Bohemedude's Page

2011-07-04T12:57:00.000-07:00

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Today marks the anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence 235 years ago. Thomas Jefferson, in his great wisdom, penned the words which have become the cornerstone upon which this great nation has been built. As a young boy learning about the Founding Fathers and the American Revolution in elementary school, I truly believed that I lived in a free country, where a boy or girl could grow up to become whatever he or she chose. I believed that I would live in a country where my inalienable rights would not only be protected, but would also be held as a sacred gift granted to me by my Creator. I imagined a life that would be rich and fulfilling, a true pursuit of happiness.

As a young boy, I was aware that I was different than the other boys in my school. Although I knew nothing about sexual orientation, I did know that I didn't share the same interest in rough and tumble games that the other boys played. I wasn't the least bit athletic and preferred music and art classes to recess and PE. As I grew into adolescence, these differences became more defined and along with them came a profound awareness of same-sex attraction and the word "gay." Like many other young gay men, I quickly retreated into the closet, and I lived there until I turned 31. Living and working in western South Dakota presented a multitude of challenges to my ability and willingness to embrace my sexual orientation as anything but a curse. I could not fathom living an openly gay life, and although I ached inside for an opportunity to live my life with honesty and authenticity, doing so would require overcoming insurmountable obstacles.

Now, 11 years later, I live in San Francisco with my life-partner, Freddie, and I am happy. Freddie and I were legally married in San Francisco on September 12, 2008, after the California Supreme Court lifted the ban on same-sex marriage on May 15, 2008. In November of 2008, opponents of Marriage Equality successfully passed Proposition 8, a law which once again effectively stripped gay men and women of their inalienable right to pursue happiness. Because Freddie and I were married during the time when same-sex marriage was legal, the courts declared that our marriage would remain intact.

Today as Americans across the nation gather to celebrate independence and freedom, I find myself wondering how my own observance of this day can be little more than a lie. Don't get me wrong, I love being an American. I AM a fan of democracy. I find myself getting weepy when I hear our National Anthem. And, I will never forget the sight of our beautiful flag draped over the casket of my father and the pride he felt in serving his country. But, as a gay man living in the United States, I cannot say that I feel completely free or that I have equal rights.

LGBT Americans have been fighting their own revolution for centuries. Some of the battles have been very public, and others have been quite private. We fight our way out of the closet and into the light. Some have to fight for dignity and respect within their own families. Others have fought to be able to work and live in the communities of their choosing. And, the fight for Marriage Equality continues across this country.

When Freddie and I decided to get married, I'm not sure I was aware that we were doing anything revolutionary. Yet, in speaking our vows at San Francisco's City Hall, we enlisted in the army of all of those brave men and women who have stood up to the hatred and bigotry of those who have attempted to rob us of our human dignity.

As I sit here and reflect on my life on this beautiful Fourth of July in San Francisco, I wonder how I, as a gay American, should feel about this day. Are we truly free when LGBT citizens can still be fired in some states for being gay? Are we truly free when corporations can still choose whether or not they will extend medical benefits to same-sex couples? Are we free when LGBT couples who have built a life together are kept from truly inheriting the estates of a deceased partner? Are we free when teachers are not allowed to speak about homosexuality in the classroom? Are we free when LGBT parents are not allowed to share legal custody of a child they have raised together? Are we free when countless LGBT Americans have to fight to live our lives openly and without shame in a country that we continue to support with our tax dollars and the invaluable contributions we make to society?

I was 7 years old in 1976 when America celebrated her Bicentennial. I still remember that Fourth of July celebration and sitting around the table with my family as my father showed me the special quarter that had been issued to commemorate the event. It saddens me greatly to realize that my childhood awe and reverence for this country and what it represents has become tarnished by disillusionment.

2011-03-02T21:37:00.000-08:00

in my dream

everyone said i was dying

but i would not go to death

all i remember were the colors

and the light in my eyes

that refused to dim

refused to be swept away

in the current

of their voices

subtle, yet so demanding

in my dream

everyone said i was dying

but i awoke to find

i was giving birth

to my self

2010-03-07T01:56:00.000-08:00

I am an openly gay man... And, I am a Catholic. To many people, the two worlds...the two "lifestyles," if you will, should be mutually exclusive. But, in my heart, they are not. I did not stop believing in God the day I "came out of the closet." And, the Church I grew up in and learned to love as a young man continues to call to me with Her Sacraments and Mysteries. As much as I have struggled with my identity as a Catholic--especially in the face of such discrimination as Proposition 8, I have continued to remind myself that the foundation of the Church is built on the promises of Christ. I have been able to come to terms with the fact that the hierarchy of the Church is comprised of men who are imperfect (despite the claim that the Pope is infallible). While there is much that I would change about the Church and much that seems downright wrong to me--like the fact that women cannot be ordained priests, I continue to love the ritual of the Church. And, I have found that being a Catholic feeds a part of my soul and enriches my belief in Christ in a way that is important to me. It is a connection to my roots and my family. So, I consider myself a very progressive and liberal Catholic--but a Catholic nonetheless.

Today, as I was watching the local news in San Francisco with my partner, we noticed a headline traveling across the bottom of the screen on the "ticker." It read..."Denver Catholic school boots the children of gay parents." It seems that a preschool student at Sacred Heart of Jesus school in Boulder, Colorado was refused re-enrollment in the school because his/her parents are lesbians.

My partner, Freddie, is a convert to Catholicism--or should I call him my husband since we were married in September 2008, before the passage of Prop 8. Freddie joined the Church in the 80's as a gay man living in Los Angeles. He was introduced to the Church by some very pastoral priests who had been instrumental in helping the gay community deal with the AIDS epidemic. I am a "cradle Catholic" and have recently had to defend my continued love of the Church to Freddie who has become completely fed-up with the Church's stand on issues like same-sex marriage. It was Freddie who pointed out the headline at the bottom of the screen, doing so with his typical distain for the bigotry of the Church. For me, the news re-opened an old wound.

This story hits way too close to home for me. Archbishop Charles Chaput of Denver and Richard Thompson, Superintendent of the Catholic Schools in Denver are two people I know quite well. They both served the Rapid City–West River Diocese in South Dakota. Richard Thompson hired me to be the music teacher of the Catholic schools in Rapid City in 1994. It was a job I loved. I was an excellent teacher. I was respected by my students and colleagues. And, I even got letters from both Mr. Thompson and Bishop Charles (as we called him) commending me on my wonderful Christmas programs and the role model I was to the students. I have wonderfully fond memories of being a part of the Catholic schools and sharing my faith with my students. I had expected to teach at Seton school forever...maybe even retire from there.

But…a parent wrote an anonymous letter to the superintendent questioning my sexual orientation. I was in the midst of a divorce, and while I knew I was gay, I was struggling with what I felt was a call to holiness. I didn't think living my life openly as a gay man was an option for me. I had explored my sexuality during that time, and I was seen at an adult bookstore that was frequented by gay men. I was not doing anything that was illegal (I was nearly 30 at the time)...or truly immoral really (I was basically single--not cheating on my wife). Yet, this anonymous letter implied that because I might be gay and had been seen at this adult bookstore (by someone who was clearly at the bookstore as well), I must be a pedophile. The letter further demanded that I be immediately removed from my teaching post or the writer would go to the bishop.

I remember sitting in Dick Thompson's office and being handed the letter to read. I remember coming clean about being at the bookstore and the struggles and confusion I was experiencing. And, I remember that Mr. Thompson attempted to be compassionate as he told me that the school board would have to meet to decide my fate. I was not given the opportunity to defend myself before the school board. Instead, I was asked to resign ultimately because the powers that be were afraid of what might happen if the anonymous letter writer would go to the bishop. The elementary school principal sat in the office and wept as I was being told that I was basically unfit to teach the students I loved. I remember her saying, "Jerome, you're one of our best teachers. I love you and this breaks my heart." I wasn't allowed to say goodbye to my students or the staff of the school who were like a family to me. They were told nothing--just that I was resigning.

I left my teaching post at St. Elizabeth Seton School in 2000. Later, Richard Thompson "left" his position as superintendent and moved to Denver to work with the newly ordained Archbishop Charles. The two are now the leaders of the Catholic school system that has refused to re-enroll a preschooler because his/her parents are lesbians. The story is all too familiar...especially because the players are the same. They are standing behind some policy that the parents of their students are expected to abide by the policies of the school and the Church. (Many bloggers and activists have posed the obvious questions of divorce and birth control). To me, it just seems like another Church-sanctioned witch hunt.

I am now an openly gay man living in San Francisco…and I’m also a practicing Catholic who loves the Church. I have found a lot of beauty and grace in the Sacraments. Luckily, I’m able to worship with the LGBT community in San Francisco at a wonderful parish. Most Holy Redeemer Church--SF. I have worked really hard to move on from this experience. I sometimes find myself deeply troubled by the fact that much of the good work I did with the students seems to have been negated in the eyes of some because I'm gay. Then, I remember that I do not need anyone's approval. I also remind myself of the AWESOME contributions that gay men and women have made to the Church.

The Sistine Chapel was painted by Michelangelo, the same man who carved the breathtaking Pieta. Who would question Michelangelo's faith and relationship with God after gazing upon the image of Mary holding her crucified Son? Michelangelo was GAY!!! Many of the songs we sing at Mass each Sunday were written by gay men and women. In fact, if you attend a convention of the National Pastoral Musicians, you'll most likely notice that there are a lot of gay men and women working as Church musicians.

I can understand that many people think that gay Catholics, like me, should abandon our faith. I've heard the argument that it's ludicrous to want to be a part of a group that discriminates so openly against who you are. But, I think we need to stand up and be noticed. I refuse to let the ignorance of some keep me from worshipping my God in whatever way I choose. I believe in Christ and God…not the hierarchy of the fallible Church. I will not let the ignorance of some keep me from my faith. I'm fighting back. These people who practice bigotry in the name of Christ must be stopped! I am a Gay man because God created me that way...and I am a Catholic by my baptism and my belief in the Church. AMEN!!!

2009-09-05T16:37:00.001-07:00

This was one of the highlights of our trip to Paris. I had read a fabulous book by Tracy Chevalier called The Lady and the Unicorn which tells the story (fictitious of course) of these beautiful tapestries. The tapestries are breathtaking!

2009-07-10T23:26:00.001-07:00

When I was in Paris, I made a special point of finding the replica of the Statue of Liberty. It stands on the banks of the Seine facing toward the original statue in New York. I shot this photo in Paris. This image was created using the Pop Art app on my iPhone.

2009-05-20T23:32:00.001-07:00

It's been a few weeks since I've returned to San Francisco after a lovely trip to Europe. Weeks have passed since that first moment when I saw Paris and felt her grace, her energy, her seductive way. I miss her.

2009-02-15T00:38:00.000-08:00

Dreaming of Amsterdam...

2009-01-29T19:00:00.001-08:00

Loving Adele

Whenever a new vocalist steps into the American musical arena, music critics and DJs are tempted to classify the vocal style or to make comparisons. It's only natural, I suppose, as we all tend to relate that which is new to that which is familiar. British singer-songwriter, Adele Adkins, is one such artist--relatively new on the music scene, at least in this country. There is a problem with Adele, however. Her voice and style are incomparable and difficult to categorize.

