Can it be that time again? Yes, it can. Pride is here. I mean our outward expression and celebration of LGBTism. We seniors have clear and unhappy memories of our years of secrets, embarrassment, shame and fear for our jobs, safety and even lives for being ourselves. The situation has changed for many of us, but sadly, many of our brothers and sisters still live in areas of hate and discrimination. They need our prayers and support whenever and however we can give it.
This coming weekend, we in San Diego have the chance to express ourselves and our sexuality without hindrance or legal complications. There is one exception, perhaps, in the differing opinions as to what is acceptable nudity and body art. Surely it is not hard to realize University Avenue is not Folsom Street. The general public here has been very supportive of us recently with families and people of all stripes lining the streets, attending the festival and, to a large extent, cheering us on. They expect to see wild and wonderful costumes, lots of skin and moments of outlandishness; it is part of the fun. However, to go over the limits and flash obviously X-rated outfits, appendages and signs in people’s faces is not helpful to the LGBT community. Sorry if you disagree (Not really). You can still strut your stuff in a fab sexy costume, just save the abbreviated version for the private parties and events.
With this single quibble, I hope everyone gets out and supports as many of the events as possible – especially those which are donating to various causes important to our community. Finally, be sure to wave as the trolley goes by filled with members of the senior men’s group, FOG (Fellowship of Older Gays). Sooner than you think, you may be riding in it.
I had to show it
A thrilling and rare event occurred recently. I was in a local thrift store to purchase a few things (for a friend) and the hunk at the counter asked if I had any discount. I acknowledged, believe it or not, I was a senior. Whereupon, he asked to see my driver’s license! Hurt (not) by his inference of my dishonesty, I showed him my ID; managing to cover the mad-slasher photo with my thumb.
Later, my mood plummeted during a phone call to my partner in Japan. I told him how wonderful it was, after such a long time, to have been carded by a handsome young man. Not knowing what “carded” meant, he somehow put a sinister and unseemly meaning to the word and suddenly his voice emitted vibrations of seething sulk.
Some of you might wonder how I could tell, but those of us in long-term relationships know the situation. It goes with the territory. We have experienced the silence period interrupted only by an occasional “mmm,” “uh-huh” or “I see.” The question, “Is anything wrong?” gets, “No.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Further inquiry leads to, “Why should anything be wrong? I haven’t done anything.” Emphasis on the “I.” While trying to sound care-free and cheery, we madly try to think what we have said or done. We talk faster and faster until we are babbling and our mind is reeling with possibilities.
In this case, I soon realized the villain, but my explanation was greeted with only mild acceptance, if not skepticism. The problem was he found my being carded hard to believe. Well! That was certainly worthy of a snit – mine. But I let it go to keep peace in the valley. In my own mind the scenario was quite understandable. I recall the lust in the young man’s eyes and the way he peered at my card. Obviously, it was all a ploy to find out my address. Cheeky devil! But when you’ve still got it, you have to put up with such things.
