Category Archives: gay blog

My novel, Shirts and Skins, Gets a Halloween Makeover

IMG_8870-2 copy

Jeffrey Zombie-ized

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Alan Alda Made Me Gay?

free-2-b-u-and-me

When I was growing up in the 70s, my parents bought me the touchy-feeling-I’m-OK-you’re-OK record album Free To Be… You and Me for Christmas (remember when all those baby-boomers still cared about things like civil rights, gender equality, liberation and the like?).

Well, this album was produced by liberal, “That Girl,” (and feminist extraordinaire), Marlo Thomas. It had snappy little tunes on it like “It’s All Right To Cry” by NFL footballer, Rosey Grier, “Parents Are People” by Harry Belafonte, “Helping” by Tommy Smothers (I still wonder if I was the only gay boy that had a crush on Tommy Smothers in the early 70s?) and of course, the title song, “Free To Be You And Me” by The New Seekers.

But my favourite song on the album was sung by liberal, “Hawkeye Pierce” (and feminist extraordinaire), Alan Alda. It was called “William’s Doll” and advocated in sing-along, non-gender specific play. That is, the song told the story of William, a young boy whose parents refused to buy him a doll – because it they thought it would make him into a ‘sissy’.

You know, that may have been the first time I heard the word ‘sissy’.

Eventually, through the course of the three-minute ditty of William’s repeated requests and repeated refusals for a doll, finally William’s grandmother dropped by one day and (going behind the father’s back) bought the kid a doll.  After all, she said, William was going to be a father one day so he needed the practice of burping a doll.

Thus, since it was now acceptable for a boy to have a doll  all the children cheered and danced and played having learned the valuable lesson that there was nothing wrong with a boy who desperately wanted to play with dolls.

Wanna bet?

The next year I asked for the Jamie Summers Bionic Woman doll for my birthday.  The answer was a horrified and unequivocal “NO” (OK, maybe I went a tad far by also asking for the Bionic Woman Beauty Salon /Repair Station with the little salon chair, teeny-weeny hair dryer and the set computer cables that connected to circuits in her arm and two legs – which I was going to use to give her a home permanent). Perhaps, my parents did not think I would learn much about being a father by blow drying Jamie’s hair.

But in retrospect, I think that hearing “William’s Doll” way back in the 70s (and knowing that there may be other little kids out there like me and William) did make things a little easier for the little Gay Groom.

And though I know that I my attraction to men cannot be directly attributed to listening to “Free To Be… You and Me” and, specifically, “William’s Doll,” sometimes I like telling people that it was Alan Alda who made me gay – just for fun.

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom

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Thanksgiving (with as Little Effort as Possible)

Ah, Thanksgiving!

The one day a year when we loosen the belts and eat like pigs without any guilt.  Well maybe not… it’s really one of many days in the year where we loosen the belts and eat like pigs without gilt.

For those that do no know, Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving on the second Monday in October.

Why do we celebrate Thanksgiving on the second Monday in October, you may ask?  I don’t know. Perhaps we do this just to be different.  Like the way we pronounce house and about.

Though the holiday is on Monday, most folks eat Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday.  Why do we eat Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday when the holiday is on Monday, you may ask?  To quote my mother (and almost every mother in the country): “I’m sure as hell not spending my day off cooking!”

So we eat on Sunday.

And this year Thanksgiving sneaked up on your humble blogger.  It seems like one day you’re celebrating Labour Day and the next you’re in the A&P body checking old ladies for the last turkey in the grocers freezer.

The thought of having to cook Thanksgiving dinner was not as intriguing this year as it may have been in the past.  And to be perfectly honest, I’m not much of a cook (to be perfectly perfectly honest, I hate cooking).   So I looked for some easy short-cuts that would enable me to get a Thanksgiving dinner on the table with as little time and effort from me as possible.

And to quote Kurt Vonnegut, “If you can do a half-assed job of anything, you’re a one-eyed man in a kingdom of the blind.”