For a music lover with completely eclectic musical tastes like mine, classification of Adele's album titled simply 19 is easy. I have filed it under "Music I LOVE." Adele is an "old soul," writing with sophistication and musical awareness well beyond that of her twenty-something contemporaries.

I first discovered Adele when she appeared on SNL. Like most Saturday nights, I had fallen asleep shortly after the opening monologue and first sketches. Luckily, I woke up just in time to see Adele singing "Chasing Pavements." The song seemed very familiar to me, and I was sure I'd heard it before. And yet, I could not place it. That's the thing about this music; it seems comfortably familiar and fresh all at the same time.

Adele's 19 is a rich collection of soulful ballads and laidback, yet sophisticated pop tunes. Adele proves herself to be both a serious musician (playing bass and acoustic guitar) and a playful young adult. Her lyrics are thoughtful. With the exception of one Bob Dylan cover, all of the selections were written or co-written by AdeleThe musical arrangements are multi-layered. One of my favorites, "Cold Shoulder," features snare drum riffs reminiscent of a marching band. Listen carefully and you'll even hear a glockenspiel. The use of orchestral strings adds a level of maturity and elegance that sets this music apart from the offerings of two other young female singers, Colbie Caillat and Sara Bareilles. The music is fresh and unpredictable with clever use of changing rhythms and tempos. But what stands out, above all else, is Adele's richly unique voice. It's an amazing blend of that smoky, developed voice of a seasoned blues singer and the youthful, almost angelic tones of an adolescent girl. .

"Chasing Pavements" is getting some airplay on stations here in San Francisco. But, I don't think it will be a huge hit. This is music for more refined tastes. If you loved Corinne Bailey Rae ... check it out. If you prefer a steady diet of Brittney or Madonna, skip this one. You just won't get it.

Favorite tracks:
Chasing Pavements
Best for Last
Cold Shoulder
Make You Feel My Love (B. Dylan)

Amazon.com Widgets

Our 44th President... Our Hope

2009-01-20T22:48:00.000-08:00

President Barack Obama... So wonderful to say that...

2009-01-20T22:35:00.001-08:00

America has a new President... And, all day long I've been hoping to have a moment of quiet time to sit and reflect upon what this historic day means to me.

It's 10:00 PM... A typical Tuesday in a typical work week. I left the office late and arrived at the muni station only to find that the trains were delayed. Tomorrow will be a busy day...An important meeting with a new client... Lunch with a business colleague... Much to do!

Barack Obama is the 44th President of the USA!

There is change and hope in the air. You can feel it. It's like knowing the showers are coming because of the chill in the air and the way the breeze smells of rain. In the midst of all that is amiss in our country and in our world, we take pause to celebrate. We celebrate our collective faith in the leadership of a great man, a man who is like us, a man who has known the challenges of poverty, a man who believed in America's promise. Barack Obama has inspired a people--weary and dejected-- to raise our voices once again and to believe in the ideals of democracy.

Today is a day that will go down in history. Not only has the greatest country on Earth inaugurated her first African-American president, but the citizens of that same nation have also found a great unity. There is an overwhelming sense of synergy all about. You can literally feel it on the streets. This is a moment of serendipitous elation. As a nation, we have many challenges ahead. We will have to weather a multitude of storms. But, there is a mighty captain at the helm of our ship.

I have never felt such pride in being an American. My personal vote has never meant more to me. Today is a great day for President Barack Obama and for America!

Oh happy day! Talking 'bout a happy day!

2009-01-15T19:49:00.001-08:00

I didn't grow up in the city. Sturgis, South Dakota--population 6000-- is a small town by most standards. And, for the first 31 years of my life. Sturgis and nearby municipality, Rapid City, were home. In a million years, I would never have imagined that one day I would live in San Francisco. I guess stranger things have indeed happened because here I am.

Now, on most days, I am thrilled to live in the city. I mean, what's not to love? City life has so much to offer--art museums, theatre, amazing shopping, fabulous restaurants, and cultural diversity. If you have been blessed with even the slightest sense of adventure or a mild case of curiosity, living in a city like San Francisco is like feasting on a smorgasbord of interesting encounters of every kind imaginable. I have lived in this beautiful city almost five years now, and I still find myself in awe of all it is and can be.

It's clear; I love city life. I have come to believe that i was truly born to live in this city. But there are days like today when I long for Sturgis-- population 6000. On days like these I am irritated by the thing that makes a city a city... People!

Please do not misunderstand. I like people. Really... I love people. I might even go so far as to say that I NEED people. That may actually make me one of the luckiest people in the world. On most days that is... But today... Today some people are really getting on my freakin' nerves.

Street musicians... If I wanted to hear some overweight wannabe punk rocker sing "Walk the Line," I'd tune into the Season 8 American Idol auditions. At least then I have the satisfaction of hearing Simon Cowell tell the poor soul the truth. "That was dreadful!" And seriously, the didgeridoo isn't exactly a solo instrument. Oh, and the dreadlocks and rasta hat don't make you seem counter-cultural or interesting. They simply scream "Unemployed!"

Public Transportation... Those slivers of light between our bodies? Yeah... That's our breathing room. It doesn't mean there's room for you to get on the train. What's the deal? Hasn't anyone heard about the concept of "Personal Body Space?" I sure hope that's the handle of that man's umbrella that's poking me in the ass.

Dining Out... Dining in a restaurant is supposed to be a quiet, relaxing experience. And, it can be. But, all too often there is a table where at least one patron refuses to use an "indoor voice." Is what you have to say so interesting that you feel the need to broadcast it throughout the entire place? Doubtful!! And, please...I shouldn't be able to hear you chewing at my table. I think they should issue permits or licenses allowing a few select people the privilege of dining in public. McDonald's--Now that's dining for the masses... Otherwise, if you haven't read Emily Post, order in!

It appears that I am on a roll...and I could go on forever. But, I'll save myself the time and frustration of enumerating all of the ways people bug the shit out of me. Besides, I have to psyche myself up for the Muni ride home. At least... It's FRIDAY!

Namaste...
Jerome

Tuesday of the Most Stressful Day of My Life

2009-01-14T00:03:00.001-08:00

Into every life, some stress must fall. It just sort of goes with the territory, right? I mean, life moves along at the speed of light. The obligations and duties are countless. Family... Career... Friends... Keeping a house... Running errands... Doing the laundry... Preparing meals... Seems there isn't a lot of time left over for simply "being." In a world that literally spins through space, how do we carve out some space for ourselves?

My mother likes to tell me that everything happens for a reason. I think she honestly believes that. Perhaps it's an expression of her faith in some power beyond our world that acts in mysterious ways. I'm sure Mom would call that power God. While I do believe in God, I'm finding that my belief is a bit more far reaching and has a broader scope now than it once had. I do not subscribe to my mother's philosophy. I think that many things that happen to us and around us are truly random. Those things may happen as a result of our own poor choices or as a result of our interaction with someone who happened upon our paths. Whatever their cause, I am hard-pressed to believe that some God is playing a cosmic game of chess with our lives. I do believe, however, that each moment of our lives is an opportunity to learn a lesson.

This week I'm learning about shrugging off stress and keeping my eyes focused on what truly matters in life. I have to take a certification exam for work on Friday. I've been studying for months, and even so, I'm feeling some anxiety. I'm down to the last few dollars in my checking account and pay day is a few days away. I've got a writing deadline for some freelance work looming overhead. To top it all off, I lost my wallet tonight.

I should be freaking out and incensed at the inconvenience of having to cancel credit cards, order a new gym ID card, and stand on line at the DMV to get a new drivers license. Instead, I'm realizing that a little bit of hassle can truly make one stop, look, and listen. I will have to make adjustments in my life for a few weeks. But, I am capable of making those adjustments. I am savvy enough to solve these problems. In the grand scheme of things--especially in these times of economic hardship-- I'm pretty lucky.

2008-11-03T23:30:00.001-08:00

2008-10-26T19:39:00.001-07:00

Not feeling well today. So spent the afternoon curled up with my favorite TV show. Love SATC... Nothing like some Carrie and Mr. Big drama.

2008-10-17T09:03:00.001-07:00

I am not a psychologist, nor do I claim to be an expert in the field of psychoanalysis. I am, however, a keen observer and student of human nature. I am also quite intuitive and have always been able to see well below the surface of a matter. There are things I simply know...just because I do.

If John McCain is elected to the presidency, America can essentially
pack her bags and go home. This country's reputation as a respected and revered world leader will be damaged beyond repair. My claim is daunting; I know. But, I call it as I see it. And, eight years of "The
Decider" are incomparable to what may be in store for us with "The
Maverick."

As a young student of literature, I learned two terms that were associated with the protagonist in Greek tragedy and those of Shakespeare-- hubris and hamartia. Hubris is a word that refers to excessive pride. This is the sort of pride that goes entirely unchecked until it becomes extreme arrogance. In a tragedy, hubris typically becomes hamartia or tragic flaw, the character defect which is so profound that it eventually leads to the cataclysmic downfall of the protagonist. Anyone who has read Oedipus Rex or MacBeth knows how things end up. I don't think I'm out of line in suggesting that Senator John McCain's way of being might resemble hubris.

Like most Americans and people all around the world, really, I've been watching the 2008 Presidential Election unfold. While politics has never really interested me before, this time around, I'm paying attention. In some ways, I may be more hyper-focused on this political race than I have been with previous elections. It is abundantly clear to me that the American people simply cannot cast their votes haphazardly. As I've said before, thinking Americans must take the lead and ensure that Barack Obama is elected this election day, November 4.

Sarah Palin likes to toss out the question, "Who is Barack Obama?" It is a fair question to ask. In fact, it's a necessary question to ask. If you've watched the debates, you know the answer to that question. For a moment, let's put policy and political platform aside and ask that question on a fundamental level. Who is Barack Obama? What I saw in Wednesday night's debate speaks volumes. Senator Obama is intelligent and articulate. He's also a man of integrity and good judgment, and he possesses a calm, collected demeanor. The man seems unshakable.

And to be fair, we must also ask "Who is John McCain?" Senator McCain is a smart man. His military service to the US, and his career in the Senate are certainly indicators of a level of patriotism that inspires his Republican base. He is the self-proclaimed "Maverick" who promises change on the one hand while waving the flag of the Neocons who hijacked this country eight years ago with the other hand. His campaign has been built on attacks and fingerpointing at "That One." He patronizes and condescends while puffing up his chest and saying, "I know how to fix Washington."

November 4 is just a few weeks around the corner, and each of us will have the opportunity to cast our vote. As an electorate, we must be diligent about weeding through the rhetoric and propaganda to find the facts. We must take attack ads and propaganda at face value and not be swayed by attempts to skew reality and incite fear. We must strike a balance between emotion and reason and trust the latter to inform our decision on all of the issues placed before us on the ballot. Most importantly, we must look beyond our own special interests, our biases, and our personal agendas to see the bigger picture. Armed with the facts and a thorough understanding of all that is at stake, we must each cast the vote of a lifetime.

2008-10-09T00:33:00.001-07:00

My mother first taught me to knit one winter. I think I was in the 5th
grade. I tried to make a scarf, but I kept on adding stitches somehow. The scarf kept getting wider and wider.

Now, a few decades later, I have made quite a hobby of knitting. I'm close to finishing my first sweater. And, I just finished this scarf. I'll give it to my friend Sabrina as a birthday gift.

