I posted a new post on my other blog a couple of days ago.
Here is an excerpt and a link to the full post:
It seems every generation has their wars; some are just more obvious than others.
I’ve been reading a biography of the poet Siegfried Sassoon and studying the British “War Poets” of the First World War. Stories of young men struggling with the realities of war and trying to reconcile them with the peaceful, conventional world they were fighting to preserve. Many of them were young men trying to reconcile their sexuality with the roles they were raised to play in a world that was fast disappearing.
In theory, my generation had no wars. We were too young for Vietnam and too old for the first Gulf War. I remember being in my early teens when the Vietnam War ended. I remember being outside as fireworks exploded and everyone tried to make merry over the fact the Paris Peace Accords had ended a war no one had really wanted by then. I remember my neighbor, whose son had safely survived the conflict, hugging me and saying: “I’m so glad you won’t have to go to war. You are safe. We can all get back to normal.”
More: Chapter 83: Comrades in Arms | My Southern Gothic Life.
New Blog Post up on my other blog….
And now, a trip back in time to Gay life in Peyton Place….
“I found me a hot lover friend!” My friend Gary screamed this out one night as we passed him on “The Block” in front of the Church on Main Street. He had ridden his bicycle down there and it was stashed, hanging partially out of the trunk of a Mercedes sedan. It was one o’clock in the morning and he was leaning out of the passenger window as he smiled and waived at his friends as he left “The Block”. We thought he must have been picked up by an “out of towner” that night or he would never have been allowed to be so obvious.
But strange things could happen on “The Block.” His new Lover Friend could have just been an infrequent visitor to the Block whose wife was out of town. The guy may have just had too much liquid courage to be cautious. Gary was justifiably proud of his achievement. It wasn’t often a boy of 18 like, like Gary, ended up in a Mercedes. Well, on second thought, it did happen more often than one might suppose.
MORE: Chapter 70: Lover Friends | My Southern Gothic Life.