Proud to be

This past Fall, I did something for the first time that I thought I would never do-- I returned to the University of Alabama campus for Homecoming and attended a Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion tailgate.

I had joined the UA LGBTQ Alumni Association and even became an officer of the group. People my age have asked me about why I am involved in the LGBTQ Alumni Association and I, admittedly, sometimes struggle to explain. When I graduated (as the youths say) in the late 1900’s, the University was not a welcoming campus for someone like me; struggling with my sexuality and working hard to not be found out. When I graduated I moved away as fast as I could to the city; I needed to leave so I could become my authentic self. For years, I refused to give to the University and felt left out when my straight friends would be involved in their alumni chapters; meeting up with their local chapters for game days, going back to campus and reminiscing about how much they loved their college experiences. My experience was something they couldn’t relate to, so it was no surprise I couldn’t relate to their enthusiasm for the University. 

When I was asked by a friend to join the LGBTQ Alumni Association, I hesitated. Although I was happy to see that the alumni association was finally recognizing their LGBTQ Alumni, I was not sure I wanted to be a part of something I had put behind me for so long. When I joined, I knew it was time to write a new chapter in my story, and make sure that students today don’t have to go through what I did. 

Being involved I learned of the work the LGBTQ community was doing on campus, the DEI Office and the scholarships for LGBTQ students. I saw students on campus openly living out loud, and being safe.

As I arrived on campus and walked to the Quad, I stood in front of Denny Chimes surrounded by people enjoying Homecoming, I smiled. I was finally able to feel as proud of being a part of the University of Alabama as I am to be a gay man. I got to wear a button that said “Roll Pride” but most importantly, I finally felt that Roll Pride.

Letting go of that hurt is part of healing from that pain. Being a leader in helping young gay students enjoy their time at the Capstone is a way for me to be hero that younger me needed. I’m excited to return to campus this Fall for Homecoming again and finally feel at home and be proud of my time there.

Spring Opening: Beginnings and Endings

My grandmother would call dad and say, “Send the kids up, it’s time to open up the house” and off we’d go. We did the reverse every winter. Old houses, you see, are drafty and hard to heat and cool and if you aren’t using rooms in the winter you seal them up the best you can and retreat to the parts of the house you can tolerate.

In the Winter we’d be limited to a small den, kitchen, breakfast room and 2 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms in the big ol’ drafty house. Spring meant we’d finally get our own bedrooms again and have plenty of room to run around and cause havoc. As a child, I remember sneaking into the closed off sections of the house in the winter and it would be colder than it was outside and the heavy curtains letting only a sliver of light through gave me my own Great Expectations fantasyland.

But, Spring, now that was when we knew Easter was near and we would soon be back to sitting on the front porch after supper and ‘counting cars’ as we’d hear them approaching out on the highway. One point if you guessed the direction they were headed! There would be homemade ice cream churning and when you were old enough, grandma would let you go get the mail. This was a very exciting moment because the mailbox was up the drive and across the highway. It meant you were a ‘grown up’ in her eyes if she thought it was safe enough for you to do this important errand. I remember looking left and right about a hundred times each before I’d dare dart across an empty country highway to grab the mail and run back.

With the whole house opened back up we would run to choose our bedrooms and she would help us make up the beds. We’d fight to make sure we didn’t get the one furthest away because it was scary down that hall and none of us wanted to be that far away. I never did sleep in that room.

That old house was where I knew love and learned the lessons of being a person of good character, where I learned that a Dr. Pepper float was even better with a dash of vanilla extract. I can close my eyes and remember every nook and cranny. It was a part of me.

As we got older, we didn’t go up as often. Kids grow up and spending time at grandmother’s out in the country isn’t as exciting when you can drive a car. But, I would drive up by myself to see her and Great Grandma. It was still a very special place for us. When great grandmother died, I remember the funeral and hushed conversations about how long grandma would live there by herself. It never occurred to my child brain that this place wouldn’t be exactly like it was forever. A hard lesson to learn as a child is that everything changes and some day it will be something you can only see when you close your eyes and think of the magic you once knew.

A few years later we got a call and were all racing to Alex City and Russell Hospital. Grandmother’s sister had come by and found grandma on the floor. She had pneumonia and had been so weak she couldn’t even get to the phone. Her sister had gone over when she hadn’t heard from her. Those hushed conversations around me grew louder, but I still didn’t understand. I thought we’d all move in.

Dad came out and gave us the order. “Mother says she’s never going back to the house. She wants me to get her an apartment in town and sell the house before she’s released from the hospital.” He said this without any hesitation and went to call the appropriate people and put his mother’s wishes in action. If there was one thing we all knew, we didn’t dispute grandma when she had issued an order.