Knitting is truly a beautiful folk art. Working the needles and yarn create such lovely patterns and textures takes on a bit of a
meditative quality. Perhaps one day someone will further that argument in a treatise entitled Zen & the Art of Knitting. I shall not be surprised if someone already has!

New Rule

2008-10-07T21:56:00.001-07:00

Stop calling me your friend...

2008-10-06T09:12:00.001-07:00

On my way to the office on the F Market streetcar because the
underground was a mess. If I had not changed my plans this morning, I might still be waiting for a train. Par for the course. Nevertheless, I love this city. It took a little time before it felt like home, but now it is clearly where I belong.

Here is a shot of my street.

2008-10-05T17:39:00.000-07:00

Change... Progress... Hope! Politics has never really interested me. But, I cannot imagine another moment of the covert oppression that has been inflicted on the American people by the Bush administration. It's time for a resurgence of true democracy.

2008-10-05T16:02:00.000-07:00

Fashion Forward Vintage Men's Wear on Market Street--San Francisco. The proprietor has a great eye.

2008-10-05T15:56:00.000-07:00

My favorite of all the street fairs in SF is the annual Castro Street Fair. Held each fall on the first Sunday in October in the neighborhood I love, this event features local artists and community organizations, taking to the streets to celebrate the local color of the Castro. I shot this picture as I was window shopping at Sui Generis.

2008-10-05T12:06:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I got my very first tattoo. The artist was Shadow at Gotham in San Francisco. The design is Sanskrit which says "Om mani padme hum." This is known as the mantra of compassion and translates as "Hail to the jewel in the lotus blossom." A lotus symbolizes a primitive being's evolution to a spiritual being. Namaste!

2008-10-03T17:50:00.000-07:00

Save Us from Sarah!

By now, most of you have probably seen Tina Fey’s portrayal of Vice Presidential nominee, Governor Sarah Palin, on Saturday Night Live a few weeks ago. Clips of the sketch, which also features Amy Pohler as Senator Hillary Clinton, have been receiving thousands of hits on YouTube and the NBC website. It’s one of the funniest skits I’ve seen in a long time. Tina Fey played Sarah Palin perfectly with flawless imitations of Palin’s mannerisms and vocal inflections. And, of course, the resemblance is beyond uncanny.

Shows like Saturday Night Live and Mad TV thrive on parody and caricature portrayals of celebrities and political figures. These performances are always built around satire and exaggerations. Before Sarah Palin stepped onto the political stage, I had believed that our current president had most likely been the greatest source of material for comedians and satirists. But after watching last night’s vice presidential debate, I am pretty sure my assessment was completely wrong. What’s more, I realized that Fey’s performance was scarily too close to reality.

Without a doubt, this election is the most crucial one the American people have seen in decades. Consider all that is at stake—an economy that is plummeting so fast that Wall Street brokers are wearing hardhats, countless Americans living without health insurance, an education system that is clearly leaving too many children behind, and wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. It’s beyond mind-boggling.

I have never been interested in politics at all. I always sort of preferred my Ivory Tower. My interest in the news stopped at reading about celebrities and pop culture. It has taken eight years of George W. Bush for me to wake up and take my responsibilities as a US citizen and voter seriously. Living with a partner who loves politics has also been much like emersion education.

I anticipated the Biden/Palin debate with somewhat the same excitement that I typically reserve for the American Idol finale. I planned my evening around the broadcast. I could not wait to see how “Sarah Plain and Tall” would handle herself when she was forced to truly demonstrate her readiness to hold such an important political office. After seeing clips of her interviews with Charlie Gibson and Katie Couric, I was baffled at the fact that there are people out there who actually believe Governor Palin is a viable candidate for Vice President of the US. After last night, I’m completely dumbfounded at the fact that there are still Americans who will vote for McCain because Palin is his running mate.

Let me be completely honest here. Sarah Palin scares the HELL out of me. It scares me that she doesn’t know what she doesn’t know. I cannot think of a single question from last night’s debate that she answered directly. She’s a master of the political “bait and switch” of twisting a question and giving an answer that sounds reasonable on the surface but really has zero substance. More than once, I scratched my head and wondered, “What is she really saying?” The answer—Nothing! It’s political double-speak and quaint one-liners. “We’re going to put government back on the side of the people.” Sounds good… But something tells me that a McCain/Palin government is on the side of only those people who look and think like they do. Look at Palin’s record in Alaska—allegations of attempts to ban books from the Wasilla library, investigations by an ethics board surrounding an attempt to fire an ex-brother-in-law, her involvement with what has been dubbed the “Bridge to Nowhere.” She claims to be an outsider to Washington politics, but corruption in Alaskan politics bears a striking resemblance to what she promises to clean-up.

The polls this morning show that most Americans saw Joe Biden as the winner of last night’s debate. However, Sarah Palin was viewed as the most “likable” candidate. I’m not sure when congeniality became a criterion for measuring potential world leaders, but it scares me to realize that many Americans will vote for McCain because they ¬like Sarah Palin. Sure she’s cute, and she knows it. But, I for one don’t really want this self-proclaimed lipstick wearing pit bull (aka Hockey Mom) to be one heartbeat away from being the leader of the free world. Yes…she claims to be from “Middle America,” and “doggone it” she understands the struggles and desires of the average family in the US. But, I’m not sure that a Vice President who winks at the camera like she’s a waitress at the local truck stop is who I want representing America to the rest of the world.

Now before I’m accused of being a misogynist let me go on record and say that I believe America is ready for a woman in the White House. In fact, I supported the best woman for that job wholeheartedly. And, I cannot really say that Sarah Palin isn’t smart. That isn’t the issue. I know a lot of really smart people. But, I wouldn’t want ¬ANY of those people to be Vice President. It isn’t enough to be smart. It isn’t enough to be likable. Understanding “Middle America” will not cut it. Thinking Americans need to take the lead on this one because many voters will be swayed by “warm and fuzzy.” And that’s just a bit too scary for me to stomach. On November 4 we need to walk away from the polls with a new Vice President, not the Easter Bunny!

2008-08-22T20:37:00.001-07:00

Does John McCain KNOW America?

In a recent interview, John McCain was perplexed when asked how many homes he owned. In fact, he told the reporter he'd have to check with his staff and then he'd be prepared to answer. Senator McCain has also been known to say that anyone making less than $5M per year couldn't be called rich. How sad for all of those Americans who make $1M. I guess by McCain's standards they are middle class... Hopefully, he might consider them "upper" middle class.

McCain has admitted to not being able to use a personal computer. And his idea for ending this country's dependence on foreign oil is to hold a contest giving a hefty prize to an individual who can develop an electric car or a car that runs on batteries... I sort of stopped listening at one point because I began to realize that McCain may not be the sharpest tool in the shed.

And speaking of tools... It saddens me greatly and scares me to death to know that a lot of people in middle America--those men and women who work the land and have actually touched a tool-- truly believe that John McCain and the Republican party have their best interests at heart. Of course, the tax cuts he proposes are most likely in line with the Bush tax cuts. Of course, we must keep in mind that those poor Americans who make only a million dollars per year are just hovering somewhere above the poverty line and need all the help they can get.

All sarcasm aside. It's time for every American to ask himself or herself, "Who will lead this country to take back its rightful place on the World Stage?" The answer to that question is not John McCain. John McCain and his Republican party will tell you that they stand for family values. They will tell you that they support health care for all Americans. They will tell you that they believe in fiscal responsibility. But, the last time I checked, I'm pretty sure most Americans I know--those of us who need the government to truly protect our interest--We knew how many houses we owned (or don't own because owning in California is cost prohibitive). We knew because we struggle to write the check that pays the mortgage every month. I suppose Senator McCain has somebody on his staff write his mortgage checks each month. Wait a second--He probably owns his 7 homes outright.

2008-06-22T11:50:00.000-07:00

Concert Review--25 Live--George Michael
In celebration of a music career that has spanned some 25 years, George Michael has embarked on a major concert tour of Europe and North America. Beginning in Barcelona, Spain in 2006, Michael has entertained millions of fans in sold-out events in major cities. George Michael recently announced the inclusion of "The Final Two," two additional shows scheduled to be held at Earls Court on August 24 and 25. With these two shows, the lights will dim and the curtain will drop on what is sure to be one of the most memorable musical events of the decade.

My partner and I were among those who were lucky enough to see 25 Live in San Jose, California last night (June 19). Our attendance at the show was somewhat of a fluke. I just happened to win the tickets in a radio contest a few weeks ago. (Oh the joys of being Caller Number Nine!!). So, I cannot say that I'm a true George Michael fan. Sure, I have a couple of his CD's, and I can sing along to many of his biggest hits. And, as a gay man, I have an appreciation for anyone in the public eye who takes that bold step of living an openly gay life. It seems that Mr. Michael overcame a number of personal struggles to be Out and Proud. I find that commendable, no doubt. Nevertheless, I am far from being a die-hard Michael fan. I do not own his entire discography, nor do I aspire to. I can say, however, that I will be going out to buy his latest musical offering Twenty-Five.

As a writer, I work very hard to avoid overstatement and cliche, but when friends have asked me what I thought of the concert last night, I am at a loss for words. Fabulous! Amazing! Incredible! These are the words that come to mind, and while descriptions of this sort seem trite and lacking in meaning due to their overuse, in this case, the words seem most apropos. From singing songs from his early days with Wham ("Everything She Wants") with energy and enthusiams to crooning like Sinatra on "Kissing a Fool," George Michael proved himself to be equal parts Gay Icon/Club King and Sensitively Serious Vocalist. His thoughtful and passionate performance of "One More Try" seemed as fresh and moving as it did when I first heard its call to social consciousness in 1988. "Freedom 90," which ended the show rang out like an anthem with lyrics like, "There's something deep inside of me. There's someone else I've got to be." One cannot mistake the personal conviction with which Michael celebrates what seems a new-found understanding and appreciation of himself. And, celebration seems to be a word which encompasses the experience of Live 25.

If the music itself were not enough of a draw, the staging and visual effects are spectacular. A screen wraps from below the stage, across the floor of the stage, and then reaches to the ceiling behind the stage. This screen becomes a canvas onto which are projected visual images that make the lyrics and music come to life on a whole new level. I have often wondered what music would look like if it were an art form we could experience both visually and auditorilly. That concept no longer seems so foreign as the designers of Michael's show have captured the essence of the music beautifully. Add to the visual effects and Michael's sweet voice a musical ensemble of virtuoso talent and back-up singers who could easily hold their own as solo performers, and you have the perfect blend of artistry and entertainment that had both my partner and me still experiencing that incredible high that only live music can give you even this morning.

As I mentioned earlier, I won my tickets purely by luck and chance. After seeing George Michael's Live 25 concert, I feel as if I have won a lottery. In the lifetime of a music lover like myself, there are a handful of concert performances that are remembered and cherished forever. Without a doubt, seeing George Michael on June 19, 2008 in San Jose, CA during his Live 25 tour will be among those rarities of rarities for me.

