.  So he go over there and he came back, and he got an injury to his leg and his foot.

So anyway, I don't recall seeing you around here.  You new in town or something, Miss?”

“No I'm just passing through, and I thought I'd stop for a drink.  It’s snowing very hard.”

“Well, you dressed kind of like one of the locals, so that's why I thought such you know, what with them tight jeans and that, what's that on your shirt? That’s what, a Grateful Dead skull thing, or something?”

“Yes, that's what it is”

Grateful Dead "steal your face"

“So yeah I figured it was.  Well, if you don't mind me saying so, young lady, you know it's kind of tight too, and you know some of the fellers ‘round here, they might get the wrong idea and such, you know.  What with you being so, um, busty an’ all.   I'm just saying.”

“Oh, don't worry about me- I can take care of myself.  Besides, last I checked, it was just you and I here.”

“So anyway, as I was saying, oh what are you drinking again? Okay yeah, I remember. I'll get you one on the house.  Tell you what, I’ll leave the bottle of Jack here on the bar, and you refill when you’re ready.  So this here place it been around long time- since the Civil War.  Tank’s dad, well he owned it and Tank, he come back from Vietnam, and he has his foot.  Now some folks they say he did it himself in order to try to get out of the fight, but he got a Purple Heart and stuff, but you know how rumors get started.  A lot of people, they jealous of Tank. So his daddy he left him this building, and Tank, he run it. Tank was running it when the Factory closed, and then when the railroad stop coming through. Tank he manage to keep this place going somehow, I don't know.   Hold on, gonna take me a Tums.  Not feelin’ right.

You know, your shirt reminds me of a story.  So this is about who I don't know 20 years ago at this point I think. I'm here one day cuz Tank, he let me eat at the bar, since I still was cook here.   It was a hot summer day, and it's me and Tank and I'm sitting out here at the bar because no customers and, then walk this business looking guy and he had a crew cut it wearing a short-sleeve shirt and a black bow tie what looked kinda loose.  He look like he was sweating and such, and he come in here. With that tie, it almost looked like his head was a floating above his shoulders.  Heh.

Now Tank, he decorated this place with all his football trophies and all these pictures of the local high school and such, and he also had some, you know, some of this stuff from State.  And basically the locals start to call it the Tank Museum, you know kind of like where you go and see Tanks and stuff except it was Tank, and not… but anyway, in come just guy and he come in sit down.  

Tank says “what you have mister?” The guy he says ‘I'm just passing through and thought I'd stop for a drink.  Jack neat, please.’  Tank, he says ‘Long Way to the city,’ gets him a beer, and looks at the guy funny.  Tank says ‘have I seen you before, mister?’ Guy says he been to town here now and again, but the last time was some years ago.  ‘You in town for business?’  Guys says ‘No, well actually yeah, but I'm just stopping by.’ He got to pick up a couple a things, he said.

Anyway about a couple years back, Tank lost his wife Delores. I think her name was Dolores. Tank, he got a little heavy on account of he couldn't exercise no more, since you know he got wounded in the foot.  So Delores, she been going behind his back with some guy named Dutch.   Dutch live a couple town over, and he so Tank was pretty upset with this, but he don't show it much.  I knew it on account I just know Tank, seeing how we went to school together.  You know this Dutch guy used to come here all the time.  That's how we met Dolores, since she worked here too.  But Dutch he ain't been in here since he took the Tanks wife.

You sure you don't want something to eat?  Jack on an empty stomach ain’t good.  Okay.  Anyway, so this Dutch guy he never come in.  Miss, you sure don’t want food?” 

 “No I'm just passing through and I thought I'd stop for a drink...”

So Dutch come that and Dutch says to Tank ‘I hear you've been talking to a bad about me around here.’  Tank says “What do you expect you steal my wife’ and Dutch says ‘That's cuz you can't  even perform like a man anymore’ and Tank says to him he says ‘Well, I'm more man you ever be’ and he pulls up the shotgun he kept behind the bar, but Dutch, he had a gun’ too.

