The saga continues 1.2

Let’s see, where was I. My man moved back to his hometown. I was living alone in the North-end of town. This is the first time in my life that I was living alone and I hated it. I was heartbroken, and financially broke. I was whining to my x-man and he was telling me that the only reason we weren’t together is that he didn’t want to live in Columbus. I begged, pleaded, and used all the guilt I could throw. I was working as a keypuncher spending ½ of the day punching in addresses and the other ½ stuffing envelopes. I met some new people but they were so different. We did lunch, but that was about it.

I jumped back into my old crowd. Now the crowd had moved on having all flunked out of OSU. We were now following a local group around. I know there are those of you who remember the days when the band was live at the nightclubs and bars. There were no DJ spinners. There were men and women who actually played instruments and entertained the crowd. Of course, every girl there called dibs on one of the band members. There was the lead singer who always pulled the most attention. Then the guitar players and drummer pulled quite a crowd. But me, being the rebel, I went for the organ player. He was a quiet, nice guy. He wasn’t flamboyant. He wasn’t the looker of the crowd. But he was nice. However, he drew a few ladies also.

Also added to the mix was my brother. He had moved to the big city to live 100% off of me. He got a job as a dishwasher. My brother, up to this point, had existed solely to make me crazy. I left home so I wouldn’t kill him. As a child he was whiny and obnoxious. I didn’t treat him very good while growing up. But since I was the window to the world (my older sister was entrenched into our little town) he came to live with me.

So my routine was: get up in the morning and go to my disgusting boring job, come home and ½ of the time go to the bar and drink and dance. The other ½ of my evenings were spent whining to the x. My brother used my car to go to work in the evenings so I didn’t really see him I just picked up after him. Side issues were:

I was broke because I really could afford to live without a roommate. I remember many weeks eating nothing but macaroni and butter and many nights digging cigarette butts out of the trash for one more hit. As anyone addicted, I spent money on cigarettes before food.

I really didn’t have any joy for living. I was so lost without my x. If I saw a couple on the streets it would depress me for days. I had thoughts of eliminating all people who were in love. I really just wanted to die. Every day the sun came up pissed me off.

My little sister, have I mentioned her? She was born when I was 16 and she was my doll. I played with her like a doll, adored her. So 1 –2 weekends a month I went home and stayed with mom and dad. There I hooked up with my old high school friends who were still in town.

The OSU dropouts were in Columbus as I mentioned. One was married to a hometown boy. Their place was an open door and always a party. They did a lot of drugs, drugs that I was afraid of like acid. I got high and that was it except one night they convinced me to try mescaline (sp). I think I took ½ of one and made her hold my hand until I knew I wasn’t going to freak out. The other hometown girl, the one who introduced us to the pimp and drug dealer, was the one with whom I followed the band sometimes during the week and 1 – 2 weekends a month.

On the occasional weekend I visited the x in his hometown. Although his uncle (who was 8 years younger than him) told me he was in a serious relationship, he denied it and I chose to believe the x.

We’ll explore one issue at a time. The first one I will explore is my brother; the remaining in another post.

My brother was 4 ½ years younger than me. He was a certified genius. As a child he spent almost all of this time with his nose in a book. His 6th grade science teacher said that at 10 my brother knew more than he did. He was a walking encyclopedia, which he actually read cover to cover. He was, on the other hand a sad, unmotivated, whiny child. He didn’t fit in anywhere. Me being in the midst of my own angst of childhood didn’t give his situation much thought. I just knew that he was irritating. Interestingly, with all his natural intelligence he never finished High School. There were no gifted classed then, not that gifted classes in the 00’s helped my own genius child. He basically didn’t graduate because he was heavy and was uncomfortable in gym class. He was harassed by the teacher his and classmates. He was the first person in our family that didn’t graduate HS.

One memory is about him snitching on me. He was always crying to mom and telling on me. My mother, at this time with so many kids, was having a lady do our ironing for something like .05/piece. My job this particular day was to take the ironing to the lady. My brother, somehow, was along. I only agreed to take the laundry to get the car and go see my friends. I picked up my friends who promptly decided to throw some of the hangers out of the car while we were driving up a hill. They thought it was soooo funny. My brother started sobbing and crying. WTF?!? When we got home after delivering the laundry and quite a few less hangers he went running to mom, still sobbing. You see he was so scared of what my friends were going to do. They were crazy he thought. I got the typical lecture about how irresponsible I was, etc.

Another time I remember having to watch him for a couple of hours. My younger brother was there also but he was quiet and never a problem. My older brother started his emotional breakdown in front of my boyfriend. I actually threw him across the kitchen table. I know, it was cruel but he was soooo irritating. Any mom should have known better than to leave him with me. I so disliked him.