My half-assesd Thanksgiving dinner

Step One:  Turkey in a box

I bought a Butterball frozen breast turkey.  No just any frozen turkey but a ‘no-defrost’, ‘no-baste’, ‘pre-stuffed’, ‘just-stick-the-goddam-thing-in-the-oven-and-forget-about-it’ turkey.   The instructions are simple: shove in the oven frozen and don’t touch for four hours.

Boom! You got your turkey!

Then your Reluctant Chef scooped out the pre-made stuffing from the turkey breast and tossed it on the plate.

Step Two: Cans and more cans

I made some mashed potatoes (really the most labour intensive part of the meal) and opened a can of corn and a can of carrots and a can of jellied cranberry sauce.

Boom! You got Thanksgiving side dishes!

Step Three: Frozen dessert

For dessert I picked up a pre-made frozen pie.   All I had to do was take it out of the box and throw it in the oven for 50 minutes.

Boom! You got dessert!

I actually took a photo of my pie and put it on my Facebook, Twitter and Google+ pages where it received RAVES!  People were impressed I could ‘make’ a pie.

‘Made’ with my own hands…

And my half-assed dinner notwithstanding, I do have a few things to be thankful for this year:

My dad, who has been battling Multiple Myeloma for the last three years is still doing well.

My novel, Shirts and Skins, has been doing really well. Allowing me to continue writing my second book.

Finally, The Gay Groom just celebrated his fourth wedding anniversary.

Who wouldn’t be thankful for that!

By the way, did I mention my Thanksgiving dinner turned out great?  Who would have believed it took practically no effort at all?

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom

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Happy National Coming Out Day!

Already out?

Why not come out all over again to random strangers on the street?

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom

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Filed under coming out day, diana ross, gay blog, gay blogging, gay groom, gaygroom, i'm coming out, lgbt, national coming out day, october 11

Me and Björn Borg – A Love Story

Björn Borg

Since Your Humble Blogger will be taking a few days off, I thought I’d  re-post my most popular blog ever….

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When I was seven years old, I fell in love with Swedish tennis star, Björn Borg.

Being so young, I was not exactly sure why I had a wonderful warm sensation that tickled deep in my belly when I looked at him… but I do know that I really loved watching Borg play tennis.

My perplexed parents would wonder why their Canadian son, who was raised on hockey, but showed no interest in it, would sit for hours alone on the floor of our paneled rec room watching the French Open, US Open and, that Academy Awards of the tennis world, Wimbledon.  No one had any idea that I was completely enthralled by Borg and how happy I was to simply stare at him in his white tennis shorts and watch his long blonde hair flow down to his shoulders from under a red, white and blue headband that looked like a terrycloth halo encircling his head.

Borg looked like Thor on the court and played just the way you would expect the Valhalla god to play if one took his hammer and gave him a racquet in exchange.  Borg had powerful groundstrokes and a merciless doubled-fisted backhand so powerful that I thought I could feel the breeze from the racket on my face as I watched his golden Scandinavian body move against the green grass of Wimbledon.  From the back of the court, Borg would hit the ball hard and high and bring it down with an overwhelming top-spin,making it difficult for opponents to attack him and his great endurance and calm court demeanor earned him the nickname of the “Ice Man.”   And I could not take my eyes off him.

After the 1980 Wimbledon men’s singles finals when a calm and composed Borg won his fifth consecutive championship by beating the obnoxious John McEnroe, I asked my mother for a tennis lessons.  I thought that if I could became a good enough tennis player, maybe it would be possible to meet Borg.  I even fantasized that one day in the future, in matching ADIDAS tennis wear, I would be his doubles partner on that Wimbledon court.  I would grow my hair long like his and, together, we would be invincible.  However, the dream was dashed quickly and completely as my mother thought that tennis lessons were ridiculous.

“There isn’t even a tennis court in this part of town,” she had said.