I don't know what to do cuz I'm scared out of my mind, and this city guy, he's just sitting there minding his business, watching the two with a smile on his face!   So next thing I know the guns go off, both of them, and now they're both… Tank he slumps back behind the bar, and the Dutch guy he had his chest blown off by the shotgun, and he just get blown back all the way to the wall. That wall right there where you see that picture.  Yeah I put that picture there to cover up the hole made by the rest of the shot.  Huh, is it hot in here, or is it just me?  I’m sweatin’ like a pig.

So any such the City guy, he sit there like nothing happened and I say ‘you see that?’ and he said ‘yep, I guess this is my pickup. He puts the beer down on the bar and he says ‘thank you kindly,’ closes his eyes for a couple a seconds, then opens them again.  He says ‘I think you better call the police, cuz I got what I come to pick up,’ and I thought this was pretty weird, but then the guy I swear on Christ Jesus that this guy, I thought for a second his face turned into a skull! I wasn't even drunk or nothin!’ So this guy, he says ‘I see you sometime, but you might not know its me.’

Now the folks around here, I tell them this story, and they're like ‘oh, there is old Benny, he exaggerating again’ so on account it’s so weird a story. Now, Tank he buried in a churchyard about a mile down the road.  So Tank, he had a will, and he goes and wills the place to me, on account a he got no kids or wife.  I been runnin’ it since.

Dutch, I don't know what happened with him, cuz Dolores, she died a year ago.  So anyway, so that's the story so where you say you’re goin’, young lady? Wow, My chest feel funny.” Oh wait, you just passin’ through and stuff, you said that.” 

“No, I'm just here to pick something up.”   

Men of the Skull Chapter 48: Dream Dream

I know that we all have reoccuring dreams, whether we remember them or not.  I had this dream countless times in college and just after.  I'm guessing I was afraid that I was sliding into alcoholism.  Well, I was in a way- I was self-destructive and hoping to die before anyone learned my "dark secret."

I kept drinking heavily until 2012, when I was arrested for DUI.  I realized how lucky I was not to have hurt anyone all those years, and cut back considerably.  I learned later that many people considered me "a drunk."  They weren't wrong.

I still have reoccuring dreams.  Most of them center around a grotesque version of Penn State, which is maybe ten times larger and the buildings are cramped together on the outer parts of campus, like in a dystopian movie.  I know this "campus" so well, that I can even diagram it in waking hours.  In those dreams, there is always a class I haven't attended, work I haven't done, or somewhere I need to be.  My fraternity house is also much bigger, and populated by not just the guys who were there when I was (still at that age) but many others I don't know.  And all of them hate me.

Yes, I know Freud would have a field day with me.

So now the into is longer than the chapter.  Go figure.


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Chapter 48: Dream Dream

Monday, February 16, 1987 US nearly blundered at summit, report says

            It happens so many times.  The reoccurring dream.

The sky is a blank white, and the sound of the waves is a little strange.  The pale yellow foaming ocean swells push me up and down and I’m so tired I can’t swim.  It is a sea of beer.  I’m so tired.  As I sink, my lungs fill with beer.  I can taste it’s slightly bitter flavor as I drown.  Drown in a sea of cheap yellow beer.

And as I drown…

I’m smiling.

Collegian, Feb 16, 1987.  I did the guy a favor and redacted his last name.  I hope he's grown up since.

Next Chapter

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First Chapter

Five Years Living Truth

Anniversaries should be marked, says our culture.  I agree.  I mark them almost religiously.  I guess I'm overly nostalgic.  Or foolish.

In any case, this past week, I marked two anniversaries, but I haven't felt much like celebrating.  The Darkness is still upon me, and added to that was horrible news about a friend. 

March 25 marked five years since I started living my Truth full time.  No more him- only Her.  And today, March 31, marks five years since I started work at the bookstore as a woman.

I won't bore you, dear reader, with a summary of those five years.  It's all here on this blog anyway.

