Searching for hope & finding a call to action
The last couple of months have been disturbing to such a degree that I have found it extremely difficult to articulate my thoughts and feelings, to put words to paper, and to know how to heal my wounded heart. I have worked diligently throughout my life to believe that the world is essentially a safe place, that violence is not pervasive, and that we, as a community, at bare minimum, are civil. Continue reading
People and families have a personal narrative history and so do places. My birthplace, my hometown, Racine, Wisconsin has one. It is the story of a factory town which attracted European immigrants, beginning with French explorers in 1699 who established trading posts at the mouth of the Root River where it empties into Lake Michigan.
It is the morning after the longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice. Snow in big fluffy flakes is falling sideways, blowing easterly. Yesterday’s ice glazed trees and roads today are flocked in white. It is a snow day in Wisconsin. Continue reading
When I visualize my future as an LGBT senior living in Madison, Wisconsin and aging in place, I imagine residing in a community of like-minded individuals committed to mutual support and fellowship, while we share spaces to congregate, celebrate, recreate and engage in creative collaboration. I would also need a private, personal space — a room of my own —a place to retreat, rest, meditate and write. Continue reading
A road trip is a must do activity every season of the year and it’s especially wonderful in Wisconsin in the summertime and fall. A road trip with a coterie of friends makes it even more of an adventure, there’s never a lack of stories, lively debates, or insightful observations about our lives as we travel. I’m fortunate to work for an auto dealership featuring luxury European brands, so I volunteered to drive my Mercedes-Benz C-300 on a perfect, blue sky, sunny, summer day. Continue reading
This post is in response to a writing prompt from the LGBTQ Narratives Activist-Writers group. The prompt: When did we first become aware of our own race?
Some background: My story takes place in 1955 in Racine, an industrial community in Southeastern Wisconsin. Continue reading