2008-03-20T17:48:00.000-07:00

Out Here On MY Own

I remember a song sung by Irene Cara on the soundtrack for the movie, Fame. "Sometimes I wonder where I’ve been--who I am--do I fit in? Make-believin’ is hard alone, out here on my own... We’re always proving who we are--always reaching for that rising star, to guide me far and shine me home--out here on my own." When I first heard that song, I think I was in junior high school, standing on the threshold of adolescence, trying to make sense of so many conflicting feelings. I lived in a small town that seemed so far from everything meaningful in the world. The lives I saw played out on TV didn’t really resemble my life at all. In many, many ways I felt isolated, and Irene Cara’s performance seemed to capture all of the melancholy and disillusionment I often felt with my life. It was comforting.

There have been many times in my life when I have felt lonely and times when I’ve felt alone. I’m not sure if the two feelings are exactly the same. In fact, there were times when I felt intense loneliness and was sitting in the same room with another person. Loneliness, perhaps, has more to do with that feeling that we aren’t truly seen or understood by those people with whom we share our lives, the people whose validation and recognition is so highly prized, made all the more precious by the fact that it is not easily attained. "Alone" feels different. My ability to embrace and welcome that alone feeling seems to run along a continuum. There are times when I cherish a moment alone, and other times when the thought of being alone is overwhelmingly frightening.

Lately, I’ve begun to understand a new kind of "alone." At times, this new "alone" is accompanied by true loneliness, but for the most part, the feeling is a comfortable contentment. This type of "alone" is tempered by hope and promise. This "alone" gives birth to independence and self-reliance. This "alone" opens doors to self-discovery, radical self-acceptance, and unconditional self-love. I am learning what it means to truly be "out here on my own," and the lesson is beautiful.

I’m beginning to see how much I have to offer others... I’m learning to cherish my sensitivity and soft-heartedness. I’m realizing that I am a deeply introspective and slightly complicated individual, and I’m okay with that. I’m returning to those elements of my personality that I have loved well but let die in the shadow of another...I’m living life creatively and with passion, allowing impulse to carry me away from time to time, apologizing to no one. I’m letting my proverbial hair down and giving in to that part of my soul that has a penchant for flights of fancy. I’m encouraging my inner critic to be more open to people, to experience, and to change. I’m embracing what we all know--We pass this way only once!

"Sometimes I wonder where I’ve been--who I am--do I fit in? I may not win, but I can’t be thrown...out here on my own!"

2008-03-09T11:31:00.000-07:00

Playing with Matches

"Matchmaker, matchmaker make me a match...find me a find...catch me a catch!" If only it were that easy to find love in the year 2008!

I'll call him Albert to protect his anonymity. We met on Match.com. I recently created a profile on the popular online dating service despite one of my best friends own disillusionment with her online dating experiences. I am not unhappy being single. In fact, I'm more and more content with my life every day. I don't have an overwhelming need to be partnered or coupled. And, at the same time, I'm a social being with a loving heart who enjoys sharing my life with a significant other. But, I digress... Anonymous Albert...

We had our first--and only--date tonight. We met for drinks at Twin Peaks, a bar in the Castro (San Francisco's gay district). Twin Peaks has been dubbed the "Glass Coffin" by some uncoothe younger gay men. The establishment has huge windows across the front allowing passersby a view of the bar's patrons, older men. I'm not saying my date was old. Not even close... At 51, he's pretty close to my "target age group." I am attracted to older men. I appreciate the fact that they are established, have a good sense of what they want from life and a relationship, and they can actually carry on an intelligent conversation.

Albert did not look that much like his photos on his profile. In fact, I couldn't pick him out in the crowd. He was much more handsome than I had expected. He looked younger than I had expected he might, and he had facial hair that he did not have in the pictures. He looked great. The conversation seemed to have a slow start. We chatted about dating in general, what we liked to do for fun, and about our experiences with other men we had dated or been in relationships with. At one point he shocked me by saying, "I can usually tell in the first 40 minutes or so if a guy is someone I'd like to have a relationship with." I was tempted to take a look at my watch to see if those crucial 40 minutes had passed. To be honest, I wasn't feeling the chemistry. I liked Albert. He was sweet, soft-spoken, and handsome. His eyes were beautiful, and they seemed to sparkle when he smiled. Albert was clearly intelligent, articulate, cultured, well-travelled, and charming. I felt NOTHING!

There's nothing more tragic than going on a blind date with someone and having a decent time--not a great time, but not a dismal time--and finding that there's no romantic connection. According to Match.com, Albert and I are perfect for each other. But at the end of the evening, we left the restaurant and walked together for a short distance, to the intersection of Market and Noe where Albert offered me his hand and shook mine and said, "You're a sweet guy, but I wish I felt more chemistry." Wait a second...A moment ago I said that nothing is more tragic than realizing that there's no romantic connection between you and your blind date. There is one thing that's more tragic. Standing on the corner of Market and Noe and being told that your date just isn't into you as another really gorgeous guy walks by and overhears the whole thing...yeah...that's slightly more tragic. AND, it happened to me.

It's Sunday morning...around 11:30...and I'm sitting here in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt...definitely NOT dressed to impress... I'm on my second cup of coffee...and soon I'll join friends for brunch. Maybe the single life ain't so bad!! A delicious crepe is calling my name...but first let me see who winked at me on Match.com

2008-02-29T21:20:00.000-08:00

What Would Carrie Bradshaw Do?

A couple of years ago, I watched all 6 seasons of Sex & the City nearly back to back with the man who was my partner at the time. I asked Freddie (who just recently became my "ex")this question: "If I were one of the girls on Sex & the City, which one would I be?" I wanted him to respond by telling me that I would be Carrie Bradshaw, the character played by Sarah Jessica Parker. You see, she is my favorite. She's artsy with just a bit of an edge. She'll spend her rent money on a pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes and not bat an eye. She's madly in love with Mr. Big, but she continues to try her hand at making other romances work. And, she writes a fabulous column which is the show's namesake. I love Carrie Bradshaw. I want to be the "gay guy" version of Carrie Bradshaw.

Much to my dismay, he told me that I reminded him of Charlotte, the prudish WASP who desires nothing more than to fall madly in love with Mr. Right and live in the Hamptons in a beautiful home with a white picket fence. In one episode, Charlotte was espousing the principles of The Rules, a book that came out in the mid-nineties and purported to contain the secrets a woman should know to "catch a husband and live happily ever after." I was mortified... I could handle being Miranda, the strong independent woman and successful attorney, or even Samantha, the buxom, blonde bombshell and self-proclaimed slut. Anyone but Charlotte... Why Charlotte?

This conversation may have easily remained in the archives of my mind gathering dust, brought out only as a humorous anecdote to share with friends now and again. It may have been entirely forgotten save for one interesting development in my life. I'm single again. Well...I'm sort of single, I guess. About a month ago, my partner (ex-partner I suppose...just can't get used to that yet) and I decided that our romantic relationship was not working. We both confessed that we just weren't happy maintaining the status quo, and we came to the conclusion that we needed to disolve our partnership. However, rents being what they are in San Francisco, we also resolved to continue to live together as roommates, at least temporarily. And...we have also decided to remain friends and continue to do things socially. We'll have dinner and a movie with mutual friends tomorrow night. We gay men are such unusual creatures!

I'm single again... I feel this need to repeat it, so it will sink in. I woke up this morning and had coffee with Freddie. I walked our dog, Butch, (technically his dog) and went to work. This evening we went for sushi like we have every Friday night for the past year or longer. We made pleasant conversation and came home to watch some TV and start the weekend. On Sunday, we'll most likely join our friend, Ragina, for Sunday brunch like we always have... But, I'm single again. I don't feel single. When Freddie and I are together, we don't look single. Yet, that's what we are. Two single, gay men who used to be partners living together in the same apartment, cooking and cleaning together, caring for the same dog, and sleeping together...just not sleeping together. I know, it's confusing.

Today it struck me that I should think about dating. I know, it's only been a month since we broke-up. And yet, I feel oddly ready to move on. It's like it was over before it was officially over, and I've mourned the loss of the romance and love relationship. There was no bitter divorce to weather, no fits or rages, no tears, no shouting...just a comfortable end, like blowing out a candle. Sure, there were things that really didn't work, ways we took each other for granted, and hurts that we just can't seem to heal. But overall, there's a friendship and that sense of family, something that many gay men have a hard time achieving. For now, that's worth saving... But, what about dating??? What would Carrie Bradshaw do?

I'm not sure how this dating thing is supposed to work anymore. And, I certainly don't know how one dates when he's still living with his ex-partner, who seems more like a big brother than an ex-lover. (See...we gay men are complicated!)What do I say to a potential date when he asks about my living situation? Worse yet, what do I tell my roommate/ex-partner when I'm going out after work and won't be home for dinner? I placed an ad on Match.com...but only after perusing as many of the ads as I could to make sure that my ex-partner had not placed an ad AND to check for any mutual friends who might find the ad and "blow the whistle." (Is that an expression a gay man should use?)My friend, Nancy, has already tried to fix me up on a blind date. She means well. And, my mom has let me know that I should lose a bit of weight and get in shape. It's a pretty daunting prospect--dating at age 39.

So...What would Carrie Bradshaw do?

Well, I'm not Carrie Bradshaw, but here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to work on truly loving myself without condition before I choose to give my heart to another. I'm going to take the time to not only search my soul but to nurture it as well, so that I know what I have to offer another man. I'm going to spend more time with my friends and family because they are the people who make sure I have a soft place to land. And, I'm going to stop worrying about love and romance... This time around, I'm going to let my "Mr. Big" find me!

2008-01-30T22:01:00.000-08:00

Steady On

Each of us has the right and the responsibility to assess the roads which lie ahead, and those over which we have traveled, and if the future road looms ominous or unpromising, and the roads back uninviting, then we need to gather our resolve and, carrying only the necessary baggage, step off that road into another direction. If the new choice is also unpalatable, without embarassment, we must be ready to change that as well.

~Maya Angelou from Wouldn't Taken Nothing for My Journey Now

Because I am an avid reader, I come across nuggets of wisdom, great quotes, catchy sayings, and humorous anecdotes all the time. And, because I have a memory like a steel trap, I often remember such words--not always to the point that I can recite them verbatim, but I can easily paraphrase those ideas and wonderful words that have spoken to my soul. Like songs that can get wedged into some corner of our minds and play on continuous repeat, these words often find a way of floating through my consciousness, reminding me of some truth to which I should pay attention.

Lately, the quote that introduces this blog has been broadcast in that place of my mind that calls forth the fondness of memory. I find the words chasing after me, telling me that now is the time for change. Major change. Change that I've seen coming but avoided for a long time. It's no secret... I don't like change. A friend of mine once called me "long suffering." He was referring to the fact that I will stay in a situation that is uncomfortable until I simply cannot stand it only because making a change is scarier for me. It's true, I can become very comfortable with "status quo."

I am haunted by the opening line of the quote. "Each of us has the right and the responsibility to assess the roads which lie ahead and over which we have traveled." I get hung-up on the word "responsibility." It seems rather forceful, implying an obligation of sorts. I hear echoes of Socrates... "The unexamined life is not worth living." Both are challenges for me even though I'm truly quite introspective. As much as I strive to truly know myself and work at being the best person I can be, I know there are those parts of myself and elements of my life that I would rather not look at twice. And, at the end of the day, I'm hesitant to ask myself the question: "Am I truly happy?" Yet, I am continuing to learn that when we dig into the stuff of our lives, absolutely ALL of it, only then do we honestly grow and become closer to the men and women the Universe calls us to be.