I can't believe I've survived this long.  I really can't.  I thought for sure that either I would've been murdered or done it myself by now.  Like most things as I age, it seems like the blink of an eye, yet was agonizingly long.  I am a FAR different person than I was when I first announced my Truth to the world. 

It's funny- the first 24 hours went fairly well.  I received a lot of support.  More than I expected actually.  I took screen shots of it all before I deleted my "male" account.  I sometimes look at it when I'm down.  I try not to think about how many of the people pledging support are no longer in my life.  For a change, I try to think about just that moment in time.

That moment in time happened around 10:50 PM the night before.  My computer was set up on a table in the living room in M's house.  There was a fire in the fireplace.  I forget what was on TV.  In the room were my future roomie/bestie Linda; and Kevin, who also lived there.  I typed my announcement in Word, based upon my "coming out letter." I checked it for spelling and grammar, copied it to facialbook, took a deep breath, and hit "enter."  I told Linda and Kevin "that's it.  It's done."  They congratulated me.  I then stood up and grabbed a cider from the fridge.  Before I returned, the first reactions started coming.

First Reactions

Before I sent that, I had to hide my Truth.  There were places I went as Him, and other places as Her.  For example, I went to Rock Bottom (bar) as Him, and McKenzies (bar) as Sophie.  Same with other places.  I never went out as Sophie without makeup, as I was afraid of being outed. 

It was worse before I told my Wife so long ago.  I jumped at shadows.

But, here's the thing (and I tell this to people just beginning to step out for the first time as their True selves:) If people aren't looking for you, they won't see you.  No one was looking for Lance, especially not Lance in a dress and makeup.  They may spot me as a "guy in a dress" but they wouldn't realize it was me.  Proof- that first night I went out on Halloween 2008, before I spoke to anyone, I walked around the book store.  One of my co-workers clocked me as cross-dressed, but didn't know it was me until I spoke to her. 

March 25, 2014  At the Keystone Conference

But back then, I didn't realize that.

Five years ago, I no longer worried about that.  I now jump at different shadows- wondering if someone is waiting to hurt/kill me for living my Truth. 

Bestselling author and Professor Jennifer Finney Boylan has said that the biggest change in Transition is NOT gender- it's going from "Having a massive secret" to "no longer having a massive secret."  She's absolutely right.  I can't describe that feeling of relief- of no longer having to hide.  I was finally Free.  For a few days, I was absolutely giddy! 

Reality set in on March 31st, 2014.  That was my first day of work at the book store.  Now, I'd been there the day before with Linda, so people could see me and get over the whole "hey- he's dressed like a woman" thing.  I also went to take the edge off of my fear. 

March 31, 2014- First day!

I arrived early, and sat in my car.  I was so scared!  The only fear I could compare it to was walking out the hotel door dressed as a woman the first time.  Or waiting to read my "Coming Out" letter to management.  As I often say, I used to run into burning buildings- but THIS was true fear.

It was raining that day.  I took a deep breath, opened the car door, then walked across the parking lot and into the store. 

I was so happy with what I saw!  Management had posted my "Coming out letter" along with informational materials I'd provided.  And on that display was a post it.

I found out later that it was written by my coworker Dani, who has been and continues to be one of my staunchest supporters.

I wrote about that day HERE.  I'll just quote one bit here:

About three hours into the shift, I stopped dead in my tracks and looked down at myself.  My name tag said "Sophie."  I wasn't wearing a compression shirt, so my breasts stood out proudly.  I was at work as ME.  I thought to myself "this is really happening.  This isn't a dream.  I'm here at work as a woman!"  And I couldn't wipe the smile from my face. 

That was a magical moment. 

Oh, the shirt I wore that day?  I haven't worn it since.  No real reason except that my breasts have gotten so much bigger that it no longer fits!  I still have it though.

Things wouldn't always be so good there.  I was misgendered often by customers, and occasionally by staff.  I was let go from the bookstore on February 13, 2018, along with 2800 others. 

