The Story of My Life (So Far)

Where Am I Now?

Now I am retired and receiving Social Security and the Long Term Disability insurance I had the presence of mind to sign up as soon as I got hired on at Wells Fargo. It’s not as much money as I am used to making, but it will get me by.

My roommate Jim has been one of the most positive influences in my life. We have lived together since 1994. We are not lovers, and never have been. But he’s like the little brother I never had. More accurately, I think of us as being like two old spinster sisters living together; all we need now is a dozen cats. We take care of each other: he makes sure I keep up with my AIDS treatment, and I help keep an eye on his diabetes and Parkinsons. We’ll probably be together until one of us dies. I have trouble convincing some people that Jim and I are not lovers, never have been, and never will be. For one thing, he snores. One of our fellow choristers who knows us better summed it up when he said we are “insignificant others.”

In March 2007, Jim and I welcomed a new member to our home, a handsome American Bombay cat named Brody that we found at the Hennepin County Humane Society. Characteristic of his breed, he’s a very friendly, loving cat, and his antics can be so cute, especially when I get out my laser pointer; he loves chasing that little red dot. One of the talking points Jim used to talk me into getting him was that he could keep me company when I was home alone. Jim was right about that one. We let him keep the name he came with, though he has a couple of nicknames: “Brody the Boo,” “Brody-Boo” or sometimes just “Boo.” (Sometimes when cleaning his litter box, I call him “Sir Poops-A-Lot”)

His Majesty seems quiet happy here. After all, this is his house now, but he lets Jim and me live here… as long as we feed him, of course.

Jim and I both sing in the Twin Cities Gay Men’s Chorus; Jim was a member for a year before I joined. We both sing in the upper bass section, which is convenient, since it means we can study our music together. It’s interesting considering my father was a tenor and my mother was a soprano.

Being in the Chorus has been great, as it gives me not only an outlet for creative expression, but an amazing network of friends.

One of the most rewarding experiences the Chorus has exposed me to was the chance to perform in the world premiere of Through A Glass, Darkly, a work we commissioned from New York composer Michael Shaieb, which explores the effects of methamphetamine addiction on the gay community through the lives of three young men touched by it. Having almost fallen into the trap of meth addiction myself once, I feel I found some redemption through the project.

Now that I am retired from gainful employment, music is all I have left, and I have embraced it, not only through inging in the chorus but learning to read music and taking the guitar back up after not playing for many years. (I call my guitar “Eddie,” which is short for the mnemonic I use to remember the strings: “Eddie Ate Dynamite… Good Bye, Eddie.”) I hope I can get to be good enough to perform with the chorus someday. Or maybe make a few bucks playing on a street corner. If only I could master playing an “F” chord (I never could get the hang of it). The one song I can play from start to finish is Don McLean’s “American Pie.”

While I once took pride in the fact that I was not dependent on social service programs to survive, those days are gone. I am pleased to be associated with several very good organizations for people with AIDS, especially The Aliveness Project and Open Arms of Minnesota. Together with my disability income, I manage.

What I’ve Learned

Life has taught me many valuable lessons. The three most important are:

• Never pass up a free meal or a free drink.
• Never feed a stray puppy.
• If you want to do something, do it now, or forever wish you had.

But the most important thing I’ve learned is that I still have much to learn.

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