As challenging as Maya Angelou's words are for me, they are a source of comfort as well. As I let the words take root in my heart, I am moved by the depth of compassion and understanding expressed. Angelou urges us to let go of our shame about making mistakes. She encourages us to gather our resolve and to step forward down another path, knowing that in our humanity, we cannot be certain the next path will bring us to our final destination. We need not worry; we may choose again...and again...and still again.

I wish I could be more certain about the path I am choosing on this leg of my journey. I wish I had more answers than questions at this point in my life. Nevertheless, I am making my peace with those things that are unknown to me. I trust that life unfolds as it should. The Universe has its own time and season for everything... Steady On!

Drag Queen Rainbow

2007-12-15T13:49:00.001-08:00

Drag Queen Rainbow
Originally uploaded by Bohemedude

I shot this picture in Amsterdam when my partner and I were visiting friends for Queen's Day (the birthday of the Queen--not these kind of queens) It's a huge celebration... Lots of parties on the street. Great fun!

2007-11-30T16:05:00.000-08:00

It's Coming On Christmas...Have you ever gotten a song stuck in your head? I'm pretty sure it's happened to most everyone. An annoying jingle from a commercial on TV runs incessantly somewhere in the back of our minds as we go about our daily tasks. I guess that's the point, right? The advertisers want you to remember their products when you're walking through the supermarket. As you're pushing your cart through Safeway, your subconcious begins to sing... "Mama makes brights white like the sunlight, Mama's got the magic of Chlorox 2" See...It works!

I once had the song "Fire" by Bruce Springsteen stuck in my head for what seemed like years. It's an okay song, I guess. But, the problem was that I didn't hear Springsteen's voice or my own performing the song. That would have been a bit too sane for my twisted mind. Instead, it was Elmer Fudd. Yep...that's right. I had watched an HBO Comedy Special featuring Robin Williams who sang the song as Elmer Fudd. I must admit that it was rather funny, but the replay that occurred in my head was torture. I'm almost fearful to give the matter any further attention, lest the song should begin playing again in that mysterious manner in which such things happen.

I shouldn't make light of the power of music to captivate us. In fact, music has been for me a constant companion since the days of my youth. I have a pretty extensive personal library of recordings on CD, cassette, and even vinyl. I refer to this music lovingly as my life's soundtrack because in lots of ways that's exactly what it is. Many of my most precious memories have a song or songs associated with them. And, I find that certain music can more easily capture a mood or moment than mere words can. Seriously, I cannot imagine my life without music, nor would I ever want to.

Lately, the song "River" by Joni Mitchell has been running through my mind. I haven't listened to the song for quite awhile, but I remember the opening lyric distinctly. "It's coming on Christmas. They're cutting down trees. They're putting up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace. Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on."

While the song itself really speaks of a lost love and doesn't have a whole lot to do with Christmas, it seems to be the song that is calling out to me this Christmas season. I was just thinking the other day about how much I love this time of year. Not just the holidays, but winter in general. I have many fond childhood memories of winters in South Dakota. Winters are much colder on the Great Plains than they are here in California. The snows fly, and the winds are truly bone-chilling. And, the winter is long, sometimes extending into late March and early April. In fact, I remember blizzards that kept my sisters and me out of school in the early spring.

It's funny how the things we miss or take for granted as children become the "stuff that nostalgia is made of" as adults. Although I love my adult life very much, I sometimes find myself missing that inexplicable feeling of comfort and contentment that I felt as a child, snuggled in my bed under a quilt on a cold winter night and just knowing that I was safe and sound in Mom's house. I remember Mom and Dad playing board games with my sisters and me when a blizzard had cut-off the electricity, leaving us without a TV. Mom would bake bread or cookies to warm the house because we had a gas oven, and we'd drink hot cocoa by the gallons. There was something about the cold outside that made me so aware of the warmth of home. I'm not talking about the coziness of being sheltered by a house, but something even better than that. As children, we take that feeling for granted, and as adults, we long for it. At least I do. I know that there are times when I'd give almost anything to just curl up on Mom's sofa on a cold Sunday morning.

Maybe it's the fact that I'm getting older that causes me to wax sentimental today. Maybe it's the time of year. Maybe I'm feeling homesick, missing the snowy Black Hills that I learned to love so well. Maybe it's the realization that my younger sister will be deployed to Iraq for the second time after Christmas. Could be all of those things in combination, I suppose. We are complex beings, are we not? Whatever the reason, I have learned over the years that it is possible to simply sit with our thoughts and not analyze them. While there is something melancholic about my recollections from the past, I am content to wrap these feelings around myself and cherish them.

It's coming on Christmas...They're cutting down trees...They're putting up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace... Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on...

But it don't snow here...It stays pretty green...I'm going to make a lot of money...Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene... Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on...

I wish I had a river...

Bicycles

2007-10-21T00:28:00.001-07:00

Bicycles
Originally uploaded by Bohemedude

I love this picture. I think it's one of the best photos I've shot. I took this in Cologne, Germany. Orange is my "signature color," and I loved how the bikes were leaning against the building. I also found the windows to be really interesting...as well as the cobblestone street. Very European!

2007-10-19T11:07:00.000-07:00

Has Ellen Stopped Crying Yet?

Unless you live under a rock, you've undoubtedly heard or read about Ellen DeGeneres's emotional breakdown on a recent episode of her show. Ellen and her partner, Portia di Rossi, had adopted a puppy named Iggy from Mutts and Moms, a rescue organization in Pasadena. Planning on providing the puppy with a wonderful home themselves, Ellen and her partner spent $3000 not only to have the dog neutered but also so the vet would take the puppy home so he wouldn't have to sleep at the animal hospital. When they discovered that the puppy would not be able to live comfortably with their cats, Ellen and Portia, decided to give Iggy to Ellen's hairdresser and her family.

At some point, the rescue organization, Mutts and Moms, telephoned DeGeneres to check on Iggy. Thinking she had done a good thing by finding the puppy an alternate home, Ellen let the agency know that Iggy was in a loving home. Unfortunately, it seems that the couple were unaware of a stipulation in the contract they signed when they adopted the dog which stated that the animal should be returned to Mutts and Moms if they could not keep it for any reason. As a result of that clause, the rescue organization, under the leadership of Martha Batkis, physically removed the puppy from its home. Batkis and the organization maintain that Iggy could not be placed in the alternate home because it was not a suitable environment for him, specifically because a small puppy should not be placed in a home with children under 14 years of age.

If Ellen's tearful plea for the puppy's return to the two little girls who bonded with him during their two weeks of caring for him were not enough, the story becomes even more dramatic with reports of Batkis experiencing heart palpatations as a result of death threats and harassment at the hands of DeGeneres's fans. Ms. Batkis even condends that Ellen is just trying to use her celebrity to bully and push the rescuer around. The story is all over newspapers and the Internet, and hundreds of bloggers have weighed in on the topic.

While death threats seem to be taking the matter way to far, I must admit that I actually signed an online petition to voice my opinion on the matter. The entire situation seems absolutely ludicrous to me. I mean, where is our common sense? Clearly, Ellen DeGeneres feels terribly about the situation, namely for the two little girls who fell in love with this puppy. In the clip I saw, she was genuinely devastated by what has happened and simply wanted Iggy to be returned to the children who love him. She made no derogatory comments about the rescue. She was not malicious. In fact, in the piece that I saw (admittedly not the entire show) she did not even mention the rescue's name.

Perhaps I've even given this whole matter way too much thought, but I keep asking myself this question--Shouldn't Mutts and Moms be thrilled that Ellen and Portia found Iggy another loving home? I keep wondering what I don't understand about the concept of pet rescue. Moreover, when did organizations like dog rescues decide that bureaucracy and red-tape were a good thing? I sort of have to wonder who is really trying to take advantage of celebrity here? Somehow I find it hard to believe that Ellen brokedown on national television as a way to throw her celebrity status around for her own gain.

Does anyone want my opinion? Probably not, but I'll give it anyway. For starters, let me give kudos to Ellen for being so real. I've always loved the comedienne for her quick wit, but now, I respect her for her humility, vulnerability, and her honesty. "Way to go, girl!" Now, to Mutts and Moms and Ms. Martha Batkis, I have to say, "Wake up and smell the kitty litter!" Seriously... It seems like a simple logic to me. One puppy needs one good home. It seems like that mission was already accomplished, but I guess it's more important to follow rules and reprimand television personalities than to exercise common sense. Ms. Batkis, are you another "decider?" Just puttin' that out there!

2007-10-16T22:51:00.000-07:00

On October 30, Shout! Factory will release the long awaited My So Called Life DVD collection. All 19 episodes of the series, an entire DVD of bonus features and archival footage, and a 40-page, full-color companion book make this the definitive collector's item for fans of the ABC television series. I must confess that the collection tops my holiday wish list.

"Lately I can't even look at my mother without wanting to stab her repeatedly," admits Angela Chase in the series pilot. What fifteen year old has not felt exactly the same way? Such was the appeal of My So Called Life to viewers when it aired for its only season in 1994. Capturing the bittersweet essence of teen angst, My So Called Life paved the way for the teen dramas that would come after. Before shows like Dawson's Creek and Party of Five became television hits, an entire generation of teens and twenty-something youth were captivated by Claire Danes and her portrayal of awkwardly beautiful, Angela Chase. Each week, the TV lives of Angela, Rickie, Rayanne, Jordan and Brian resounded with those of us who were desperately trying to find our way in the complex world of the 90's.

My So Called Life offered something that shows like Beverly Hills 90210 did not. I think, for me, I was drawn in by a sense of realism and honesty. The writing was brilliant, and I often felt that the characters were speaking for me, saying the things I needed to say but wasn't sure how to express. "It just seems like, you agree to have a certain personality or something. For no reason. Just to make things easier for everyone. But when you think about it, I mean, how do you know it's even you? And, I mean, this whole thing with yearbook -- it's like, everybody's in this big hurry to make this book, to supposedly remember what happened. Because if you made a book of what really happened, it'd be a really upsetting book." Words like those, spoken so naturally by Danes that they didn't even seem scripted, made me feel less like I was watching the lives of fictional characters and more like I was overhearing the conversation of friends. I'm sure I was not alone in my feelings of despair when the show was not renewed for a second season. And while, I refrained from writing hate mail to the "powers that be" at ABC, I do feel somewhat vindicated by the fact that the show has retained quite a following some thirteen years after the final episode aired.

Ms. Danes has gone on to bigger and better things from portraying Juliet in Baz Luhrman's screen adaptation of Shakespeare's most well-known work to her recent starring role in Evening. Even so, I will always love her best for her work on a television show that was cancelled before its time. I often wonder what would have become of Angela Chase as she completed her education at Liberty High. I guess we'll never truly know. Somehow I think she would have ended up very much the same as we all have in our own so called lives.

2007-10-12T11:11:00.001-07:00

My So Called Cyber Life

Urban myth says that Al Gore is responsible for inventing the Internet. I’m pretty sure that isn’t true. I would guess that a whole team of brainiacs were responsible for developing the worldwide web which is arguably one of the greatest achievements of our time. Not since the invention of the telephone has communication become so easy for people. The Internet has undoubtedly made the world a smaller place and has established a global community.