Now it's five years on.  How do I feel?  Well, on the 25th, my dear friends Debbie, Sam, Katie, and my bestie Linda took me out to dinner to celebrate the occasion.  They gave me a beautiful necklace (which was dripping wet because I immediately knocked over a water glass when I sat down.)  I felt... at peace.  I felt lucky that some people think enough of me to do that. 

March 25, 2019

Aside from that?

Well, it's been a hard week, especially the past couple of days.  I won't go into detail, as it isn't pertinent to this topic. 

I look back to the person I was before, and I see a whole different person.  I see an a$$hole, who was in so much Pain, and filled with anger.  In many ways, I am still that person.  I like to think that I kept the best parts of him while shedding that skin.  I still like the same things, listen to the same music...

I'm often asked if I am Happy.  I always answer "No. But I'm at peace."


I guess that's enough.

With Internet Sensation Linda Lewis, March 25, 2019

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Thank you to all of you who have followed this blog through the years- old veterans, and new readers alike.  I really appreciate every one of you.  Even you, Pat!  ;)

(And I love comments.  Just sayin'...)

Men of the Skull Chapter 47: Crow Formal

At this point, I was still very unsure of what I did.  Yes, I was dating Virginia, but I would've preferred Judy.

Here is yet another occasion that age and Transition has given me insight.  I was desperate for affection.  Where many of my fraternity brothers would've not cared about what She thought, and still pursued both women (youth and cockiness,) I couldn't comprehend that frame of mind- at all.  I still can't.

I couldn't admit that weakness to anyone, especially myself.  I felt that unless I had a girlfriend, that made me less of a guy.  Again, I had no idea what Manhood meant, only what I saw.  Frankly, the examples I'd seen of manhood by that point weren't good ones.

So, am I saying that "neediness" is a feminine attribute? Absolutely not.  However, I now recognize that having a partner is not the measure of a man... or a woman.

Did I mention I was young and stupid?

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Chapter 47: Crow Formal

Friday, February 13, 1987 Iran panel probes for cover up

            There was no doubt that I was going to Virginia’s Crow formal.  She wanted it to be like a “grand revealing” so that everyone would know we were dating.  This left me with a problem: telling Judy.  How do you tell someone something you don’t want them to know?  Still, I wanted her to find out from me, not Virginia or by just “seeing us.”

            I asked Virginia not to tell her- let it be a surprise.  After all, Virginia was still supposedly dating Chuck.

            Fuck.  How did I get into this?

            So Judy and I went to the library to study and do research for papers.  She was in a foul mood.  Had Virginia told her?

We were walking back through clear freezing night.  The path was lit by the full moon reflecting off the snow and her pale skin.  I finally summoned the guts to tell her. 

“Judy, I have to, um, tell you something.”

“More good news” she said sullenly.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.  Tell me.  Please.”

“I’m going to your formal with Virginia.”

“That’s good.”

“We’re kinda dating now.”

Judy’s expression didn’t change.

“Oh,” she said.  “I’m happy for you both.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?  You have a girlfriend.  That is what you’ve wanted.  Congratulations!”

“But you and I…”

“What about us?  All you’ve done is break promise after promise to me,” she said.

“What promise did I break this time?”

She paused, looked at me a moment, then kept walking.

“Nothing.  I hope you are happy together,” she said.

“You told me many times that I should date her!”

“I didn’t think you actually would!  Either way, it’s none of my business,” she said.

We walked in silence for a bit, our feet crunching on the occasional ice patch.

“Is Rich coming up?”  I asked.

“Yes,” she said, looking at her feet.

Was she crying?  Couldn’t be.

Collegian  February 13, 1987

Saturday, February 14, 1987 Valentines Day Broker admits to divulging inside information

           

            I met Virginia at their apartment around seven.  She was dressed in a slinky, curve hugging blue dress that showed lots of cleavage.  The bare shoulders made her neck look extremely long, especially with her short hair.  Her face was lightly made up, but she looked so different because she never wore makeup.  She was dressed to show off.  Me?  I wore my old polyester gray suit with a new red paisley tie.  (Paisley was the stylish thing to wear at the time.)

