Real answers…
It was an age of great inventions and discoveries. Gutenberg invented removable type and the Bible. Another important invention was the circulation of blood.
Sir Walter Raleigh is a historical figure because he invented cigarettes and started smoking.
Sir Francis Drake circumcised the world with a 100 foot clipper which was very dangerous to all his men.
If you enjoy “Will and Grace” or “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy”, you have somebody to thank for that freedom of gay expression.
A few weeks ago Jack Nichols, a significant figure in American gay history, died at the age of 67. I am 45 and I’m embarrassed to say I had not heard of him. Reading the obituary of Nichols made me aware of how little I know about those who fought for gay rights, for my rights, in the decades before Stonewall (1969) and after.
How did we get where we are? Most of us take for granted the rights and acceptance we have today. Yet 40 years ago society’s view of us was all negative, and the laws reflected it. We were considered
We had no rights as gay people. There are still many areas where we are not accepted, but we have come a long way.
We have Jack Nichols to thank for many of those gains. He helped organize some of our first civil rights demonstrations. He was a founder of “Gay”, the first gay weekly newspaper in the US. He led the first gay rights march on the White House, in April, 1965. Wow! That same year, he helped organize a July 4 demonstration at Independence Hall in Philadelphia. Remember, being gay was illegal in every state. Gay men and lesbians could be jailed or stuck in a nut house just for being open about their sexuality. And of course, back then, gay bashing was pretty much accepted as perfectly justified.
In 1967 he went on national television and spoke as an openly gay person in the CBS documentary, “The Homosexuals” (Sounds like a bad horror movie) I’m sure he feared for his life in those days.
Perhaps his most significant contribution was to lobby the American Psychiatric Association to change the official definition of homosexuality as a mental illness. It took awhile. Finally, in 1973, four years after Stonewall, the language condemning us as mentally ill was dropped.
But he also contributed to the spiritual growth of our culture. When he restarted the Mattachine Society in NYC in 1961, he knew of the spiritual and philosophical tradition of Harry Hay, who created the original Mattachine Foundation in San Francisco in 1950. And he also continued the older gay spirit of Walt Whitman. He tried to close the gap between religion and gayness. More about these efforts here.
Starting in 1963, he chaired the Washington Society’s Committee on Religious Concerns and initiated the first organized dialogs on America’s East Coast between LGBT activists and clergy representing various denominations. Nichols himself is not a member of any church, but instead calls himself a “philosophical child” of Walt Whitman’s.
You can learn more about this remarkable and attractive man from his web site, Jack Nichols.
So next time you’re out holding hands with your beau, or kissing on main street, or buying a house with your lover, or venting to a gay counselor about the trials of gay life, or even just reading a gay novel, or posting to your gay blog, think of Jack Nichols. He’s gone now, but he helped make all those things easier to do as an openly gay person.
Actual answers, as is, from history tests and in Sunday school quizzes, by 5th and 6th grade kids, in Ohio.
Julius Caesar extinguished himself on the battlefields of Gaul. The Ides of March murdered him because they thought he was going to be made king. Dying, he gasped out “Same to you, Brutus.”
Joan of Arc was brunt to a steak and was canonized by Bernard Shaw for reasons I don’t really understand. The English and French still have problems.
Queen Elizabeth was the “Virgin Queen”. As a queen she was a success. When she exposed herself before her troops they all shouted “hurrah!” and that was the end of the fighting for a long while.
A fleeting infatuation with a perfect, poetic moment, and a beautiful young man. Enjoy.
The enormous dinosaur statue
looms out over the sidewalk
by the Smithsonian’s
Museum of Natural History.
As I sit people watching,
dappled sun imbues
the grand walkway of the Mall
with the effervescent glitter
of an old movie’s flashing motion.
I notice another natural wonder…
a blond, succulent boy-adolescent,
lounged on a bench, legs out-stretched,
crossed at the ankles, carefree, vivid.
Tousled hair tickles his smooth face
as he reads, alone, intent.
Baby blue faded
denim jeans suck close
to the mystery
topography of his
pelvis. What dreams
conjure his desires?
My wandering mind
imagines the
out-cropping of the
dinosaur’s graceful neck
groping in the trees above
for food to satisfy the longing
in it’s great, curved throat.
I smile at this wistful image,
wishing
I could laugh my way
into those trees
and become a leaf
to be grazed by him,
nuzzled by his warm neck.
Arms folded
across his chest-
a solid, lean torso
arises from his trunk
up away into the light of day and
the dappled mirage of
my fluttering thoughts
back into history and this museum.
I shudder with pleasure
and lose all my leaves.
I like to take the long way sometimes. Reinvent the wheel. Because the scenery is more interesting along the less traveled path. What seems obvious to others may seem invisible to me, and maybe the way I see things might resonate with others. That’s the fun of communication. Not to be right, but to see more clearly. I look for connections. Sometimes the answer is given before the question as I wind along my circuitous route. The resonant questions are what I seek. What does the tree say?
“I’m not lost, I’m exploring.” I saw a bumper sticker with that on it a long time ago, and I’ve never forgotten it. It made sense to me. I have a pretty bad sense of direction, or rather, often forget to take the right exit. When I drive alone, and get lost, I don’t mind. I usually enjoy the detour, enjoy the different scenery. Sometimes I discover things I never could have looked for. As long as I don’t have a deadline, I just get into being where ever I am. But when I’m driving with someone, even a good friend, I get annoyed with myself for being lost! Now that’s revealing.
I grew up in the DC area. When the new Mormon temple was built in Maryland, I think it was back in the mid 70’s, I used to love driving by it on the beltway, but it seemed more beautiful when I’d forget my exit and then see it loom up over the trees, a glowing white fortress floating, surreal, ethereal beyond the bustle of the highway. My existence seemed to open up into another possibility, the bottom would drop out, and I’d feel really free, accidentally miraculous.
When I go to new cities, I usually like to just take off on foot and map it out myself. I might have a map, just to find my way back. But I’ll keep going in one direction until I feel like turning, or if something catches my eye. I still have memories of seeing things I know I didn’t imagine, but have no idea where I saw them. Like when I found a regal, old redwood in Austria while exploring some park in Graz. That tree drew me to it, and told me things in some other language. I knew I was in the right place, that was the message. Past and future faded to a bright point before me in the form of this tree. I never was able to remember its location to show a friend. My little private magic.
Or, when I awoke at 4 AM the morning after arriving in Graz, and decided to get up an go jogging. Having no idea where I was going, I just jogged down a main street until it came to a park. Graz is a very small, dense old southern Austrian city built along a river, so it’s pretty flat. But this park was where the old city used to be, and it’s on a sudden hill outcropping, like a big round boob in the middle of the city. Since the sun was about to rise, I jogged up the boob. I was puffing, and loving it. (the exercise, that is) Rebel freedom. I got to the top, puff, puff, or so I remember. And the sunrise was glorious. I could swear I heard angels, maybe it was birds. I stood there feeling like a king, in the best of all places.
Well, all things have to end. Down the hill I went, along the serpentine path through trees and past benches, past a cute young man, past some flower beds, more trees. Wait, a cute young man? Alone in a park at five AM? I didn’t want to presume what he was doing there. After all, I was in a foreign country. And this was a small city. Maybe guys liked to get up early here for the fresh air. So I kept going. I didn’t get far when I heard a whistle. Yep, it was him. He wanted me to enjoy the sunrise with him. At least that’s what I thought he said, since I didn’t understand his heavy Graz German. (wink, wink) I’ll let the rest of the film run in your head. Now do you see why I don’t mind getting lost?