Reposted in response to tr ig's recent nostalgic Open Salon post...…Continue
My secret weapon was a little wooden train.
I ordered it from IKEA, along with a shoe rack for our hallway. It was cheap, colorful, and compatible with my son Julien’s Brio track, and my plan was to keep it in my…Continue
by Tommi Avicolli Mecca
Simeon, at 16 you helped desegregate lunch counters in your hometown of Kinston, North Carolina. You taught me so much about nonviolent struggle. You were my hero.
Saj, I'll never forget how you outsmarted that NJ state trooper who was so eager to bust us. Your words to me that final time I saw you will remain with me forever.
Steven, thanks for the flower in my hair at Philly pride 1972 and for the good times at La Maison…Continue
Happy holidays to one and all!!
I know I don't post on here a lot but when I do, I wear a top hat and do a little dance!!
I hope each of you are having an awesome time.
I sure am.
I got Dr. Pepper and chicken.
French bread and coleslaw for a happy meal.
It has much less to do with the mythic celebration of Native Americans and the Pilgrims of the Plymouth Colony and much more…Continue
by Tommi Avicolli Mecca
There’s no denying that the popular story of the first Thanksgiving is a cultural myth, promoted by school textbooks that are anything but history. Just ask the Texas State Board of Education. It’s well versed in propaganda for the kiddies.
Many historians argue, as Richard Greener related in the Huffington Post, that the first Thanksgiving Day was declared by Massachusetts Colony Governor John Winthrop in 1637 “to celebrate the safe return of a band of…Continue
As a working-class, southern Italian faggot I have never felt in more danger.
I hear calls from the mindless mainstream media for the country to heal and unify. I won't heal. I won't unify with those who voted for the monster the mindless mainstream media helped create. This country can never be "healed" as long as racism, sexism, homophobia/transphobia, ageism, ableism, classism, etc. continue to make some…Continue
Like I wrote before I’m approaching Brother Bill’s home and health care slowly and building up a routine. Once every day I drive the five or six miles to Bill’s trailer and make sure he takes his pills and then we go out for breakfast or late lunch. Driving around Bastrop, Texas you can see dozens and dozens of campaign yard signs ranging from small hand-made signs tacked to telephone poles to professionally printed mini billboards that are four by eight feet. What is most interesting is…Continue
A hummingbird in the garage
No, not parked alongside the car
but hovering, frantically (they are frantic creatures)
Inches from the ceiling. It is darting back and forth
Against the white expanse as though a portal to
The natural world might appear but, actually, two very large
Portals, the open garage doors are there, just there
A few feet below where it - oh come on! -
Will not go.
Though I have no way of determining the…
It took me decades to stop wearing my father's underwear. I asked my therapist the significance of that fact. He's still working on it.
Let me explain:
I don't mean that for years, on up into my adult life, I was, at any time, wearing my father's actual underwear. If that were so I wouldn't be asking my therapist about it. I would be living at my therapists, curled up at night on the waiting room carpet and doing little chores during the day, like…Continue
I met Erica Herd, who blogged on Open as "Erica K.", at the big, lovely meet-up in Manhattan in 2012. I was impressed by how kind she was - and how impeccably coiffed.Continue
Like most of my past efforts to maintain a journal of events my best efforts are intermittent at best. Part of becoming a geezer is an increased focus on healthcare, so a couple of weeks ago Brother Bill and I went to see Doctor Yount, who is a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine and family practitioner. He also is an adjunct professor at the University of North Texas and on the day of our appointment one of his students, a pleasant young man, was observing his practice. With our permission he…Continue
That’s what some people here in France fondly call my son Julien.
But for a long time, I doubted he was very American at all.
Although I’m American, and although he’s visited the US a few times, he was born in a hospital in Paris, the city that’s been his home ever since. And as for me, the…Continue
Marriage is tricky. Love is complicated. And not complicated. It’s the uncomplicated kind that I miss the most. The kind of love that made everything else disappear. You remember it, or you might be in it now. I remember falling in love, especially during a cold, Chicago winter. It was the best thing in the world. I remember waking up on a freezing February morning, next to that warm skin, under blankets, safe. It didn’t matter how expensive the blankets were, or where we…Continue
As I slowly unpack from a move, I find the hardest things to unpack are old files. Too much information in too little packing space, so it takes time to separate what I want to keep from what I don't. In my case, particularly because my previous move was from a larger house to a smaller one, a lot of stuff stayed in boxes the entire time I was in the last house, which was ten years. In some cases I find boxes that…Continue