But to make up for my shattered dreams, one Saturday after shopping with my aunt, my mother came home with one of the best gifts I ever received – a Björn Borg poster.

I taped that poster right over my bed where it would stay long after Borg had retired from tennis.  In fact, that poster was still hanging on my bedroom wall a few years later when I found myself having that same feeling deep my belly – but this time I had the feeling when I looked at Mark, another boy in my eighth-grade class, who also had a head of long flowing blond hair.  On that day I finally realized that this wonderful warm feeling that I had in my belly was love.  Under that poster of Borg, I sat terrified while my mind filled with black horrific images of what the ramifications would be for a boy who liked other boys.

Last Thanksgiving, I returned to my hometown.  My parents had long since converted my old bedroom into a dining room and, with my partner (and soon to be husband) beside me, we ate under where my Borg poster used to hang surrounded by family that love us.  Over dinner, I pointed to the wall behind me and told them the story about Björn Borg, the poster, and my first secret crush.  We all laughed and then my mother told me that they had recently built tennis courts at a new city park a few streets over.  And then she began telling us about the crush she had on Tab Hunter when she was a girl.

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom

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What the Atlantis Cruisers Were Reading This Year

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The husband and I just returned from a (mostly) all-gay Atlantis cruise through the Caribbean and the islands of St. Maarten, St. Kitts and San Juan on Royal Caribbean’s Independence of the Seas.

A photoblog will follow later this week.

But for now, since Your Humble Blogger fancies himself a bit of a writer, I decided to check out what the reading material was on board – for those that could keep their eyes on their books.

By the way, have include the Amazon link and description for each book (though, unfortunately, I will not be providing contact information for all the handsome guys reading them).

Thanks to all the reading men!

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The Great Gatsby

Guys with glasses are so sexy!

The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s third book, stands as the supreme achievement of his career. This exemplary novel of the Jazz Age has been acclaimed by generations of readers. The story of the fabulously wealthy Jay Gatsby and his love for the beautiful Daisy Buchanan, of lavish parties on Long Island at a time when The New York Times noted “gin was the national drink and sex the national obsession,” it is an exquisitely crafted tale of America in the 1920s.
The Great Gatsby is one of the great classics of twentieth-century literature.And it is one of your Humble Bloggers favourite novels as well.
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The Witches of Eastwick

The Witches of Eastwick by John Updike.

Toward the end of the Vietnam era, in a snug little Rhode Island seacoast town, wonderful powers have descended upon Alexandra, Jane, and Sukie, bewitching divorcées with sudden access to all that is female, fecund, and mysterious. Alexandra, a sculptor, summons thunderstorms; Jane, a cellist, floats on the air; and Sukie, the local gossip columnist, turns milk into cream. Their happy little coven takes on new, malignant life when a dark and moneyed stranger, Darryl Van Horne, refurbishes the long-derelict Lenox mansion and invites them in to play. Thenceforth scandal flits through the darkening, crooked streets of Eastwick—and through the even darker fantasies of the town’s collective psyche.

It is one of my favourite Updike novels.

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The Art of Racing in the Rain

The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein.

A heart-wrenching but deeply funny and ultimately uplifting story of family, love, loyalty, and hope–a captivating look at the wonders and absurdities of human life . . . as only a dog could tell it.

The bestselling The Art of Racing in the Rain is currently 349 in books on Amazon.

Anyone else read it?

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Gone Girl

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn.

Marriage can be a real killer.

One of the most critically acclaimed suspense writers of our time, New York Times bestseller Gillian Flynn takes that statement to its darkest place in this unputdownable masterpiece about a marriage gone terribly, terribly wrong. The Chicago Tribune proclaimed that her work “draws you in and keeps you reading with the force of a pure but nasty addiction.” Gone Girl’s toxic mix of sharp-edged wit and deliciously chilling prose creates a nerve-fraying thriller that confounds you at every turn.

