I remember now.

I'm 56 now and graduated from high school in 1973,  college in 1977. I mention the dates because after listening to the news today, I realized that I should start recording my memories of high school. Apparently in 10 years or if I ever choose to run for president (not gonna happen, I promise), I will lose my memories of that period of my life.

So here are a couple of things I remember - I was regularly called a faggot and a homosexual through-out high school and college. Well actually it was more like "fag" and "homo".

I figured at the time it was because I was tall, had long hair and loved music, theater, singing and dancing. I was a little outside the norm during my school years, particularly after having accelerated in fourth grade. Nothing like pushing your desk down the hall in the middle of a school year to tag you as different. That in combination with my reaction to my father's death in sixth grade certainly made me feel different from others....or at least so self involved that I didn't care or have a clue whether I was like them or not.

I remember being regularly singled out and challenged to fight in junior high, at the bus stop, at my locker, surrounded by a half a dozen of my class mates. Apparently I was particularly scary in my polyester bell bottoms with matching neckerchief. The words I remember more than the fists.

I remember the verbal baloney got so bad during my senior year in high school that when I was cast as the lead in our high school musical, the theater and music teachers insisted that I forgo any other activities that put me in front of my schoolmates until after the musical was performed.  Huh.

In college the words continued to be used through my freshman year. Yeah my hair was down to my shoulders, I wore a fedora and an ankle length car coat with a fur collar when it got cold.

Now I'm sure that my behavior - particularly my mouth attracted some of this abuse. I have a tendency to say what is on my mind. Although I've never understood what having an active mind and exercising it in concert with my mouth had to do with my sexual orientation.

I was coached to brush off the words and the insults, reminded that, "sticks and stones will break your bones, but words will never hurt you." So I created a facade. You can't get to me, I don't care.

What colossal rubbish.

I remember.

I choose to not remember who said what, but I do remember what was said.

I remember how I reacted to those words and what I chose to make them mean.

I'm fine now.

I do care.

I remember.

I learned.

Words. Are. Important.

Namaste,
Lon