Cynique Posted January 1, 2016 Report Share Posted January 1, 2016 Well, it finally came to pass. What folks being interviewed on the evening news lament about when describing whatever calamity they always figured happened to someone else had suddenly happened to them, has happened to me. .It all started on Memorial Day at a family cook-out. There I sat gnawing on a barbequed rib, licking my lips to savor the sauce when I was joined by my oldest granddaughter, the one I had christened my "golden girl" because she was so smart, accomplished, and pretty. A mischievous grin creased her face as she plopped down and promptly informed that she had something to tell me. Before I could wonder what, she made her 2-word announcement, "I'm gay!" I continued to chew but the meat wasn't going down as her whole life passed before me, including the red flags I'd chosen to ignore. "I've told every body else", she went on, "and now it's your turn." I considered talking with my mouth full so she couldn't understand what I felt like saying. But I kept my composure, reminding myself how liberal I always lied about being when it came to homosexuality, while giving lip service to my "live and let live" philosophy during arguments with the religious nay sayers who had driven me into the gay camp with their sanctimonious prating, and playing of the abomination card. "Well, I still love you," was all I managed say as I tried to blot out the visuals that began to flash in my mind inspired by my other favorite line of defense against homophobes. "What goes on behind closed doors between consenting adults is nobody else's business." EU. Months later, same scenario, different holiday, gathered around a card table munching on a barbequed hot link, trying to ignore the familiar grin my granddaughter was flashing, as my 2 daughters exchanged wary glances. "She's not my husband, she's my wife," my granddaughter explained during the Q&A period following her announcement that she and her partner had gotten married. How could you call someone who wears combat boots, vests, and pants that sag a "wife" was all I wanted to know. Not swayed by the long dread locks said wife sported, I shrugged, glad the she was not among those present since my son's sullen disgust would've proved awkward. (So much for his theory that his daughter's affair was just a phase.) At least her out-of-state mother was accepting. Indifference was the reaction of her cousins and brother.. And then it was Labor Day Little did I know how significant that word would be as the usual crowd gathered to bid summer good bye and chow down on whatever was smoking on the grill. "We got a friend to be a sperm donor," was my granddaughter's explanation for her pregnancy. "Did you by any chance enjoy making the baby?" I asked vicariously, following the news that the semen squirter was a good looking college graduate. A sly smirk was the answer. "He wanted to stay all night," she confessed. With that being the case, I was puzzled as to why then the attraction to women. And a butch one in particular. My granddaughter, however, was having none of my interrogation. She reminded me that she was an adult who didn't have to justify her choices in life. And she's right. Tonight is New Year's Eve and everybody has different parties to go to. No family gathering, - thank goodness. I'm staying home and when the shooting starts, I'll guzzle some Champagne and contemplate what 2016 will hold. This I know. Hardly a day will pass without an occasion to give pause and absorb the closure provided by the "it is, what it is" adage. C'est la Vie. 2 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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