I’m not sure “unputdownable” is a word, but who could put the adorable guy reading it down?

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11th Hour (Women’s Murder Club)

11th Hour by James Patterson and Maxine Paetro is currently the #2 book on Amazon.

I suppose I should have heard of it.

But I have not added to my reading list.

Lindsay Boxer is pregnant at last! But her work doesn’t slow for a second. When millionaire Chaz Smith is mercilessly gunned down, she discovers that the murder weapon is linked to the deaths of four of San Francisco’s most untouchable criminals. And it was taken from her own department’s evidence locker. Anyone could be the killer–even her closest friends.

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Dearie: The Remarkable Life of Julia Child by Bob Spitz.

In Bob Spitz’s definitive, wonderfully affectionate biography, the Julia we know and love comes vividly — and surprisingly — to life.  In Dearie, Spitz employs the same skill he brought to his best-selling, critically acclaimed book The Beatles, providing a clear-eyed portrait of one of the most fascinating and influential Americans of our time — a woman known to all, yet known by only a few.

And speaking of food. What did you (those who were on the cruise) think of the food?

Would Julia have approved of the grub on Independence of the Seas?

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Neptune’s Inferno: The U.S. Navy at Guadalcanal

First of all, how sexy are these guys??

Neptune’s Inferno: The U.S. Navy at Guadalcanal by James D. Hornfischer.

The Battle of Guadalcanal has long been heralded as a Marine victory. Now, with his powerful portrait of the Navy’s sacrifice, James D. Hornfischer tells for the first time the full story of the men who fought in destroyers, cruisers, and battleships in the narrow, deadly waters of “Ironbottom Sound.” Here, in stunning cinematic detail, are the seven major naval actions that began in August 1942, a time when the war seemed unwinnable and America fought on a shoestring, with the outcome always in doubt. Working from new interviews with survivors, unpublished eyewitness accounts, and newly available documents, Hornfischer paints a vivid picture of the officers and enlisted men who opposed the Japanese in America’s hour of need.

Pretty heady stuff!

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The Weird Sisters

The Weird Sisters by Eleanor Brown.

Three sisters have returned to their childhood home, reuniting the eccentric Andreas family. Here, books are a passion (there is no problem a library card can’t solve) and TV is something other people watch. Their father-a professor of Shakespeare who speaks almost exclusively in verse-named them after the Bard’s heroines. It’s a lot to live up to.

The sisters have a hard time communicating with their parents and their lovers, but especially with one another. What can the shy homebody eldest sister, the fast-living middle child, and the bohemian youngest sibling have in common? Only that none has found life to be what was expected; and now, faced with their parents’ frailty and their own personal disappointments, not even a book can solve what ails them…

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L’épreuve, Tome 1 : Le Labyrinthe

And as it was a truly International cruise…

L’épreuve, Tome 1 : Le Labyrinthe de James Dashner   is the French version of James Dashner’s The Maze Runner.

The first book in the New York Times bestselling Maze Runner series—The Maze Runner is a modern classic, perfect for fans of The Hunger Games and Divergent.

When Thomas wakes up in the lift, the only thing he can remember is his first name. His memory is blank. But he’s not alone. When the lift’s doors open, Thomas finds himself surrounded by kids who welcome him to the Glade—a large, open expanse surrounded by stone walls. Just like Thomas, the Gladers don’t know why or how they got to the Glade. All they know is that every morning the stone doors to the maze that surrounds them have opened. Every night they’ve closed tight. And every thirty days a new boy has been delivered in the lift. Thomas was expected. But the next day, a girl is sent up—the first girl to ever arrive in the Glade. And more surprising yet is the message she delivers.

I’ve never heard of Dashner’s series but it sounds interesting – in both French and English!

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Gilded Lives, Fatal Voyage: The Titanic’s First-Class Passengers and Their World

And this is what Your Humble Blogger was reading.

Seems appropos.

