Category Archives: The Early Years

All Plans are Subject to Change…

Posted on May 21, 2007 | Leave a comment

I’m fickle. This is really no surprise to anyone who knows me personally. I mean… I am really fickle. I am so fickle that even the most seemingly mundane decisions in life can present me with almost insurmountable choices.

Let’s just take this blog entry, for instance. What you wouldn’t know is that I went through about 5 different titles, 10 different moods, and who knows how many categories before deciding on what you are reading. The only thing certain was that I am listening to ABBA currently. But that was easy, I just had to check Itunes.

My friend Jaclyn has put up with years of hearing me say: “Sure, I’ll go to the store with you…but, remember, all plans are subject to change until further notice!” Now, I realize that she was just wanting me to come to the grocery store with her; but, you know, things can change. What if I decide that I don’t want to go to the store–halfway to the store? Then what? I should just let her know in advance that I might change my mind and she would have to bring me back home. I’m just trying to be polite.

And, I have always been this way. When I was in third grade, we were given the assignment of writing a letter to Santa Claus. I was still sitting at my desk when it was time for recess. All I had written was, “Dear Santa, I want…” What was I supposed to write next? This was a life-altering decision. Did I want that old desk or the blue typewriter?

(please refer to my previous blog entry, “I’m Special”, for an explanation of why a third grader would want either.)

I’m not sure why I am so tormented by making decisions. I am jealous of those people who can say that they know what they want and then they go for it. But, that is not the way I am wired. I will probably spend my whole life trying to decide if I want Italian food for dinner or possibly Japanese…you know, Thai kind of sounds good…

p.s. I got the old desk for Christmas. But, luckily, the blue typewriter arrived for my birthday two months later.

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Posted in Humor, My Life, The Early Years

I’m Special

Posted on May 15, 2007 | 1 comment

I was a weird kid. Odd. I fully admit it. I didn’t fully grow out of it–I do still have some strange tendancies. Like, having to turn the lights in my place on and back off again just to make sure that I turned them off in the first place. And, I have become really good at hiding my tendancies. My boyfriend Jeff is really grateful for this, I’m sure. However, for the sake of maintaining some dignity, I’ll refrain from fully disclosing too many of my adult “tics” right now.

But, back to my childhood, it was scary enough. Like the time at church camp when I decided to see how far I could pull my pants down before someone noticed. (This was long before it was en vogue to wear one’s pants around their knees.) Much to the horror of several other kids playing 4-square, I made it to about mid-thigh.

I guess I should be thankful that my parents simply allowed me to be… special. I think that’s how my mom put it. Special. I love that word. Special. It is just about the nicest way to say that someone has some serious issues that might require medication someday. “Don’t mind Tyler . . . he’s . . . special.” Actually, I don’t think my mom actually even said that to anyone. She just said it to me. And, well, it made me feel . . . special. Which is exactly how a kid should feel.

And she put up with a lot of my “specialness” because I loved to perform. Not necessarily for a crowd or for family members, which I was asked to on many occasions. I loved to perform for myself. So, I created these routines in the “privacy” of our front yard. It’s amazing how oblivious I was as a kid. I wish I still had a little of that cluelessness.

I would sometimes take my clarinet out front and create marching band routines. Sometimes–and I’m sure this made everyone cringe–I would take a broomstick with fabric tied to the end and create routines. I loved the high school drill team–sequins, flags and all. And, that’s where I was . . . in my head.

During the cold Iowa winter months, I would take my routines to the basement. The great thing about this was that I could strap on my roller-skates and few extra pieces of flare, maybe a skirt, and perform away. The down side was the ceiling. I had a bad habit of accidentally breaking out the light bulbs during the height of my drill team routines. I was never punished for any of this . . . and compared to other stories I hear from gay people. I was extremely fortunate.

Truly the only surprise here is that anyone in my family was surprised to find out that I was gay! My mother passed away in 1998 after a battle with cancer and multiple other health problems. I never told her that I was gay, which I do regret. But, all that matters is that I know she thought I was special. And that’s how she paved the way for me to really accept me for who I am.

Thanks mom!

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Posted in Family, Gay, Humor, My Life, The Early Years

Easter in the Castro

Posted on April 12, 2007 | Leave a comment

Okay, so check it out dawg. (Soooo sorry, just having a Randy Jackson moment) Easter was last Sunday. I have always thought that Easter was an interesting holiday. For you to understand why I feel this way, I should probably give a little history…

I grew up in a your typical midwestern christian family–which will provide many more stories to come. So, anyway, Easter always involved a certain amount of pageantry. First, we were dressed up in our matching (all 4 of us) Easter outfits. Now, mind you, we were a poor farming family, so, this was quite a feat in and of itself. But, nevertheless, we wore matching Easter outfits. Usually, a very nice shade of baby blue or some other Easter color that worked really well with my skin tone. After we were fully dressed, we were paraded out to the front of the house to take pictures. All four of us usually looked completely pissed off, in my opinion. We were then carted off to church to show off our new clothes. Afterward, there was some sort of Easter feast followed by digging through the front bushes and grass for candy. All pretty standard, really. I don’t think we really understood what all the hoopla was about.

Rush ahead 25 years. My boyfriend and I are strolling through Dolores Park in SF one beautiful Sunday afternoon. What a scene! Drag queens dressed to kill, groups of friends high as a kite, a girl on a stage singing songs about pussies, and good looking men dressed up like hunky Jesuses.

You can understand why I think Easter is such a bizarre holiday.

I guess if I had to choose, I would have to say that I prefer the latter version of Easter. Although they really aren’t that different. You know all of the pageantry and such. Church ladies who look like drag queens, groups of friends high as a kite. However, I would be hard-pressed to find any example from my childhood of anyone singing songs about the female anatomy. And lets get real, Jesus was a hunk in his little loin cloth. It was always exciting to see which cute guy was going to play the role of Jesus in the Easter pageant, wearing nothing but a itsy bitsy teenie weenie…did I just say weenie?

Come to think of it, Easter is definitely one of my favorite holidays…

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Posted in Gay, My Life, The Early Years