I wish I could tell you that I live somewhere exotic, like Big Sur or a small island off the coast of Maine. But I can’t. In reality, I live in southern Arizona, just outside of Tucson. Which, in many ways, is better than exotic. It’s comfortable. The people are diverse (with a fairly large lesbian community) and vibrant. It has a small-town feel with all the amenities of a large city. 9 months out of the year Tucson’s weather is fantastic. And during those three summer months, we are often cooler than Minnesota. Our monsoons are more fun to watch than Netflix. And the winters are brilliant. more
When I first met Pen, I was fourteen. So was she. She was a little taller than me. A little broader. More solid. Everything about her painted a picture of confidence—not with bold colors, no arrogance, just a well-structured blend of natural hews. But once you found her eyes beneath the layers of shaggy brown curls, you could sense her power. It was intense. Focussed. Sometimes searing. More than once, it left me breathless. more
I have to tell you, I know very little about ML and it isn't for lack of trying. Initially, I would have bet an entire bag of Oreo Cookies on the assumption she had a long and intense military career. But no, she was a kindergarten teacher for 40 years. I would have bet a box of See's Candies on the fact that she loved sports and drinking beer. But no, she loves opera, she loves going to art museums, and she loves champagne. Am I a poor judge of character? Maybe but ML's cover tells you nothing about the read. more
Harriet is ten years younger than I am. She was born and raised in Roanoke, Virginia, which in the early sixties was a small southern city. She always says she loved her childhood because she was raised in the country; not on a working farm exactly but on land that was conducive to the hunter/gatherer lifestyle her parents dreamed of. more
Pen introduced me to Ryan at a Gay Men’s Chorus event to raise money for aids victims in Washington D.C. He wasn’t a flamboyant man, even in the company of gays, but he definitely had a flare. His smile brightened any mood. His dark brown eyes twinkled with mischief. Ryan could turn a tense moment into a belly laugh. He could hold the hand of a horrifyingly emaciated friend and talk of the future then cry loudly and openly when that friend died.
Ryan was born in 1947 and was raised in Silver Springs, Maryland (a suburb of DC). He adored his mother who died when he was nineteen and despised his father who regretfully is still alive to this day. more