            As Judy and Rich had already left before I arrived, I wanted to fuck Virginia immediately.  After all, that’s why I signed up for this and hurt Judy.

            “No, this thing is a bitch to put on.  You’ll have to wait,” she said, then kissed me while caressing my crotch.

            I then helped her with her garnet colored Crow jacket, which seemed so out of place, but let’s face facts- it was fucking freezing outside.

            The formal itself was typical.  The Crows set up tables in the living room and we had catered food- chicken cordon bleu.  The open bar was at the front of the house, where they normally set up the DJ stuff.  People were pouring incredibly strong drinks for themselves.  I got beer and wine for Virginia and I.  We sat with Kathy, a few other little sisters and their dates.  Judy and Rich were a couple tables over but facing us.  Judy wore an elegant black dress with long sleeves.  It was tight in all the right places.  She looked beautiful. 

            Judy had yet to master the skill of pretending she was having a good time.  It looked like she and Rich were having a spat.

            “Judy keeps staring at us,” Virginia whispered in my ear before giving it a nibble.

            I noticed.  I wonder why?  Maybe your dress?”

            “The little bitch is probably jealous that I’m here with you.”

            “I doubt that,” I said.

            “I don’t.  She and Rich have been fighting all day.  She didn’t want to come tonight, but since he drove all the way here, he finally talked her into it.”

            “That doesn’t mean it’s because of me.”

            “It is.  I know,” Virginia said.

            Shit.

           

            Every time I stood up, be it to get drinks (several times I offered Judy and Rich a drink, and was politely refused), going to the john, whatever, Crows were asking if Virginia and I were a couple.  It felt really weird to say ‘yes,’ but kinda comforting all the same.  I mean, no one could argue that she looked absolutely beautiful that night.  I was a lucky guy- I was told so many times.  So why did I keep looking over at Judy?

                                                                        Collegian  February 13, 1987

         Later that night, I was leaning on the crowded Crow bar, my back against the one wall- my “usual” spot.  Virginia was away taking a leak in the ladies room.  I was enjoying the music- waiting for the cup of flipping to come, hic, come to me.  Def Leppard- good and loud.

I gotta feel it in my blood
Whoa-oh
I need your touch don't need your love
Whoa-oh
And I want, and I need, and I lust
Animal
And I want, and I need, and I lust
Animal

            Guy pushes himself in next to me.  Seen him before- he’s a brother here.  Think his nickname is Dildo or something.  Italian with thick black hair slicked straight back, unibrow, maybe five eight.  Hear he says he’s a black belt or something. 

            “So have you explored it yet?” he asks me.

            “Explored what?”  I leave off the customary “Your mom?”

            “Virginia’s vagina, man!”  He starts to sing “Vah-ginia’s Vah-gina! Vah-ginia’s Vah-gina! Vah-ginia’s Vah-gina!”  Guessing that this may be a fraternity song.

            “That’s none of your fucking biz-business,” I said, turning toward him.

            “Oh come on!  Almost everyone here has.  She’s a little sister after all.”

            Felt ballsy.  “Yeah she mentioned fucking some guys who couldn’t satisfy her.  Figured they were Crows.  Birds have small dicks.  She needed a real man like me to do the job.”

            “Fuckin’ asshole” he started to get all angry.

            “Hey, I’m a fuckin’ guest in your house.  You wanna start something, I’ll be happy to hurt you, but remember, I’m a Skull.  If you guys pile on me, can you handle all of Skull comin’ over, knockin’ on your door? Huh?  Can you?  I don’t think so.”

            He glared at me for a second, probably doing math in his head.   Then he turned and looked down the bar.

            “Hey people!  This fuckin’ Skull says he can out drink us all!” he yells.

            Some people shout abuse.  Others don’t care.  Doesn’t matter.  The avalanche begins.  Every hit, and I hear “Skull!  Drink!”  “Skull!  Drink!”  “Skull!  Drink!”

            Virginia comes back from the pisser (that took a fucking long time!).  “Skull!  Drink!”

            By then I had two full beers in front of me that needed emptying.  “Skull!  Drink!”  “Skull!  Drink!”  “Skull!  Drink!”