I was literally the last person in my family to get a computer and an email address. My mother and father were online before I got connected, a fact that is so incongruous with my father’s nature. Dad avoids the telephone at all costs, so to imagine him logging on to email seems completely inconceivable. My late arrival to the cyber world had less to do with avoidance of technology than my own propensity to procrastinate. And, I didn’t really feel I was missing anything by not having Internet access.

In the year 2000 my friend Jackie gave me her old computer when she purchased a new PC. It wasn’t long before I became Bohemedude@aol.com, and my life changed. Suddenly, I had the entire world at my fingertips. I could meet and communicate with people more than half a world away. I could send correspondence to anyone in seconds. I was enthralled. I became adept at instant messaging, and I made the first of my “cyber friends.” Benjamin is a young man who lives in Wyoming. We met online in some crazy chatroom. We discovered we had many things in common, and we began to forge a friendship that has lasted for more than 7 years now.

Since those early days of exploring the web, both my own experiences with the online world and the web itself have expanded and flourished. I’ve become a master at online research thanks to search engines like Google and Ask Jeeves. I have three email addresses: one for personal use, one for my writing, and one for work. I have profiles on MySpace, Friendster, Facebook, and Classmates.com. I have developed a slight addiction to Ebay and Amazon, and my iPod and iTunes have become my new best friends. I write a couple of different blogs, and I read the blogs of several friends on a regular basis. Even my dog, Butch, has his own profile on Dogster.

Sometimes I ponder how the Internet has changed our world, and like anything, there are certainly pros and cons. Opponents of the web complain that it has given us unlimited access to information that may be harmful or put to ill use. Educators and parents complain that children spend too much time surfing the web and not enough time reading or studying. Many arguments against the Internet focus on the number of websites that feature adult material including pornography. And of course, there has been widespread media coverage of predators who use the Internet to target unsuspecting youth.

Despite its apparent downfalls, the Internet has truly enriched my life. I met my partner through an online matchmaking service. Because we met online, we were able to establish a great deal of common ground through emails and chats before we met in person. We knew that we had similar interests and values and had assessed our compatibility before we went on our first date. Some of the guess work of dating had been eliminated. Online dating aside, the web has helped me stay connected with friends and family who live far away. I do not often receive phone calls or “snail mail” from these people, but I do receive email and am thus able to remain a part of their lives. In addition, I have been able to build friendships with people that I would not have otherwise met. Some of these friends are people I have never met face-to-face. Yet, the friendships we share are enlightening and fulfilling.

Due to its ability to connect people in a global sense, the Internet has truly forced us to redefine relationships and communication. As one who loves the written word, I am thrilled that email has truly revitalized correspondence and has brought letter writing, albeit in a new form, back to the forefront of communication practices. When I recently reread Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, I couldn’t help but think about how important letter writing was in that time, and I remembered the emails that my partner and I exchanged during his travel abroad when we were first dating and falling in love. The web has also allowed us to really connect with others on a deeply personal level if we choose to do so. The expansive nature of the worldwide web allows us to establish relationships with those who share our interests and views. For young people living in small towns or anyone else who may feel a sense of isolation, the Internet has opened up doors of acceptance and community that are vital for us all.

I love my cyber life. My partner sometimes complains that I spend too much time “chatting with my peeps.” But for someone like me, who has an insatiable appetite for conversation and the exchange of ideas, the Internet has allowed me to grow. I find that I am often more candid and confident in my online chats with friends than I am in my everyday life. I also have found support and encouragement from others who are able to be a bit more objective about circumstances because they are necessarily removed from my daily life. And although few people probably actually read my blogs or visit my MySpace page or other profiles, I have a sense that I am making my mark on the world. I think that’s a good thing!

www.myspace.com/bohemedude

2007-10-08T21:46:00.000-07:00

Still Got the Beat

Every life has its soundtrack. For each of us, there is a body of music which we claim as our very own. These are the songs that have served as a musical backdrop for the memorable moments of our lives. We all have that specific song that we call "our song." When it plays on the radio we announce... "Hey, that's my song!" and most likely, sing along. We all remember the song that was playing the first time we slow danced with that person who sould become the love of a lifetime. And, of course, there is the song that was our anthem when we went through a painful break-up. I still cannot hear "Strong Enough" by Cher without remembering blasting it in my car as I drove away from the condo I shared with my ex. It seems the older we all get, the more extensive our CD collections and the corresponding soundtracks of our lives become.

In 1982, I was thirteen years old, thrilled to be a teenager at last, and entering the world of junior high school. My best friend Rick and I were rather eccentric for the small town in western South Dakota where we lived. We were both gay boys growing up in a very conservative part of the country, and while we never discussed our social orientation with anyone and in many ways never even admitted it to ourselves, we found in one another a certain solidarity. We were inseparable even though Rick was actually a grade ahead of me.

It was during my junior high school years that I became obsessed with pop culture and developed an insatiable appetite for music. Whenever I could, I would purchase records and cassette tapes. Rick shared my passion for music, and we both become enamored with an all-girl rock band with a sound that was fresh and unique, unlike any of the music we were listening to at the time. I remember the first time I heard "Our Lips are Sealed" playing on the radio. I was hooked and so began my love affair with the Go-Go's. Rick and I could sing every word to every song on all three Go-Go's albums and often blasted the tunes on the stereo in Rick's car as we cruised around our small town.

The story of the Go-Go's mirrors those of other successful rock bands. After a string of hits, the band broke up in 1985 amid reports of "cat fights" and drug abuse. Belinda Carlisle and Jane Weidlin had brief solo careers. Charlotte Caffey, the Go-Go responsible for much of the band's songwriting, formed the band The Graces with two other girl rockers. Rick and I both developed new musical tastes. Rick discovered Madonna, and I found The Smiths and The Cure. The Go-Go's became one of those guilty pleasures that are kept secret.

Fast forward twenty years.... I was sitting at my desk at work, listening to my favorite radio station Alice Radio in San Francisco. I lovethe show "Retro in the Metro." DJ Jayn plays hits from the 70's, 80's, and 90's, and I indulge my sense of nostalgia. Several weeks ago, the station was giving away tickets to see the Go-Go's in concert at The Independent in San Francisco, and I actually won two tickets for the show. On October 5th, I finally saw Belinda, Charlotte, Jane, Kathy, and Gina live. And, it was everything I could have imagined and more.

Playing to a sell-out crowd at The Independent, a small concert venue in San Francisco, the Go-Go's proved that they still know how to rock. As the show opened with mega hit, "Vacation," I was swept away in the energy and spirit that hooked me in my teens. This is feet in the sand, driving with the top down, feel good music at its best. From Kathy Valentine's distinctive bass lines and Gina Shock's driving rhythms on the drums to the unmistakable voice of Belinda Carlisle, the ladies entertained the crowd with all their hits. Everyone sang along and danced to the classic "We Got the Beat." Making light of their break-up in 1985 and recalling Carlisle's solo career, Jane Weidlin introduced "Mad About You," the treatment of the song seemed a bit edgier than the original.

The group truly seemed to enjoy playing together, and like the audience, they may have been reliving the eighties, a time that I recall as being carefree and wildly fun. For a moment, it seemed that we had all stepped back in time. Yet, I was struck by how maturity and distance had changed us all. The Go-Go's certainly have been through major changes, and they were certainly approaching the music from a new place. Yet, there was something remarkably timeless about the music. Perhaps that timelessness is wrapped up in the fondness with which we all regard our youth. Unlike the girl rockers who looked fabulous, I am certainly showing my age physically. Still, a part of me is still sixteen years old, filled with wonder at all that the world and life hold.

Seeing the Go-Go's live will long be one of my favorite musical memories. Like many memories, the taste of this memory is bittersweet. My dear friend, Rick, was killed in a car accident a year ago. I would have loved to have shared this experience with him. I can't help but imagine the two of us, dancing, singing, and celebrating... "Kids got the beat!"

2007-09-16T11:21:00.000-07:00

Calling All Bibliophiles

I'm not sure when my love affair with books began, but it has been one of the only true and constant passions of my life. Reading has been the most transformational action of my 38 years of life. What is it about the written word that is so engaging to readers like me? One of my college professors seemed to unlock the mystery when she observed, "Jerome, you love ideas." Dr. Patricia Popelka's observation was spot on although I had never really given the matter much thought at all.

I guess I was always aware of my love for books. Some of my friends even labeled me a literary snob, referring to my rejection of fluff in favor of more meritous fiction. More careful examination might move one to question whose standards were employed to determine which books were worthy of my attention. That, however, is a discussion for another time. At any rate, it is obvious that I love to read books that are provocative and that have something to say.

Books have always been a huge part of my life. As a child, I looked forward to weekly trips to the library. I would always borrow as many books as I was allowed to take out at one time. I would always examine the signature card (before the days of computerized systems) to see who else had read the book before I had. For certain beloved books, my own signature would often appear multiple times.

As a college student, I took a part-time job as a bookseller at Waldenbooks. I held that job for more than 13 years, and I loved every minute of it. I loved being around the books. I loved talking with the customers and my co-workers about what we were all reading. And, I loved being able to buy all the books I wanted at a discount.

Over the years, I have formed a number of beliefs about books, a philosophy if you will. I have discovered that I don't find books, but instead books find me. I've had the uncanny experience of reading a book that speaks to me so profoundly and in a way that is so in sync with what is going on in my life that I begin to think that books have a life and psychic abilities all their own. Oftentimes, I will begin reading a book and find that I cannot get past page 30. That is always the indicator for me that it is not time for that particular book. I simply put it back on the shelf and choose another. I sometimes begin two or three books before I settle on the one that I need to read at any given time. I usually come back to the discarded book at a later time and devour it. Timing is everything.

Reading is one of my lifes greates pleasures. I have come to realize that books are truly doors of discovery, allowing us to experience entire universes of thought. Reading for me is very much a spiritual practice. Books have led me to profound understandings of myself, others, and our world. Cicero said, "A room without books is like a body without a soul." I could not agree more!

Fellow readers...check out these awesome websites for bibliophiles.

www.shelfari.com and www.reviewparty.com

My favorite books of all time...
My Name is Asher Lev-- Chaim Potok

To Kill a Mockingbird--Harper Lee

The Little Prince-- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

The Prophet--Kahlil Gibran

Pride and Prejudice--Jane Austen

Writing Down the Bones--Natalie Goldberg

Currently reading...

2007-04-20T12:08:00.000-07:00

Two Poems

Twilight

Twilight
and I am alone--
waiting, watching, wasting away
listening for your car in the drive
the slam of your car door
announcing that you are home
like so many times before.
But somehow the anticipation has become worn,
torn and faded
too comfortable to be discarded but
worse for the wear

Autumn
Mighty oak drops his leaves
gold and crimson at my feet
When did loving become a burden?
When did the rush of passion
slow to less than a trickle?
You take me for granted and I
escape into myself--
Struggling with the urge to
run away into the mists
Embrace solitude

Wednesday
Check the clock—11:48 PM
Love steps aside for apathy.
There is comfort in the loss of that
to which you can no longer lay claim.
You lie beside me
A stranger, an empty shell.
You do not notice me
sinking into the darkness.