Gilded Lives, Fatal Voyage: The Titanic’s First-Class Passengers and Their World by Hugh Brewster.

The Titanic has often been called “an exquisite microcosm of the Edwardian era,” but until now, her story has not been presented as such. In Gilded Lives, Fatal Voyage, historian Hugh Brewster seamlessly interweaves personal narratives of the lost liner’s most fascinating people with a haunting account of the fateful maiden crossing. Employing scrupulous research and featuring 100 rarely-seen photographs, he accurately depicts the ship’s brief life and tragic denouement, presenting the very latest thinking on everything from when and how the lifeboats were loaded to the last tune played by the orchestra. Yet here too is a convincing evocation of the table talk at the famous Widener dinner party held in the Ritz Restaurant on the last night. And here we also experience the rustle of elegant undergarments as first-class ladies proceed down the grand staircase in their soigné evening gowns, some of them designed by Lady Duff Gordon, the celebrated couterière, who was also on board.

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Shirts and Skins

Look what I found!

Shirts and Skins by Jeffrey Luscombe

Shirts and Skins is a remarkable debut novel from Jeffrey Luscombe-a compelling series of linked stories of a young man’s coming-out, coming-of-age, and coming-to-terms with his family and fate. Josh Moore lives with his family on the ‘wrong side’ of Hamilton, a gritty industrial city in southwestern Ontario. As a young boy, Josh plots an escape for a better life far from the steel mills that lined the bay. But fate has other plans and Josh discovers his adult life in Toronto is just as fraught with as many insecurities and missteps as his youth and he soon learns that no matter how far away he might run, he will never be able to leave his hometown behind.

And I also signed one copy of  Shirts and Skins, and found another on a Kindle.

And finally…
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The Sun Also Rises by Earnest Hemmingway.
The quintessential novel of the Lost Generation, The Sun Also Rises is one of Ernest Hemingway’s masterpieces and a classic example of his spare but powerful writing style. A poignant look at the disillusionment and angst of the post-World War I generation, the novel introduces two of Hemingway’s most unforgettable characters: Jake Barnes and Lady Brett Ashley. The story follows the flamboyant Brett and the hapless Jake as they journey from the wild nightlife of 1920s Paris to the brutal bullfighting rings of Spain with a motley group of expatriates. It is an age of moral bankruptcy, spiritual dissolution, unrealized love, and vanishing illusions. First published in 1926, The Sun Also Rises helped to establish Hemingway as one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century.
Hopefully you found some inspiration – to. um, read.
Jeffrey, The Gay Groom

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Filed under atlantis cruise, Atlantis events, gay anniversary, gay beach, gay bears, gay blog, gay blogging, gay books, gay canada, gay cruise, gay cruise photos, gay groom, Independence of the Seas

Happy National Coming Out Day!

Already out?

Why not come out all over again to random strangers on the street?

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom

Leave a comment

Filed under coming out day, diana ross, gay blog, gay blogging, gay groom, gaygroom, i'm coming out, lgbt, national coming out day, october 11

Thanksgiving (with as Little Effort as Possible)

Ah, Thanksgiving!

The one day a year when we loosen the belts and eat like pigs without any guilt.  Well maybe not… it’s really one of many days in the year where we loosen the belts and eat like pigs without gilt.

For those that do no know, Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving on the second Monday in October.

Why do we celebrate Thanksgiving on the second Monday in October, you may ask?  I don’t know. Perhaps we do this just to be different.  Like the way we pronounce house and about.

Though the holiday is on Monday, most folks eat Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday.  Why do we eat Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday when the holiday is on Monday, you may ask?  To quote my mother (and almost every mother in the country): “I’m sure as hell not spending my day off cooking!”

So we eat on Sunday.

And this year Thanksgiving sneaked up on your humble blogger.  It seems like one day you’re celebrating Labour Day and the next you’re in the A&P body checking old ladies for the last turkey in the grocers freezer.

