People worked hard, back then, to promote themselves as they believed they should be. Norman Rockwell, then Ozzie and Harriet, depicted Godlike behaviors and values that we continue to admire. However the hurt and loneliness endured by the fat girl, the oddball, the foreigner or the village idiot was largely ignored. Hopefully, they didn't live on our block. Few of us can attain Rockwellian Ideals. We're born with powerful and indelible compulsions. The flesh is weak and failure to achieve the ideal can result in the worst kinds of hypocracy. Pretending to be something we aren't causes damage to ourselves and to others as well. We've all heard stories about explosive consequences of passion denied. This book is about one man's fight to be kind to others, true to himself, yet achieve normalcy in a world with little tolerance for those who are, somehow, "queer"

Auszug. � Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

I Was Born This Way, How About You?

By Doug Green

AuthorHouse

Copyright � 2010 Doug Green
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-7424-5

Chapter One

The Letter

Nearing seventy, I knew it was time to start weeding out junk from anything others were likely to want. The garage was first; no tough decisions there—keep it, heave it, or put in a box to leave curbside. Our attic, however, as attics tend to be, was stuffed and I wanted to get on with it. Carefully placing Barney videotapes, Legos, Pok�mon cards, battery-operated plastic weapons and superheroes into two neat stacks, I began making my own piles of what to keep, what so-and-so might like and what was slated for Goodwill. Photographs and collections could go into the trash; their memories were safe with me. Rustling through letters and photos, I wept often as I communed with friends and family long gone through death or circumstance. Fortunately, I'd anticipated a melancholy task and had carried a new roll of Bounty paper towels up the steep, narrow stairs.

An envelope in Mom's handwriting caught my attention. It bore a three cent stamp and was postmarked May 31, 1939. Mom and Dad had lived in a furnished room in New York City while Dad finished up at Columbia's School of Optometry. Advanced pregnancy had obliged Mom to return to Vermont—she would stay with her parents until delivery time. As recent newlyweds, they missed each other. Both were disappointed that they couldn't be together at the most exciting time of their lives, the birth of their first child.

I opened the letter and read. It was about me.

Douglas F. Green Mary Fletcher Hospital 380 West 116th St. Burlington, Vermont New York, NY May 30, 1939 My Darling – I'm going to start a letter to you and do it probably in fits and starts. I feel quite well today and slept fine until five o'clock last night. Then I had some after pains, but I had a Nembutal, and all is well. Our little baby was brought in at ten for a feeding but didn't seem much interested. He wanted to sleep all the time and I couldn't seem to rouse him. He seemed so listless that I'm kind of worried, although the nurse said they are all like that the first couple days after birth. I hope she's right, 'cause if anything happened to that little fellow ... He is really very sweet, and I do wish you could see him now—as I know you must wish the same thing so much. The handprint I sent you didn't come out well, because he was bound to clench his fist, but I think the footprint was pretty good. As yet, my breasts haven't filled much but probably will tomorrow. Of course, your mother and father are tickled that he's a boy. Mom thinks he's awful cute, and Pop still hasn't been up because of his cold. Besides your roses, I have a dozen carnations from Mom and Pop and a very pretty bouquet of irises and yellow daisies from Kay and Rolly. I've got your picture right under the roses. Just three weeks from today, darling—but oh, how I wish you were here now. I expect I'll go home a week from today, and I'll have two weeks to recuperate before you get here. 12:05 - Just finished a nice dinner of chicken and biscuit, mashed potato, some celery, olives and lettuce on a plate, buttered string beans, bread and butter, and cherry ice cream. Don't worry. I didn't eat it all. I left the potato, bread, and most of the beans. I try to eat enough to feel satisfied but no more, 'cause I don't want to get fat here, and I want to lose a little gradually after I get out. I drink all the milk they give me though, because milk produces milk. I put my hair up in curlers this morning, so I really look quite nice ... considering. My skin doesn't look yellow like it did before. I'm not expecting many visitors today but looks like there'll be a raft of them tomorrow—Kay and Rolly, Jenny and Tony (in town for the weekend), Eddie and Lou, Mrs. St. John, and of course, your folks and mine (also Aunt Bird and Uncle Waldo.) It seems funny not to have your visits to look forward to. It is so good to have a flat stomach again. As far as I can see, it's none the worse for wear, and I am looking forward to the time when I can harden it up good. My walks kept my leg muscles pretty firm, and it hadn't ought to take long to get into shape again. I suppose, while I'm writing this, you're enjoying a weekend at Tam's. I rather envy you—seeing the Belmont races on Tuesday. I'll bet they'll be thrilling. I just hope you're having a pleasant time. I suppose when you get back you'll be swamped with work, but the time will rush by, I'm sure. S'pose you can get used to the idea of sleeping with me again? I think I can revert to the habit without much difficulty. 2:30 PM - Well, if I was worried this am, I'm not now. They brought "Junior" in at 2:00, and did he go to town! The nurse said he'd been hollering and he had his eyes open and really seemed to be hungry. He worked his jaws overtime, and I've got a darned sore "t." I hope he got plenty for his trouble. He was alert, and I feel so much better for it. It's going to be so much fun for you and me, watching him grow and develop. Mom forgot to bring my book on infant care, which I have to study up on. Do you like the idea of my nursing the baby or not? Everybody says the baby stands a much better chance of life and good health if breast-fed. I am anxious to get your letter tomorrow and see how you feel about its being a boy. A boy is the most important kind of offspring on account of the Greens must go on—or sump'n—so now that we have that off our chests, we can have a girl with an easy conscience—but not for a while! (I hope). They have a little bracelet of blue beads on his wrist with a letter on each bead, which spells G-R-E-E-N. I can just imagine how pretty it is at camp today. It will be so swell when we get established there. I'm looking forward to helping build the wall again—during the hours when you lay off studying—and I look forward to helping you do other things too. 'Member when you had me sorting nails, painting chairs, painting tires, etc.? I'll have to teach you how to give little Doug a bath—after I learn myself. No—I will stick to my promise—you won't have to change diapers anyhow. You can teach him all the things a daddy is supposed to teach his son. I wouldn't know how to do that. Mom is going to get out the little crib from the cellar and give it a coat of ivory paint. It would about fit where our chest is now. Later, when he gets older, we will use your crib.

Mac will make a good watchdog, and he could sleep on an old blanket on "our" back porch, couldn't he? He's very attached to me and will become so to you in no time. Mom says he misses me. He's a sweet pup. Mom and Pop call him the Hound of the Baskervilles. I'm afraid we'll have to watch him close though or Old Man Styles will have a litter of super mongrel pups on his hands. However, the little lady hound knows how to take care of herself. To imitate Harry, she sits down on "it." When I sit near Mac, he comes up and peels a somersault into my lap—as much of him as can get in it. He's full of exuberance! He knows his way around town and always finds his way home again. If you could...

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