            “What happened?”  Virginia said, laughing.

            “Dildo lied.  I’m pay-paying the price.”

            “What?” she said.

            “Skull!  Drink!”  “Skull!  Drink!”  “Skull!  Drink!” “Skull!  Drink!”

            “Skull!  CHUG!”  Wondered how long it would take to hit one face up.

            I breathed heavy, and chugged one down.  Shook my head.  Don’t puke.  Not in front of them anyway.  Don’t puke!

            “Golden chair!”  I shouted as I headed to the bathroom.  (In case you forgot, Golden Chair means no one can give you drinks while you’re gone.) 

            Upstairs.  Stood in line.  Long piss in the sink.  Puke?  Nah.  Not now.  Rinse hands in other sink.

            Out of bathroom.  Virginia waiting.  She smiled. 

            “I found out what’s up.  I told the bar that Dildo lied and he’s getting hammered now.  Wanna go down and play some more?”

            “Vah-ginia’s Vah-gina!  Vah-ginia’s Vah-gina!  Vah-ginia’s Vah-gina!" played in my head.

            “No.  Let’s go to my place.  Play there.”

            She smiled wider.  “Ok!  I just wanna say good bye to Kathy.”

            Sat on a window ledge.  Turned and promptly puked out the open window.  Hope no one was down there.  Should say goodbye to Judy…

            Virginia came back.  Walked to my place.

            Vah-ginia’s Vah-gina.

Sleep.

           

 Next Chapter

Last Chapter

First Chapter

Sleep Well Jeanine

My friend Dr. Jeanine Ruhsam died the other day.  She was an avid skier, and just finished a run on her favorite slope, when she collapsed.  Lifesaving efforts proved ineffective, and she was declared dead at a nearby hospital.

I met Jeanine in January 2009, on my second might out as Sophie.  She’d come to Angela’s Laptop Lounge at Shangrila to spread the word about a brand new Transgender conference.  She was tall, thin, stylish, and well spoken.  And I was really new and taking my first steps into a new world.  Frankly, I was scared as hell, and she was so well put together, I was intimidated.  However, she took time to speak with me, and welcomed me to the community.  We spoke briefly that night.  I admired her drive and spirit.  I bought her a drink.

Jeanine, Keystone Conference 2016

Jeanine was president of a Harrisburg based organization called Trans Central, and they’d organized the Keystone Conference.    At that first Keystone Conference, there I sat with maybe 80 other attendees, listening while Jeanine spoke to us as peers- as family.  I was so scared when I arrived, yet by this time, I'd found my courage.  (Donna Rose was the Keynote speaker- that was the first time I met her.)

She spoke about beginnings- about how every journey has one, and that many in the small dining room (only one of the three available- now the conference packs all three) were just beginning our journeys.  I was one of them.  She also spoke about Community.  How all of us were part of something larger- that everyone here Understood what we all felt.  Some would call that socialistic, but it was True.  For many of us, me included, it was what we needed to hear.  I'd grown up thinking I was alone: a freak.

I never forgot what she said, or how she made me feel.

The person who checked into that hotel that week, was not the same person who checked out.  That's because of the conference, yes, but mostly because of what Jeanine said.

I saw Jeanine occasionally over the years, usually at conferences.  She was at SCC in 2013, and we talked a bit about my situation at the time.  She encouraged me to persevere.  Essentially, it was a pep talk.  I really don't remember much about it, as I was in a haze of Pain and confusion, but I remember she knew about my situation, and took the time to sit down with me and talk.

With Jeanine, Vanity Club dinner, SCC 2013

Eventually, she earned her PhD in American Studies from Penn State, and she encouraged me to continue my education.  At that time, I was working for Penn State Great Valley, and was deep into planning my "coming out."  Jeanine drove over an hour down to GV, and we spent hours determining what a transitioning Penn State employee would need/want from the University.  PSU didn't have a plan in place, so she was developing one.  We spoke often during that time- planning, negotiating... laughing.  As it happened, days before I was going to sit down with my supervisor at PSU about transition, I was promoted at the book store, so Dr. F wasn't told.  Instead, I focused on my transition plan there.  However, I knew that Penn State now had a transition plan for Transgender employees, and they had it because of Jeanine.