The thought of having to cook Thanksgiving dinner was not as intriguing this year as it may have been in the past.  And to be perfectly honest, I’m not much of a cook (to be perfectly perfectly honest, I hate cooking).   So I looked for some easy short-cuts that would enable me to get a Thanksgiving dinner on the table with as little time and effort from me as possible.

And to quote Kurt Vonnegut, “If you can do a half-assed job of anything, you’re a one-eyed man in a kingdom of the blind.”

My half-assesd Thanksgiving dinner

Step One:  Turkey in a box

I bought a Butterball frozen breast turkey.  No just any frozen turkey but a ‘no-defrost’, ‘no-baste’, ‘pre-stuffed’, ‘just-stick-the-goddam-thing-in-the-oven-and-forget-about-it’ turkey.   The instructions are simple: shove in the oven frozen and don’t touch for four hours.

Boom! You got your turkey!

Then your Reluctant Chef scooped out the pre-made stuffing from the turkey breast and tossed it on the plate.

Step Two: Cans and more cans

I made some mashed potatoes (really the most labour intensive part of the meal) and opened a can of corn and a can of carrots and a can of jellied cranberry sauce.

Boom! You got Thanksgiving side dishes!

Step Three: Frozen dessert

For dessert I picked up a pre-made frozen pie.   All I had to do was take it out of the box and throw it in the oven for 50 minutes.

Boom! You got dessert!

I actually took a photo of my pie and put it on my Facebook, Twitter and Google+ pages where it received RAVES!  People were impressed I could ‘make’ a pie.

‘Made’ with my own hands…

And my half-assed dinner notwithstanding, I do have a few things to be thankful for this year:

My dad, who has been battling Multiple Myeloma for the last three years is still doing well.

My novel, Shirts and Skins, has been doing really well. Allowing me to continue writing my second book.

Finally, The Gay Groom just celebrated his third wedding anniversary.

Who wouldn’t be thankful for that!

By the way, did I mention my Thanksgiving dinner turned out great?  Who would have believed it took practically no effort at all?

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom

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The 9/11 Anniversary Blog

To commemorate the day, this is my 9/11 Blog from last year…

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I wish I could remember what I did on September 10, 2001.

That is, before everything changed.  But we all thought that it was just another day.  We didn’t know it was the last day of… something.

Ten years ago I was working as a computer consultant at the UPS World Headquarters in Atlanta, Georgia.  I was not working the morning of September 11. I was expected to be in the office at noon that day.

Around 9:45am I woke up and turned on the television.  It took me a few minutes to understand what I was watching on the screen.  It was NBC.  The television screen was split in four sections. Matt Lauer was in one box on the screen, the two World Trade Center towers were in the second and third boxes.  There was smoke billowing out of the towers against a spectacularly blue sky. And the fourth box on the screen, in the bottom right, was the burning Pentagon.

Everything had changed, but I didn’t know it yet.

I turned on my old IBM Notebook.  There were emails from friends and family in Canada.  “What’s going on?”  “Has everything gone crazy down there?”  “Stay safe.”

I wrote them all back that I was fine.

There were horrific stories of people jumping from the towers (as many as 200 people jumped to their deaths that day).  It seemed unbelievable.  At 9:59, not long after waking, rubble seemed to fall from one of the towers.  At first someone on the news asked if part of the wall had fallen.

It was the entire South Tower.

And anyone who was watching that morning will tell you that right then something broke.

Then at 10:20am the North Tower fell.

I still wonder if 9/11 would have the emotional punch it has on us if those buildings hadn’t fallen.  If, like the Pentagon, they were cleaned up and fixed up and were still in the skyline of New York.  If…

But we’ll never know.

At noon I went to UPS as usual.  UPS was in North Atlanta and I was living close enough to walk to the the office.  I had learned that it was now impossible to get to downtown Atlanta; it had been closed (it would be days before the concrete barricades were removed allowing traffic back into the city).  The two large office building across the street from where I lived (called the King and Queen due to their resemblance to chess pieces) had been evacuated hours earlier.

