Never Been Kissed.... Such... well, Glee....

I have been watching this scene from Glee and it breaks my heart. I know there should always be teachers or avenues, but in life ...... there sometimes aren't, or you don't recognize them. To me, what you see next is a dream sequence... because it didn't happen in the '70"s, the world I'm most familiar with. It happens more often now... but what I think about are the people who made it possible. Freedom always comes by way of... other people.




...............
You have been a proponent of gay marriage/unions. I thought I would introduce you to someone who helped make it possible.
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I think this is the earliest picture I have of him. It was in our 1972 Yearbook, and Mr. Featherston was the principal of my High School. Carey was not discussing his schedule that day as the caption states. He was finding out if the school would welcome him back... not that he cared. Mr. Featherston did and let him stay.




I know something a lot of people do not. Mr. Featherston was adopted, as was Carey. It's why he offered Carey grace, and probably extended Carey's life a few years...though his death would come early. Maybe Mr. Featherston didn't understand being gay, but he understood being lost.

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Carey was fucking brilliant. He studied to be a lawyer. He could have been an historian. I watched him battle religious fanatics on campus while standing outside on a hill, and tear them to pieces. He came to my classes with other gay men and lesbians.... when that just wasn't done... and said the most outrageous things. The most true things.

Once, a student asked him in all seriousness if his penis was different because he was gay... and Carey answered with class, 'Would you like to look?." You knew he would do it.

The man didn't answer.
............

The world turned and Carey went away, and came back.

Broken.



There are so many stories left in the cracks of this saga. That was the beauty of him...he was never boring. See that cross on his arm? It's covering up an old story in his life.... one I sat and watched re-etched. There were many illicit drugs and a lot of Southern Comfort involved...

In his quest for self, or that lack of it.... he ventured out. Way out. And he found a 'Gacy' type. Really, just as bad. I know the details; I have the court documents. I've met the man on paper, and I wouldn't mind meeting him in person.

He still lives. Somewhere in prison. Carey lives only in my memory.

..............

He wandered the country. He was in New York and at Studio 54. He was incredibly handsome and frighteningly charismatic. He knew the famous. He loved some of us who were not.

Carey landed in California and met Walter Wheeler, a short (Carey was 6 feet), plain, heart-felt man who was a lawyer. They fell in love and decided political action was necessary. Carey had always been an activist. He went to jail while in college for allegedly housing Susan Saxe and Katherine Power (look them up).

They set up a corporation called Couples Inc. and created a gay 'wedding' on Washington. If you look up a book called, "The dividends of dissent", on page 121 there is a world of information about what they created and why they did it. It was long before they thought it could be possible, but it was a huge milestone.

Walter and Carey had their problems. Carey's drug habit was one of them. One night Walter called me wondering what to do. He and I didn't talk much, so this was new. But, by then Carey and I considered ourselves siblings.

Walter said the drugs had gotten really bad, and I told him to leave Carey.... told him to leave my shining star that was doing a swan dive into oblivion.

Before he could, Walter had a massive heart attack in his early '50's: dropped dead next to their bed, and Carey never recovered.

............

I flew to California to help and found myself watched, herded and threatened by drug dealers at his West Hollywood home. Thankfully, I had the number of a lesbian couple they knew in Pasedina who came and got me, and got me home. I don't think I've ever forgiven myself for leaving.
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Carey contracted AIDS and died alone in a hospice. I can't forgive myself for that, either. I accepted his ashes from the postman and handed them over to his father in a ceremony in Kentucky. For all the good he did, it was me... my parents, his dad, and our old college group that said goodbye. We set balloons aloft, and I thought his religious right dad was going to lose it.

................

One thing.

Right after I met him, at the age of seventeen, someone was having a party and he offered to pick me up. He was new to our world. I was so taken with him. We stopped, somewhere to talk before going on. I don't know why. Maybe he needed to talk.

Imagine it. An incredibly handsome, charismatic seventeen year old... and me.

This is what he said.

Listen, B.

,,,,,,,,,,

He had been living in North Carolina with his parents. He knew he was adopted. He didn't care... he loved them. His dad was a lawyer and they must have had some money. He was about to turn 16 and wanted a car. His mother was sick (it was probably cancer), and when he asked her for one, she said no. He stormed out of the house.

He stayed away a while. I think it was days, but it might have been hours. Memory does not serve. But, when he got home his father was at the foot of the stairs leading up to the bedroom in tears. Carey asked what was wrong, and his father said his mother had just died.

It colored the rest of his life... defined it.

There I sat, holding a living comet in my arms as he cried. A child's tears.

..............

You don't know it now. You must rely on trust. We are singular. We are individuals.

As much as our past/emotion wants to define us, we have a choice. If you live so long, you will be pissed if you don't stop re-acting, and act, instead.

Love matters, B. Drama is just another day.

I love you.