Apparition

Last night I dreamt a poem
Horses running wild
across solid barren land.
The leader clothed in white
Her mane a sea of snowy waves.
In the distance, singing…

At dusk, I see him walking
alone beside the river
A banquet set before him.
He speaks but none can hear him
Anonymous faces with eyes disappearing
From the treetops, singing…

In the dark night, I run
down streets of a city unknown to me,
My legs thick and heavy with regret
for the places they have carried me.
Standing on a cliff, waves crashing below
From the ocean, singing…

The sun rises on a procession
Eighteen women carrying swords
Crimson gowns floating
on Mother Earth’s passionate breath
Bowing and bending in homage to the sun
Beyond the horizon, screaming…

2007-02-09T12:09:00.000-08:00

In Western South Dakota where I grew up, boys do NOT study ballet. It's one of those things that you just know; nobody needs to tell you. Real men hunt and fish. They drink beer and watch football. They are in attendance at the annual production of The Nutcracker for one of two reasons: they were dragged there by a woman or their daughter is performing AND they were dragged there by same said woman. That's as close as any man will get to the wonderful artform that is dance.

I was born and raised in Sturgis, South Dakota, home of a world famous motorcycle rally. To the average male citizen of Sturgis, the word "dancer" brings to mind only one image. It involves a bar and a mirror. Let me clarify lest anyone get the wrong impression. These are not the horizontal bar and mirror of a dance studio. No, no, no... this bar is in a vertical position and is generally referred to as a pole. And, the mirror... Yes, you've guessed it. The mirror is attached to the ceiling.

As a young boy, I was somewhat of a misfit although I really didn't notice or understand why. I guess I was blessed with a certain level of blissful ignorance. I simply went through life oblivious to the fact that I was wonderfully eccentric. I loved the arts. In the third grade, I was the Candy Man in our school Christmas program. I still remember skipping around waving my red, white, and blue top hat, candy canes pinned to my blue suit. In 5th grade, I was a dancing crow in the spring musical, a revue based on The Wizard of Oz and The Wiz. I eventually studied music and became an elementary music teacher. I still hear that the music programs I produced with my students have never been out-done. Perhaps, I was a born performer.

My partner thought I was crazy a few months ago when I announced that I was signing up for an adult beginning ballet class. My mother was mortified by the thought of me in tights. My sisters both chalked it up to flamboyance--"You always were so artsy." My father refrained from making any comment. I promptly went shopping and came home with slippers, tights, and a dance belt (think jock strap with a bit more padding--who knew such a thing existed). My life as a dancer begins next Monday, and I'm going to savor every moment!

I have often marvelled at those who regretfully announce that they wished they had taken piano lessons or would love to write poetry. I see so many adults whose lives are so consumed by duty and responsibility that they become bitter and miserable. So many people have dreams and aspirations that remain buried deep inside without ever being nurtured and allowed to grow. So many people seem to decline following their hearts' desires in favor of what seems more acceptable or sensible. I don't understand why. As Langston Hughes pondered, "What happens to a dream deferred?"

I don't expect to be a great dancer. I'm nearly 40 years old, well beyond my prime for such endeavors. I do, however, intend to have a great time. There is a time and season for everything under heaven. Now is my time to DANCE!

2007-01-16T06:36:00.000-08:00

I guess it happens to all of us at some time or another, that realization that nothing in this life will ever be perfect. It's a familiar feeling really, one to which we all become accustomed sooner or later. I have always envied those who are able to accept disillusionment without the gut-wrenching feeling of loss that seems to be its accompaniment when I experience it. I have always wondered how some people can go through life without giving into any expectations, save the expectation that sooner or later everything gets broken or turns to shit. Nothing is ever as it seems--especially if it seems perfect or particularly stable.

I have always lived in a bit of an Ivory Tower, I guess. I have allowed myself to believe that true love conquers all and that people live happily ever after. I've laughed at the cynics who don't believe such things and have faulted them for their lack of commitment to ideals. I have seen them as weak. But, Ivory Towers exist only to be toppled by the waves of reality. And, at the end of the day, each of us is only human--wonderfully human at times, but flawed nonetheless.

Today I am confronted with the great realization that someone I have loved with my entire being is not perfect. This is a fact that should not be a huge surprise, and deep down, I have always known that he could not possibly be perfect, but I allowed myself to believe that this man could never hurt me. Sure, I expected little bumps and bruises along the way. But, I could not have fathomed that it would be possible for this man to shake my world in such a profound way.

The infraction is not terribly serious--a momentary lapse in judgment perhaps. Without entirely knowing the motivation behind the action, one cannot say for sure how serious the matter is. That's the crazy part about human interaction; we can never be certain what another is thinking or feeling. Yet, the situation is enough to call into question many of those crucial aspects of who each of us is. For my part, I know that I am hypersensitive at times and that I often allow my emotions to get the best of me. At the same time, a spade is a spade--if the hand’s in the cookie jar...

And so today what I must rest with is this: How does one restore his shattered image of another? How does one rebuild something as delicate and fragile as trust? How far must one go to forgive another's human weakness? How much does one set aside one's own expectations to accommodate the flaws of another?

I am reminded of a beautiful scene in the film, Love Actually. Emma Thompson's character has just discovered that the necklace she had earlier found by accident in her husband’s coat pocket was not her Christmas gift after all, but something he had purchased for another woman. Her children and husband are oblivious to her heartbreak, awash in the excitement and joy of Christmas Eve. She quietly excuses herself, goes up to the bedroom she shares with the man who has just torn her heart apart and listens to a lovely recording of Joni Mitchell's Both Sides Now. She allows herself only a moment to cry then pulls herself together for the rest of the evening. She later tells her husband, "You have made the life I live seem foolish."

I am not certain that all the parallels apply, but in this moment I can say that I look at love from both sides now. From this moment forward, nothing will seem the same. For better or worse, a line has been crossed. I will do my best to learn the lesson and move on. “With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world (Desiderata)”
Namaste!

2006-04-14T12:45:00.000-07:00

My experience with Brokeback Mountain was somewhat of a "dance." First of all, I was prepared to LOVE the movie. 1) I'm a gay man 2) I grew up in Western South Dakota, just across the border from Wyoming and 3) I like cowboys... I mean, I REALLY like cowboys.
Sadly, the movie did not live up to my expectations. Not on my first viewing anyway! I think all of the media hype and things I'd heard from friends who had seen it left me with expectations that were just too high...

Right before seeing the movie a second time, I read my friend Amy's blog. She'd written about the movie and how much she loved it. I was completely bummed, because I did NOT like the movie, and Amy and I almost always have the same taste. I was embarassed to tell her that I had really disliked the movie. Funny...at the age of 36, I still buckle under peer pressure. Especially if it's a peer that I really love and respect. Amy is one of my best friends.

My partner and I went to see the movie a second time because some friends from out of town wanted to see it. I was literally blown away. It was a totally new experience for me. This movie is beautifully filmed, brilliantly acted, and deeply moving. If you go into the film expecting a "gay cowboy movie," you're going to be terribly disappointed. This film is about intimacy and the power of love. It's about discovering oneself in the midst of a deep bond that is both perfect and painful. This movie says more about what is to be a human who loves deeply than it does about love between gay men. At the same time, it does show the tragedy and hardship that grows out of relationships that are not accepted by society. Ang Lee has created a poignant, memorable tale of love that transcends boundaries of society. Sometimes first impressions are terribly wrong!

2006-01-28T23:47:00.000-08:00

A Letter to the Past...

Maybe it has something to do with being 36... Suddenly life seems more finite than it did 20 years ago. My parents are getting older now; they will not live forever. My sisters and I are all living away from home now--have been for years. Time seems to travel a bit more swiftly these days.

Grandpa has been gone more than 15 years now. That doesn't seem possible. I still see the twinkle in his eyes and remember the sound of his laughter. Most of all, I remember the music... His accordion singing as he gently opened and closed its bellows--crooked fingers flying across the keyboard....

Grandma died when I was just a boy not much older than 5 years old. Shortly thereafter, my father's mother and father also passed. I don't remember much about them.

I have a new interest-- In genealogy. My partner started researching his family tree with great fervor and excitement. Now, I want to know about mine... Who were these men and women who came from Norway & Germany to settle in the Dakotas? I wonder if they ever dreamt into the future and imagined me-- many, many years later. Their blood runs through my veins--and yet, somehow they are lost... I want to find them... My great, great grandfather Mans Monson
Richard Busiahn... John Jacobson... Peter and Elizabeth Zenz... Adam Imhoff & Minnie Fink... Elizabeth Magstade... Theobald Mees & Suzanna Shramm... More than 100 years ago your lives made mine possible... THANK YOU!

Jerome Imhoff
San Francisco
2006

2006-01-20T15:45:00.000-08:00

My "Lost" Soundtrack...

I don't watch a lot of television. I never really have. I sometimes cop a snobbish attitude about it, saying that I prefer books over television. That is the truth. But, my facade is quickly toppled when I confess that the programs I CANNOT miss are Will & Grace, Desperate Housewives, and American Idol. After such a disclosure, any attempts to put on a superior intellect are futile.

The show Lost is certainly not on my "must see" list. In fact, I have never seen more than an advertisement for the show, but I have often wondered what it would be like to be stranded on a deserted island. Pondering of this sort has resulted in the following question which I enjoy posing to anyone who will answer:

"If you were being sent into exile for a long time and could take with you only 7 CD's (in your current collection) and these would be the only music you could listen to for that period of time, what would they be?"

You can learn a lot about a person with that question. I'm sure you are making a mental list of your own right now. What music would comprise your personal Lost Soundtrack? Here is my soundtrack:

1. U2-- Joshua Tree
2. Carole King-- Tapestry
3. Amy Grant-- Lead Me On
4. Indigo Girls-- Nomads, Indians, and Saints
5. Sarah McLachlan-- Mirror Ball
6. Annie Lennox-- Bare
7. Coldplay-- A Rush of the Blood to the Head

Of course, my list changes every time I play the game. My musical tastes seem to be somewhat contingent on my mood at the time or the particular patterns of my life at any give moment. I often wonder what my selections say about me and am prepared to explain each in some philosophical manner. Lately, however, I find that I am content to let the music speak for itself... and I'm happy to just sing along!

2006-01-15T14:05:00.000-08:00

Butch

2006-01-15T14:01:00.000-08:00

Freddie and Jerome

2006-01-11T23:31:00.000-08:00

THANK GOD AND KRISTI KENLEY

Kristi Kenley predicted it all back in the 8th grade. Her prophecy came in the form of a cryptic message written inside the cover of my junior high yearbook. Kristi was one of the first of my classmates that I asked to sign my yearbook. After all, we had been friends since the third grade when we were founding members of our own chapter of the Shaun Cassidy Fan Club. She had even come to my defense when the clubs other two members, Teresa Hanson and Lisa Malcolm, wanted to kick me out of the club because they began to think it odd that a boy would be such a devoted fan of the most popular Hardy Boy.

“Good luck in San Francisco!” That was how Kristi had signed my yearbook. At first, I was confused and wondered what had given Kristi the impression that my family and I were moving to California. I was just about to say something to Kristi, when it hit me. I didn’t know much about San Francisco, but I knew one thing. San Francisco was known for…Oh my God! Did she know? Could she tell that I was… gay? Of course, by the time I was in the 8th grade, I knew that I was different than the other boys. I knew it when I was very young and developed my first crush—on Rhoda’s husband. By the 8th grade, I’d had a series of crushes—my 7th grade social studies teacher, the high school boy who lived down the street, and Brad Reaser. Brad, Kristi, and I were all drummers in the 8th grade band. Had Kristi noticed me staring at Brad? I was mortified.

