(Any comments, please reach me by my e-mail--dadofprince@gmail.com. Thanks!)
It was an ambush, plain and simple. I had walked into a trap.
A while back, I wrote that every so often--four or five weeks--I would travel to Sturgeon Bay to read one or two of these blogs to a group that assembled on what's called Writers Night. It takes place at the Tambourine Lounge, a hole-in-the-wall pub (or, it used to be until Covid) just off downtown, every Thursday.
Understandably postponed by Covid, Writers' Night renewed itself back in January. As one might imagine, its numbers were thin at the rebound. But last Thursday, well--the place was pretty filled, nearly to overflowing.
It's easy to overflow a place like that. It has a small stage and folding chairs off to the side of it. Cozy wouldn't be the exact definition of the atmosphere; snug would be more like it. It now offers rest room facilities and a water cooler. If you want to bring a beer or beers onto the premeses, you're welcome to do so. I've never seen anyone do that, though.
Anyhow--it had been a good six weeks since I'd been there, due to other things coming up on consecutive Thursdays. But I also wanted to remain relevant to that group. Reading one's stuff to an accepting crowd is a gratifying experience, even two and a half hours away by car. Plus--now they know me.
But something had happened while I was gone. I have no idea what's on the Writers' Night schedule, and I'd never been there on a special observance. Up until that particular night, I thought it was just freewheeling and freelancing, and then the long drive home, either that night or the next morning.
Cathy Grier, an excellent singer-songwriter (kind of a poorwoman's Bonnie Raitt, that kind of quality) and occasional facilitator of the festivities--usually a songwriter plays first, then a reader reads next in loosely arranged order--hadn't seen me in a while, and came over to greet me. Then she delivered the news: Tonight was LGBTQIA+ Night.
Surprise! I looked around the room. Most of the people, I figured, were gay. Yikes! Surrounded! I had ridden into an ambush!
Oops. Cathy, who came out a while back herself, told me I was welcome to stay, but would it be all right if I waited until gay writers and writers discussing gayness had read their stuff?
I suppose I could have walked out right then and there, I guess, as much in empathy with gay writers as in abject fear that, well, something could happen. Whatever in the hell that would be.
I took her up on it. And had a great time listening to gay perspectives on a number of things. Time allowed me to read my stuff at the tail end. Win-win in its best form.
So I'm here to tell you: I didn't become gay. It didn't rub off on me. Not even a little. I didn't feel very sinful, either. I'm not sure I even thought gay things, whatever they might be.
Please know that I don't feel any less straight than I did when I walked in unbeknownst, either. I don't think I'm inclined to like men now. I still like women every bit as much as I did before last Thursday. Really.
Such a declaration, of course, is crazy and seemingly stupid, but there are some out there who wouldn't get caught dead in the middle of such a room, who might have even walked out upon the discovery. They would consider themselves ambushed and surge to the exit.
Think not? Then why would even reading books written about and by gay people be banned, which is happening in both schools and public libraries? Why is it so threatening? Why would state legislatures care enough to pass legislation against such works? Who are these ersatz crusaders who would stamp out these horrible sins to relieve the rest of us from whatever they think afflicts us, except it doesn't?
I need to say this, too--I didn't read something about gays before I entered the Tambourine Lounge! I didn't encourage closeness with gays! I didn't bring it on!
And--what's vital here--I haven't gone to a bookstore or (gasp!) a library to find books written by gays or about them! Being surrounded by gay people ended up in my being--wait for it--unchanged in any way!
I didn't even feel besieged! It didn't wear me out! Is there something wrong with me?? If there is, did hanging around with gay people for a couple of hours worsen it??
In fact, I felt perfectly comfortable. Credit my NEA background here. If someone has a problem with gays, the NEA isn't the place to be. When I left it, in 2009, a good 15% of the NEA Board of Directors, in fact, were gay, as well as a significant number of state affiliate presidents (where much of the power actually lies). I never felt a barrier of any sorts. No big deal, and I think my comments reflected that.
I got up there and explained my feelings by comparing them to an old Miller Lite commercial in which people are shouting the comparative benefits of that beer--"Less filling! Tastes great!" with the then New York Yankees manager Billy Martin in the room, observing the commotion. Then, in a gesture he wouldn't be known for under any circumstances (he was known for his pugnacious combativeness), he turns to the camera and says, "I feel very strongly both ways," which is to say that that beer is both, the point of the commercial.
I continued that I was glad I was reading my stuff last (It was the earlier blog you may have read about the liberal arts and my participation within them) and that those to whom the evening had been previously dedicated got first dibs. I had also learned a few things about the gay lifestyle that I hadn't known. One lady had written about dating heterosexually, for instance, realizing that she needed to come out, and then trying to find a female partner; well done and pretty funny. I had never heard anyone comment about that before. I considered myself fortunate to be in the room.
I regarded the evening as something of a happy accident. I suppose one could say, in fact, that I had changed, but for the better. I had been enriched in a way I hadn't anticipated, which is sometimes the best way of all, when you realize that you don't know what you don't know. I had certainly felt comfortable all evening. I mean, big deal, you know?
That the matter can prompt writing to remark upon it indicates that there remains a significant sector of our society that can't get over itself when considering gay culture and its significant, important contributions. That it has gone overboard with some people's avoidance and continued condemnation (read: DeSantis) shows that it's an artificially juiced-up controversy that shouldn't even be there. But gays and prejudices against them have a history, too, one that, it says here, should be examined in more depth.
We have absorbed, and rightfully so, lots of research and literature about Blacks and 400 years of our missing the boat about them. It's past time to do that for gays--and it should be done by people who are straight.
In the meantime, I just had myself an unexpectedly good time. Wouldn't mind being banqueted like that in the future. I'll bring the beer.
Be well, Be careful. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.
Mister Mark
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