She also twice served as president of Vanity Club, which is the transgender service sorority.  Her tenure was before my time, but those who were there remember her service fondly.

With Jeanine at the first Keystone Conference, 2009

Jeanine had so many friends- some of whom knew her for decades.  They obviously knew her FAR better than I.  In the end, she was like a friend and coworker to me, having worked as we did on that policy. 

But Jeanine made me feel Included.  She made me feel like I Mattered.  That is a LOT.  I'll never forget that she was there when I needed her to be.  And she was there for so many others as well.

Rest well, Jeanine.  May the four winds blow you safely home.

Men of the Skull Chapter 46: Typical Day Spring Semester 1987

Not every day ay PSU was a party- no far from it.  Those who didn't learn to balance fun with work usually flunked out after first semester.

What made the experience of college was the day to day routine: classes, homework, sports/activities/clubs, and the people you cared about.

Many things have changed at PSU since i graduated, but that hasn't.

This was my typical day then.  It probably wasn't so different from other college alumni.

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

Chapter 46: Typical Day Spring Semester 1987

Wednesday, February 4, 1987 Flier says he briefed North on arms drop

            Weather in State College is predictable.  Rain, rain, rain.  There were two seasons- the rainy season, and the season in which no one was around (summer).  This held true especially during the winter.  White gray, brown, white.  Sky, everything else, snow.  The world was a dull slushy icy cold mess.  And we all went to class.  Uphill.  Both ways (really!)  Tons of books!  Oh sorry.  Got carried away.  In any case, the all consuming grayness made a sunny day almost a cause for celebration.  It was always bitter cold.  Go figure- we were in the mountains.

            Of course the worst part was that all the girls were wrapped up in so many layers that they looked like Randy from “A Christmas Story”- amorphous blobs of cold resistant textiles.  No shape, no curves, no nothing!

            So it was in this cold grey world that all of us went to class, worked, studied, fucked, drank, whatever.  Night fell so quickly, and often it was so cold no one wanted to go out.  Problem- we’re in the middle of nowhere.  If you’re under 21, which I was then, and broke, what is there to do?  Well, go to sporting events.  There was wrestling, basketball, volleyball, and they were all free.  Maybe that’s one of the reasons Penn Staters are such fanatics- we were all attending all of the events!

Collegian, Feb 4, 1987

            Of course some nights there were parties during the week, but I had to balance all that out as I didn’t want a repeat of the last semester’s grades.  Add to that, I now had Virginia, so I no longer had to worry about going out to meet people.  (Yeah, like I bothered anyway since meeting Judy!)

            Anyway a typical day went like this:  I woke up, went to classes straight until 2.  I had a couple of hours for lunch, which I ate at the house.  Sometimes, I’d see Virginia, sometimes not.  Then I would go to my afternoon classes.  This semester was different, in that Tuesday I had off, while Thursday I had student teaching all day.  So on Thursday, I’d wake up incredibly early, get dressed and walk all the way across campus to Chambers building for my ride to my class.  I’d get back around five-ish, have dinner at the house, homework and nap until party time. 

Am I the only one who misses this place?

            Tuesdays I had off, so I’d sleep in, recover from my hangover and do homework, usually at the library.

            Many afternoons, I’d have the apartment to myself.  I’d put on one of Bob Dylan’s “Biograph” tapes and just relax. 

“My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet,
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.”

            Sometimes Virginia would show up and listen with me, lying on the couch together.  She called them “Dylan chills.”  I learned a lot about a lot, if that makes sense, trying to interpret what the man was saying.

“I seen a lot of women
But she never escaped my mind, and I just grew
Tangled up in blue.”

            Life at the house was the same.  I’d walk the halls, smell the pot, and hear the Grateful Dead.  I ate lunch and dinner there, and sometimes people talked to me, other times they didn’t.  But as time passed, more did.