I grew up in Sturgis, South Dakota in the heart of the Black Hills. My childhood in South Dakota was wonderful. My sisters and I rode our bikes all over our small town. We played Hide and Seek with our neighbors on hot summer nights. In the winter, we would sled down the hills near our house and build giant snowmen in our yard. My childhood was nearly picture perfect, but with adolescence came a sadness that I fought desperately to hide.
In South Dakota, like most of the Midwest and Great Plains, gay men have only one lifestyle choice—life in the closet. By the time I was thirteen, I knew my closet well.

In places like South Dakota, the closets are comfortable and well-lit, furnished with the assistance of all those well-meaning folks who know the truth but who have a vested interest in keeping it under lock and key. They are our mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, and our friends and co-workers. They hide from reality because acknowledging the truth would force them to make profound changes in their ideologies and moral convictions and at the same time, would open the door for public scrutiny and criticism. My personal closet was well-constructed, complete with a wife and a job teaching music at a Catholic school.

On September 7, 2000 at the age of 31, I left my closet. I must admit, I was dragged out, kicking and screaming, but nonetheless, I was out! After nearly two years of marriage, my wife decided she had made a terrible mistake and no longer wanted to be a wife. Shortly thereafter, my sexual orientation came into question when I was seen at an establishment frequented by gay men. The result was a forced resignation from my teaching post at the Catholic school. The life that I had created for myself in a desperate attempt to be what I thought I was supposed to be lay around me in ruins. But, in the midst of that rubble I discovered the unconditional love of my family, who were finally able to embrace me as I truly am, and the support of friends, who were applauding me for what seemed like a small victory.

There is only one thing that is worse than being closeted in South Dakota—being OUT in South Dakota. Realizing quite quickly that my options for dating were slim to none and tiring of my mother’s words of caution, “We don’t need to tell everyone,” I closed my eyes and clicked the heels of my ruby slippers three times and… followed a man to the San Francisco Bay area. The man was a huge mistake, but California was not. Although there are times when I miss the fresh, pine-scented breezes of the Black Hills, I find that I am now most at home in the city by the bay where I now live with my partner Freddie and our Boston Terrier, Butch. I have learned that life does not often turn out as we or others have it planned, but if we are lucky, it turns out as it should. Thank God…. and Kristi Kenley!

2005-12-11T17:35:00.000-08:00

Morning...

In the morning, I wake to find you beside me. I find you as you are--untouched by the movement of the day--but in a state of purity. You are just coming to life, giving birth to yourself, emerging from the womb of the night's sleep. I experience you in that state of quiet imperfection--touseled hair, stained breath, sleep-filled eyes. I see you as you are-- in the natural, raw condition of your total humanity. I experience the scents of your body--unwashed, naked flesh. This is an intimacy reserved for me alone. In the morning, you are most beautiful. And in the morning, our love is new.

2005-12-08T07:14:00.000-08:00

I finally know what love is...

He walks into the room and my heart stops for just a moment. He steals a sweet kiss when we are alone in the elevator. He holds my hand as we walk down the street. He strokes my head as we wait in line at the grocery store. He calls me at work to let me know that it's raining and to be careful coming home. He wraps his arms around me as I drift to sleep.

He sees my faults, but loves me just as I am. He challenges me to be a better man. He lives his life with passion and integrity. He is intelligent, kind, honest, and compassionate. He is my best friend!

I once read that falling in love is like having Miracle Grow thrown onto all of your character flaws. There are times when I don't trust as much as I should. There are times when I am difficult and stubborn. There are times when I am afraid. There are times when I test him to see how much I can get away with. Through it all, he is my rock. He is my soft place to land.

I used to think that love was that "warm and fuzzy" stuff that romantic comedies are made of. I now know that love is in the details of daily life. It's in knowing that no matter what happens you are not alone. Freddie is the first person I speak to each morning and the last person I speak to each night. It is he that I have chosen to love "from each sun to each moon...from tomorrow to tomorrow"

2005-12-07T08:40:00.000-08:00

Small Town Boy... Big City Dreams

"Keep your money in your shoe, and don't look anyone in the eye." That was the advice my mother gave me the night before I boarded the plane to travel to New York City for the first time. My mother could not understand my excitement. She had always been completely content with her simple small-town existence. Everything she desired or needed could be found in her own backyard. That contentment was something I had not known for a long time. It was in my adolescent years that I first became aware of a hunger that my life in Western South Dakota would never be able to satisfy. It was my first visit to New York City which finally gave a life to that hunger, and it was the sweet voice of that hunger which eventually called me to leave the Black Hills of South Dakota and to make my home in the San Francisco Bay Area.

The city has a heartbeat. It has an electrical buzz, a surging energy that awakens the senses. For those who have lived the greatest share of their lives in metropolitan areas, the electricity of the city may be too commonplace to be discerned. For me, it was a drug, and like a child tasting candy for the first time, I wanted more. For ten days, I did things I had only heard about or read about. I was attending a conference and was being housed on the campus of Columbia University. At night, I would ride the subway to Broadway, eat in an ethnic restaurant because the food was cheaper and nothing like the food I could get back home, and take in a show. Before returning to the dormitory where I was staying, I would go to the West End, once a hangout for the likes of Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac, for a beer or two. I fell asleep to the sounds of taxis and people on the streets.

In the city, I was a different man. I was more alive somehow, awakened with possibility. Every day I saw glimpses of the person I could be, the person I was becoming. I noticed my pace as I walked the city streets had changed. It had quickened; I was becoming a part of this unique life force. And although I did not understand the sum total of the impact this trip had on my life in that moment, I knew that I was no longer the same man who had boarded the plane ten days earlier. I had lived my entire life knowing that the world was a much bigger place than I could even imagine. I was starved for culture and diversity, for the arts--music, theatre, books, ideas. I wanted more than the homogenized sepia-toned existence of the Great Plains. More than that, I needed more. I needed to be inspired by life, and now I knew that I could be. I had experienced life in living color. I suddenly knew what I was missing.

None of us know when the wake-up call will come. We become complacent in our lives, accepting the status quo because it is comfortable or because we are too afraid to make a change. My life in South Dakota was a long goodbye which began the moment I discovered my love for art, music, theatre, and diversity. My farewell was bittersweet. I left behind the Black Hills and prairie, trading them for a view of the bay. I said goodbye to my family and followed my heart to place which has become home. There are moments when I long for the home and the landscape I once knew. I miss the mountains and the farmland and ranches which stretch on for miles. I miss the people whose simple way of life and whose values have shaped who I am. I miss my family and my friends, those people who are most dear to me. When the longing comes, I answer it and in this I have found a most unusual paradox. Home looks most beautiful when approached from a distance.

2005-12-02T20:23:00.000-08:00

Hello Kind Reader~
These are two of my favorite pictures. The first of me and my partner at SF Gay Pride in 2004. I was so happy that day. The second is of me and Butch.

So...You may be wondering "who" I am. Obviously, I'm more than a name...
Here's how I like to think of myself...

Jerome is a writer, musician, philosopher, free-thinker, and teacher with a deep appreciation for all things avant-garde. He enjoys stimulating conversations, captivating novels, killer lattes, and sleeping late. He grew up in the Black Hills of Western South Dakota and studied English and music at a small, state university. He has an intense love of words and a profound fear of heights. Jerome has been described by his friends as a “hummingbird on caffeine.” His youngest sister affectionately calls him “butt nugget.” To his family, he is the “weird one” and his father is convinced that his mother dropped him on his head during infancy. He is a painfully shy introvert who is evolving into an extrovert through a most amazing journey of self-discovery and sometime neurotic behavior. Jerome now makes his home on the West Coast where he undergoes “culture shock therapy” on a daily basis. He happily shares his life with his partner Freddie and their Boston Terrier, Butch. He is practicing radical acceptance of himself and others. His views of the world and personal, biased opinions of life are the inspiration for his blog. Feel free to respond to his blog or email him at Bohemedude@aol.com. Put "BLOG COMMENT" in subject line.

2005-12-02T16:56:00.000-08:00

“Now is the time for walking…” I had just reached the turnstile on my way to catch the subway when that thought came to mind. The thought came to me in a flash, as if someone had just turned on a bright light, or a single tone had sounded from a bell. In comparison to the millions of trivial and random thoughts that float through an active mind like mine on a daily basis, this particular thought was unique in a way that I couldn’t really define. It was like a slight nudge, a gentle prodding. “Now is the time for walking…” As I slowly became aware of the thought, I had another realization. Just moments before, I had left work and walked the five city blocks to where I catch the subway everyday. As I placed my subway pass into the reader on the turnstile, it occurred to me that I could not remember walking to the station. Had I turned out the lights and locked my office door? Was it raining outside? Was the street vendor selling her wares outside the station? I could not recollect a single detail of my short journey.

“Now is the time for walking…” The rest of the way home, I pondered the meaning of this strange thought, which continued to echo in mind. This thought seemed to have a life of its own, and I could not simply discount it as one of the many incidental ideas that enter my mind, literally by the second. “What shall I have for lunch? Damn, I have a hole in my sock… right by the big toe. I don’t think I’ll go to the gym tonight…” Somehow, I recognized, these words had purpose. Recently, I have become interested in Zen Buddhism, and while my understanding of its precepts and practices is elementary at best, I have come to truly appreciate one of the basic foundations of Zen—AWARENESS. As my life becomes crazier and crazier, something inside of me cries out for simplicity. As more and more of my day becomes consumed with obligation and duty, I find myself longing for a moment or two to myself. As that space within myself becomes more and more cluttered with stress and anxiety and the busyness of life, I find myself in need of silence and calm.

The word Buddha means “Awake.” Zen practice is focused on awareness, being in the moment. “Now is the time for walking…” This simple thought opened the door to profound wisdom and led me to a pointed question: How much of my life passes by without my awareness? It is so easy to go through life on autopilot. Multi-tasking has become a way of life. We talk on our cell phones while we drive in our cars. We thumb through a magazine or watch television while we are eating dinner. We have become so accustomed to excessive stimulation that we are unable to quiet our minds enough to become fully aware and present. “Now is the time for walking…” The more I considered this simple idea, the more its message became crystal clear.

That day, like many others, I had allowed my mind to become carried away by thoughts and worries. As I walked to the station, my mind had continued to make To-Do lists and plans for the next day’s staff meeting. Physically I was walking down the street, but mentally I was seated at my desk…working. “Now is the time…” It was an invitation to wake up. Making my way home, I made a concerted effort to be more mindful. Everything became new. I ate dinner and slowed down enough to truly taste the food. I washed the dishes carefully, allowing my hands to feel the water. I listened to one of my favorite CD’s with my eyes closed so I could really focus on the sound of the music. And, as I crawled into bed that night, I found that my mind and spirit were quiet. I’d like to say that I live my life with such mindfulness everyday. Sadly, that is not the case. Like my propensity to procrastinate, craziness and busyness continue to make their way into my life. But, when I find myself becoming overwhelmed by all of the things that require my attention, I simply remind myself to slow down and to do one thing at a time. I remind myself to truly notice all of the things that are around me. I remind myself to “Be here now.” Now is the time for walking!