I moved to Chicago in the early 90’s after my divorce at 25. My apartment was 7 blocks from the lake, straddled between Wrigleyville and Boys Town. I educated myself by attending street fairs on Halsted where gay men partied, commiserated, openly hugged and kissed, supported, and loved one another. I’d never seen such openness [...]
Figuring out how I fit in became a question when I was three years old, left living with Dad, and began living with Mom…first with her parents in Davenport, Iowa. As my parents finalized their divorce when I was two it hadn’t occurred to me that I needed to fit. It was living with grandparents I [...]
When I was a little girl I didn’t know our family was off or different, things just were the way they were. Yes, I felt the ups and downs of first living with Dad, then with Mom…really with Grandparents shortly before Mom found a house for us. The important thing is I was unassuming, resilient [...]
The one time a year I could count on seeing my dad was at Christmas. Right around dusk on Christmas Eve he would ramble into town and land on our doorstep. When the knock came that we’d been expecting my siblings and I would hot foot it to the door. There Dad stood, my big [...]
It was the quiet spaces that were the killer. The fact that I saw things about Dad we didn’t talk about. The quirky way he and Jim would look at one another after having drinks after 5, after being separated all day, then joining back together with us kids for the evening. It was the [...]
In the mid 80’s when Dad contracted the HIV virus much was unknown about how to cure oneself. Many were dying. It spread like wildfire in the gay community and was a quick end for most. But for Dad, he was one of the lucky ones. He had been sick, couldn’t seem to shake a cold [...]
Beginning when I was old enough to fly to see Dad on my own, each and every time I visited him he’d guide me to the room I was staying in. On the bed I would find one of his thick velour robes, laid out for me to wear in the morning hours. Each [...]
At 17, I already felt a large tear in my life, in my heart. Dad had been so dear to me, so animated, so gregarious, so loving. Now, in the forefront of my mind he was gay. He was what my friends would label: homo, fag, queer – all negative labels, words used to make [...]
His inhibitions, his spontaneity were what I loved, what made Dad so infectious. Once while Dad was visiting me in Chicago I arrived home from work to find my apartment newly decorated with several tall tropical plants he’d stuffed into a cab, carted from the local Target store. I can see him hailing the taxi, [...]
I think of Dad as I freeze jars of pesto made from my garden to be pulled later for a special holiday dinner. Some of my fondest memories are cooking with Dad in the many kitchens he had over the years. As I go through the ritual of blending fall ready ingredients I think about [...]