When I arrived at work, it seemed like most people were still there working.  At some point that afternoon a woman ran from the office building in tears while I was having a cigarette (I still smoked in those days). No one said anything to the crying woman.  No one said anything to each other. Maybe we were all in shock.

It was eerily quite.

I’m not sure exactly when they sent us all home, but at some point the building was closed. It was sinking in. After work I walked to the grocery store and bought a couple of bottles of red wine.  I spent the next few weeks drinking far too much in the evenings.  Others tell me they were doing the same thing.  It seemed to be the only refuge from what was happening.  Television was saturated with 9/11 imagery and discussion for weeks. I wrote to friends in Canada saying how much I just wanted to see something vacuous again – so I could forget for a little while.

Front page of the Southern Voice, Sept21/01. That’s me in front with the blue shirt.

On September 14, once I was finally able to get downtown again, I was part of a candlelight vigil at Blake’s.  I got my photo in the Southern Voice.  The guy I was dating (my soon-to-be Partner… and my later-to-be Husband) flew down to see me the week after the attack.  He said there was hardly anyone on the plane from Toronto.

I was so very glad to see him.

My contract with UPS ended at the end of December and I didn’t renew it.  I had had enough of computers by then.  I wanted to come home – to family and friends… and the man who would eventually become my husband.

I also wanted to do something different.  Time seemed more important.  Life seemed more important.

But, strangely, those everyday things that used to take up so much time and effort suddenly seemed less important.  How could life’s tiny ups and downs have so much significance when I knew that there were people who had to decide whether to burn or jump that morning.

The next year I returned to The University of Toronto to earn a BA (and ultimately an MA) in English.

Then I wrote a book.

I don’t think I would have done it without 9/11 shaking me to my foundations.

There were a total of 2,996 deaths, including the 19 hijackers (which I actually do not like to include) and 2,977 victims. The victims included 246 on the four planes (from which there were no survivors) and 2,606 in New York City in the towers and on the ground, and 125 at the Pentagon.

I’ll never forget.

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom

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Skipping Pride

First I should say that I am a big fan of Gay Pride.

In fact, I was Priding when Priding wasn’t cool. Your Humble Blogger has marched, danced, ran in the Pride 5K, partied till dawn, got sunburned, rained on, injured, and have been drunk as a skunk, high as a kite, told I was going to hell by religious nuts, and screwed like a bunny.

Seriously, I’m a big fan.

See Pride photos from last years Pride

But I’m just not feeling it this year. It’s not that I’m anti-Pride like those grumpy gays that bitch about Pride being too radical, or not radical enough or too sexual or not sexual enough, or too corporate or… well, you’ve heard it all before. It seems like the only thing gay men agree upon is our mutual admiration of… well… you know.

I’m just not in a Pride mood this year.

Some years are like that. A few years back the Husband and I left town completely for a quiet weekend at a B&B in Stratford, Ontario to see The Tempest and Oklahoma. Another year we took the train to Niagara Falls for the weekend.

This year we aren’t leaving town but just… kind of avoiding it.

Tomorrow we will likely walk the opposite direction for a quiet coffee in the university campus instead of one in the overcrowded Church Street area. We will read some, nap some, and watch TV while the constant THUMP THUMP THUMP from the street dance on Church rattles our windows almost a mile away.

By the way, has anyone else noticed how that whole “rave generation” is beginning to show its age? But I digress.

I will, however, be doing one Pride event: On Sunday I will be having brunch with my niece (who is coming in from a small town in Quebec for Pride). That is a nice quiet moment in Pride that I can get into this year.

So perhaps I will be more interested in the party next year but for now, just let me wish you all a, “Happy Pride”… from a distance.

So tell me, have you ever skipped Pride?

Jeffrey, The Gay Groom

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