Re: I'm comming out..
I suppose I might as well "come out" to. Everyone is having such a good time at, what the heck?<br />Seventy some odd posts about a group of people that in the vast majority, mind their own business and want to be left alone.<br /><br />My first encounter with a homosexual was when I was 3 yrs. old. He was my only sibling. At that time and in the years that were to follow his and my upbringing were identical. Our environment included my father and mother, my brother and I at the same nightly dinner table. In all my 49 years of comtemplation our upbringing was nearly perfect. I'm truly blessed with the memories of my childhood.<br /><br />My younger brother and I shared a bedroom. His bed and "stuff" was on his side and mine was well on my side of "the line" we guarded constantly. Early on, and I mean well before the concept of sex was even an understandable concept to us, things were different. And not subtle differences either.<br />On my side of the bedroom I had Revelle plastic models and snake skins. Later in years my Boy Scout awards, scuba gear, fishing poles and hunting gear.<br />On his side would be books of tropical plants and animals. That later would be meticulously decorated with knic-knacs and with fine 35mm pictures taken by him of those same tropical plants and animals.<br /><br />I was the kid that was handing my dad wrenches. My brother was a loner, playing by himself. You could usually locate him over by his beloved peacocks or behind the garage where he made an eloborate "Lost In Space" ships control panel. That had pictures drawn of scenes from the show on the back wall in colored chalk.<br /><br />We grew up living on a lake north of Tampa. I was barefoot skiing by 10 years old, yet my brother only tried it a time or two and could care less. Same with sports, any kind. I excelled in swimming, skiing, Scouting, hunting and fishing, my horses. If it took competition, an ego, or just plain testosterone, my brother had no part in it.<br /><br />At the age of 11-12 or so, it came to me through an incident. I was a new owner of a 22 rifle passed to me by dad. It was my first hunting trip out in a nearby grove. I shot two Cottontail's. Before I made it to the house my brother, as usual, was behind the garage playing with his imaginary space show. I was going to proudly show off my kill to my brother. I laughed at him real hard and chased him with the two dead rabbits, all the while him screaming, crying as hard as I've ever witnessed before. Throughout the years, if it was compassion, reserve, style, meekness..........all the things I or my friends had no interest in, were part of his life. <br />And you have to understand, this was at age 4,8, 13 or 20.<br /><br />Yeah, I busted a head or two. At 14, I was 175 pounds or so. My brother was as skinny as a rail, at age 14 he'd make 90 pounds. And at 14 my brother didn't have any sexual feelings at all. He'd be mimicking some exotic bird call or painting a picture of some South American Orchid. Yet through most of my brothers years in school he was the kid that got constantly got picked on. Branded early as the fa..ggot, qu..eer, on and on. It followed him grade to grade, school to school.<br />Shoot, I even kicked his butt a time or two because I'd have to make room in my day to meet my brother at the school bus stop. However, if it weren't for the respect my brother had from my own group of friends he'd have it a lot worse. They being older, they'd do their share protecting him. Because they had come to appreciate the things my brother could do, the knowledge of exotic flowers, art in beautiful drawings and pictures. Things we were inept in.<br /><br />Around 15 years old, soon after I became an Eagle Scout, my parents divorced. Gone was the home on the lake, the horses, the family boat. Gone was my brothers and my room full of childhood "stuff". Gone was his beloved Peacocks and spaceship. At 17 I quit my junior year in high school and joined the Army. My brother who lived a few more years with my mom until he could legally quit school. He got a good paying job at a printing shop in Tampa and lived in a beautiful old neighborhood off Bayshore Blvd. He freelanced with Sunset?, maybe Sunrise magazine (a Florida living magazine). There, many of his photographs and exotic garden articles were featured monthly. He was hired to setup and design formal gardens and study exotic plants.<br /><br />I got married to my brothers best friend. Her and I raised 3 daughters, the same as I was raised. But my kids uncle was special to them, for he had a fine home of crystal glass, fine art, trendy clothes and an uptown sophisticated life. While I was bringing home the days grease, barely getting by, renting a trailer in a rundown park. Still fishing and killing cottontails for supper 3-4 times a week. Yeah, 29 years (next week) with the same girl my brother introduced to me.<br /><br />My brother had such a huge circle of friends. All of them to be sure were a little different. But I was a pretty good judge of character. My opinion was one that none of them had a mean bone in their body. They wouldn't march in any parade or presume to be ceremoniously married. They were all polite, well educated, successful and highly productive people. There wasn't a single time they made me feel uncomfortable. Although sometimes flamboyant, they were all unassuming and above all harmless. <br />My brother and his friends were all very quiet, private and mostly wanted to let all those years of brutal name calling in school to be a distant past. Surely didn't want to make judgements, so they wouldn't be bothered by the "straights". After all, what were once schoolbus fights as children, could easily mean an emergency room visit...or much worse, as adults.<br /><br />My brother died of AIDS back in '92. Thirty four years old and had a rough row to hoe all his school years. He had a mom and dad that loved him. Scores of people who attended his funeral. And one "tough guy" brother that never quite got the chance to tell him how much he loved and respected him.<br />A family, a brother that grew up with a homosexual. One that was a homosexual long before he knew what sex was. One that didn't get abused, locked in a closet or beat by his dad. And simply a homosexual that after all is said and done, the guilt by his parents as to why, and how could this happen. <br />The plain and simple truth can only be known by those who are in the position to really know all the intimate details. <br />They are born that way.<br /><br />Now don't get your back up thinking I'm really gonna take what is written by strangers on a www board personally. I don't and I'm not.<br />I don't expect a change of minds and I'm not going to make moral judgements here on this thread. But I'll say in total confidence that most of what is written here in hate, is done with understandable ignorance. And any "unreasonable fears" are your own problem. <br />Not all people are born with generous amounts of understanding, compassion and goodwill.
<br /><br />rant over.<br /><br />JD