           

 Next Chapter

Last Chapter

First Chapter

Going Home for Further Studies

So something major happened this past month.  I thought I posted about it here, but I guess I didn't.  (I know I did on TG Forum.)  Seems my projects blend these days.

In any case, I mentioned previously that I'd applied to my alma mater, Penn State, for PhD study.

A little background for those new to this blog- I started college at Drexel University in 1984.  I was a Civil Engineering major, because I wanted to make a lot of money, and I chose a city school because I grew up in a tiny, dying foundry town.  I wanted the Bright Lights and Experience that the city implied.

Well, I hated it.  I hated Drexel; I hated the studies; and I HATED the city.  The only good experiences I had were the people I met, like my roomie "Ripper" Rob Young.  (I wonder what happened to him.)  I also pledged a fraternity.  In May 1985, I was initiated as a brother of Phi Kappa Sigma.

In any case, I hated Drexel SO much that I decided to transfer out.  Long story short (too late,) I transferred to Penn State Main campus, arriving in State College in August 1986.  It was the biggest decision in my life up to that point (that anyone knew.)  It was also one of the best.

With an Old Friend, Feb 2019

Oh, if you didn't know, I wrote a book about my Penn State experience called Men of the Skull, which I serialized some of here in the blog.  Find the first chapter HERE.

With the exception of breaks and Summer 1987, I lived at Penn State from August 1986 to December 1988, when I left for Student Teaching.  I graduated in May 1989, in the midst of deep depression.  So, subtracting that summer I wasn't there, I was at PSU for two whole years.  Not much in the scheme of things, really.

So why do I consider it "Home?"  Happy Valley is my Happy Place.  It's not like I had the four years many people have there.  In any case, like many alumni, I visit as often as I can.  Over the years, so much has changed, except one constant- the students are mostly between 17 and 22 years old.

When I was an undergrad, I was a person whose life was spinning out of control.  I buried my Truth- that I was really female, and did my best to be the male that I appeared on the outside.  I drank. I fought.  My fraternity brothers at Penn State sensed I was different, and I was- they were the Popular guys.  They were the creme de la creme of their high schools: athletes, rich kids... the guys who got any woman they wanted.  And then there was me: skinny, awkward, depressed, and hiding a Dark Secret.  Oh, and Initiated.  I was a transfer Brother, and many of them to this day never let me forget it.  This is one of the main topics of my book.

I received my Masters degree in Instructional Design from Penn State Great Valley in 2007, and worked there for a time.

This August, Thirty Three years after I first arrived in State College, I will return to start my PhD studies. 

Yes, I was accepted.

There are details yet to be ironed out, such as financial aid, place to live, etc.  My roomie/bestie will be moving with me.  For her, it's the opportunity to start fresh- full time as Linda. 

There are differences this time around. 

1) I want to live away from the undergrads.  I am too old to go to parties ("Who is that creepy old person?  Your grandmother?") and I want quiet in which to study.  Therefore, I'll be living away from downtown State College.  Also, I rarely drink any more. 

2) I am not the 19 year old who first moved there.  I am 52, and will turn 53 soon after starting.  I have been around the world.  I've learned so much, and know that I'll never stop learning.  Also, I know my weaknesses and failures.

3) The biggest difference: I am no longer hiding my Truth.  The person who will work for that degree is the woman I was born to be (almost.)  No more pretending and lying to everyone, especially myself. 

Does this mean I now won't visit my fraternity house?  Of course I will.  They hold events for alumni, and I'll attend those. 

In any case, I'll be going Home.  It will take at least 5 years to complete the degree.  Wife and daughter said they'd visit twice a month. 

How does this make me feel?  I don't feel anything yet.  I don't think it'll hit me until all the furniture and boxes are in the new place, and I'm settling in.

Still... Penn State...

Finally.

Bit of a Lull

Hi.

Sorry I haven't posted lately.

Haven't felt up to it.  Or anything.

Hopefully soon.

Darkness sucks.

Audition the Other day