Celebrants of Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza and the usually omitted Druid’s Yule, all find December a joyful season this year. And me too; Dec. 25, among other things, is my birthday. It is a day which I am facing with mixed emotions. Certainly, I am happy to still be here considering, as they say, the alternative. And my age is not depressing me, after all, I am not old, I am well-aged, like a fine wine or violin. What saddens me is facing the season without several holiday companions who passed on this year.
This is not an uncommon feeling among seniors. As the years whiz by, we are met with the inevitable consequences. These yearly celebrations, so filled with happy family memories, are especially hard on the LGBTers who are alone. What to do? Pity parties get us nowhere. Remember, the LGBT community is its own support system as well as family and we should make the most of what we offer each other. So, get out of the house. Call a friend or friends and attend some of the many church celebrations and social festivities going on and share a meal together. I guarantee, with companionship, everyone will feel better. Keep the conversation light and gay (both meanings); try swapping tales of your best holiday, your favorite present, a crazy relative story, etc. Don’t be afraid to remember and re-live the happy times with love, laughter and maybe a tear. Join me as I offer a sincere and loving toast to absent friends and prepare to enjoy the season.
New arrival mis-haps
As a New Englander arriving in San Diego a few years ago, I have had to learn the mysterious ways of gay Southern California – all that hugging. Plus, working out of the country for 40 years, I was unfamiliar with the names of many new celebrities and local businesses.
For example, “What is a Whoopie Goldberg?” I wondered. A lesbian friend was aghast that I was unfamiliar with Xena, who seems to be an icon in her community. I thought it was an acne medicine.
An amusing (to some) misunderstanding came about when a new friend informed me he had worked 20 years for the CIA. I assumed he would be forthcoming with tales of daring-do and adventure. I was more than a little let down when it was revealed he was referring to the local Culinary Institute of America. A worthy career choice no doubt, however…
Northeast born and bred I was constantly confused by the local cuisine. I am still not sure what a chipotle is. And as for polenta, doesn’t that have something to do with babies? Place names are also trouble. I cringe remembering pointing a tourist to El Cajon the boulevard and learning later he was seeking El Cajon the city. Speaking of which, don’t get me started on pronunciation: El Cajon, La Jolla, etc. I just hope those who laugh at me will venture forth to Maine and have to ask directions to the famous Bowdoin College or head-up country to Mattawamkeag or Damarascotta.