Back to the present (at least in this narrative). I was at a friends house in town and her brother came home and was telling us this delicious story about a kid in town who was gay (how disgusting is that). Something about him getting arrested for some lewd behavior. Then he says that it is (insert my brothers name). I went on the defensive immediately and said that that wasn’t true. He was just different and people picked on him for it. I mean, really, I hated this gossipy small town. I went home and told mom about it and about my outrage.

This was shortly before he came to live with me. He wasn’t so irritating by this time. He was, however, quite into drugs. We were having an adult relationship now and I found him quite funny and he was the only person with whom I let my hair down. He thought I was funny. Me? He is the only person, other than my kids, who has ever thought I was funny.

Ok, one night I was asleep in my apartment. He came home late (around 3 a.m.). He immediately turned up the stereo to blasting volume. I stumbled out to tell him to turn it down, damnit. Well what I was greeted with was he with another guy in a comprising position. I said, “Turn down that thing, damnit” and stumbled back to bed. The next day, during keying: Your name, 4356 South 5th Avenue, Chicago, IL 60604 I thought about what I saw. I wasn’t appalled really I wasn’t even really shocked. I just didn’t know how to handle the discussion that would have to happen. You see I wasn’t adverse to the idea, the facts. In the big city he would be okay. I was only defensive in our little, gossipy town. I remember that talk very vividly. I remember telling him that I, of all people, understood. After all I was attracted to men also so I could see his attraction. This is when I started frequenting “gay bars”. And even in the large city I worried about being accosted by police when entering and leaving the bars. This was only the mid-70’s. This became our little secret, my brother, my mother and I.

Sometime after that, probably within 6 months my brother left town. My mom took him to I-70 and dropped him off. He was heading to the City by the Bay, San Francisco, by way of his thumb. Mom didn’t tell me until after. I couldn’t believe that she did it. After all he was her baby. She as most mothers will, doted on him what with his vulnerability and all. She explained that he would never be happy here. He was determined to go west. All she could do is take him to the main thoroughfare, give him some money and pray. She didn’t have the money to give him to fly. No one in our family had been on an airplane (except Dad during WWII). He made it to San Francisco eventually, but not before having everything he owned stolen including his id. His life in San Francisco, while more tolerant wasn’t easy. He wasn’t inclined to work. All information about him was through my mother and his very occasional letters. I did, I believe it was in 1978, fly him home for Christmas to surprise mom. He was living with a bi-sexual woman (this gave my mom some encouragement, after all gayness was believed to be the mother’s fault). Mom was very happy to see him. The next time we saw him was when mom had her heart attack in 1980. Dad flew him home when it was evident that mom wasn’t going to pull through. We had a sister/brothers picture done and put it in mom’s room. He stayed with my dad, my younger brother and youngest sister for a while after that, until dad was forced to send him back to SF. After that we heard from him infrequently, and then not at all. I contacted the SF police. After 6 months I received a letter that my brother had surfaced and that he was informed of our interest in talking to him. He would have to initiate the contact as he was an adult and could make the decision as to whether he wanted to contact us. I was impressed that the police even contacted us, had even paid attention to my inquiry. He then called about 2 months later. Next time I saw him was when dad died and we flew him home for the funeral. We had another brother/sister picture done. He told us then that he was HIV positive. He wasn’t sick yet. I then took a union trip to San Jose in 1988 with a side trip to SF. He showed us around the city for 3 days until I went to San Jose for the conference. While at the conference I convinced another person to drive with me to SF for a drag show. My brother was working the sound system and lights. My very straight, companion for the evening said that he had one of the best times ever at any type of a show.

At this time in his life, my brother was doing much better. He had hooked up with an older man with many ties to the larger gay community. Gary (or Marlena) was the queen of the court with Simeon the king for the 25th silver anniversary of the Royal Court. I have a commemorative plate marking the event. It was the one thing I worried about when the step-daughter destroyed our bedroom in January while we were in Vegas. Damn the jewelry, damn the TV. It survived the incident intact.

Anyway, a couple of years later I received a call from Gary indicating that my brother was very ill. I convinced my older sister to go with me to SF. I tried to get my youngest brother to go also. His wife wouldn’t let him. I knew that he would regret it the rest of his life, and he does. In order to afford the trip we had to wait so many days for the discount airfare. My older sister was not as in tune to my brother’s life as I was. She was a prissy woman, concerned with appearances. I have never been as proud of her as I was that trip. She was absolutely gracious to everyone. However, by the time we arrived my brother had recovered from this spell of illness, one of many to come. We toured the city for 5 days and had a great time.

The next time Gary called me and asked me to come to SF was the last time I would see my brother alive. I went alone. My brother was bed ridden and Gary was having trouble working and running his bar and taking care of him. I went for one week, all the vacation time I had. His dementia was advanced and there were very few moments of lucid conversation. I spent almost an entire week in the apartment alone with him. I will never forget that week and will be ever grateful that I went. After I left Gary was forced to put him in Hospice. He died three weeks later.
But I skip ahead. After I recover from these memories I’ll drown in my days as a groupie! Woo Hoo.