We all begged and pleaded with Dad to not do it, but he wouldn’t budge. His mother had said. He’d hired an auction house to come sell the house and the contents and we had three days to get what we wanted and to furnish her apartment. I picked my favorite chair, a table and a small silver box. I don’t even remember what my brothers got.

As the day of the auction neared, grandmother was released from the hospital and we made her come to the auction. Father drove her and she stopped before the crowd that had assembled as first the property was being sold separately and then the house. Hundreds of acres. Family property for generations. Gone in twenty minutes. I clung to my mom begging her to bid.

I saw a single tear fall from my grandmother’s face. A stoic woman, this was a rare sight. She had realized the auction was happening on the same day her husband had died. A full circle moment of loss for her. She turned and stiff backed walked back to the car. I didn’t know then the weight of that moment for her, but as an adult I tear up at the thought of a great ending that day.

I give her credit. Grandmother loved her little apartment and getting to see friends and being ‘in town’. Grandma lived in that apartment until the day she came to live with her son as she slipped into dementia.

I’d visit from college and then from Dallas and even when she didn’t remember her own son she would see me and say, “My baby.” When she was at the end of her life in the hospital that very last day I flew in from Dallas and raced to Montgomery. I stopped to get flowers in the gift shop and when dad saw me in the hall he said, “Why did you do that? She doesn’t even know where she is, son.” I said, “She will know me.” I walked in and she lifted her hand to cup my chin, “My Baby” she said and smiled at the flowers. I started to sing her favorite him, “Because He Lives” and she sang along with me and closed her eyes for the final time. I turned to dad and said, “I told you she would know” and we hugged for a long time and it was one of the few times I felt my dad’s chest heave.

I called mom and said get Grandma’s pretty red dress. The one with the little flowers on it and a bow. There was an uproar that she wouldn’t want to be buried in a red dress! Grandma had told me long before her dementia she was saving that dress. My brother had sent it to her from NYC and she thought it was the prettiest dress she’d ever seen. When we walked into the funeral home, the casket open, I didn’t want to approach. Dad put his hands on my shoulders and said, “Go say goodbye” and as I turned to protest he ushered everyone but me out of the room. There I stood. Her baby. Alone with her in the pretty red dress with the little flowers and a bow.

Goodbye grandma. I use your breakfast plates and good china every day. I make Dr. Pepper Floats with those long plastic teaspoons you had and I sleep under the Lone Star quilt you gave me. I am a part of you and I listened. Always. I just ‘opened the house for Spring’ this weekend. I have to go finish dusting.

Epilogue: For my 40th Birthday a cousin that lived in Texas handed me a bunch of handmade lace I instantly recognized. She’d bought it at the auction all those years ago. I didn’t even remember her being there, she lived in Texas! But, somehow she had and she pushed it into my hands and said, “I’ve been saving this for you. I knew you would one day want it.” Now, I don’t know what I’ll do with lace doilies and lace covers. But I do know I’ll treasure them and the thoughtfulness and foresight of a cousin that knew, one day, I’d need them.

Seeing Monsters in Hiding in Plain Sight

Truman Capote, famously known for his bon mots, once said, “I can see every monster as they come in.” I remember the first time I realized I knew a person was a monster. Unfortunately, I hadn’t spotted them the first time I met them. But, I have learned that to identify those monsters in our lives we have to constantly be on the lookout for them.

Growing up in a small southern town, I was sheltered from much during my childhood. While, in some ways, I treasure that and hold on to that innocence where I can, I was not prepared for the monsters I would encounter during my life. It took me a long time to develop the ability to see the dark side of man so quickly. That ability was a learned one, through many monsters that I suffered through. With each experience that felt like the end of me, I learned a few things.

First, I learned to pay attention. Every one tells you who they are very early. You just have to be able to see them through what they want you to see. Our brains (and hearts) will trick us into thinking we’ve misjudged or we are being too harsh. The worst is when we believe we can save them from their darkness. You can never kiss a monster into a prince. Trust me, I’ve nearly died trying.

Learning the skill of seeing people for who they truly are and believing myself was just the start. We can, if we aren’t careful, build a hard shell around our hearts because of the hurt other people inflict upon us. We beat ourselves up for not being smarter, or being too forgiving. To me, the greatest lesson I have learned from my superpower to see the monsters in my life is they did not break my spirit, they have not hardened me or embittered me. A friend once told me, “Charlie, I admire you so much. You can get your heart trampled and still be open to love.” I smiled and said, “What else is there? Love is more important in this world than hate. The lightness of being open to love is what keeps us alive and living life we can be proud of.” I stand by that. Not in spite of, but because of.

That’s me. Charlie. Killer of monsters.