In January of 1979, I moved into a studio apartment after an ugly break-up with my partner, Geoffrey. The moment I saw the small jewel box of windows perched on top of an old Victorian, it felt like the right place to be.
read moreMy old boss and mentor, Doug Tompkins, passed away last December after a kayaking accident. He was a world-class entrepreneur, devoted outdoor enthusiast and a major conservationist.
read moreA red bandana held my long black hair away from my soggy face as I hurried to finish my shift. I couldn’t wait to get to Potpourri, a nearby gay bar, to reunite with Colton.
read moreAfter suppressed memories of my father surfaced a few years ago, I began to wonder if PTSD was the only thing that he brought back with him from the war.
read moreUnlike Willy and Sandy, my parents’ friend Brodrick Westcott did not live in the closet because he was yanked out of it. During a routine police raid of the public men’s rooms in a park in St. Louis, he was discovered having man-on-man sex, arrested and thrown in jail under the prevailing sodomy laws. Word of his transgression spread quickly among his peers in the elite West County suburbs and, within a short time, he lost his his marriage, his child, his livelihood, his friends, his reputation and eventually his life.
read moreIn her book, Shameless, A Sexual Reformation, Nadia Bolz-Weber writes that she navigated her sex life “without any wisdom from my elders.” I had the same experience because most of my gay elders were deep in the closet.
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