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Work 4 Peace,Hold All Life Sacred,Eliminate Violence! I am on my mobile version of the door-to-door, going town-to-town holding readings/gatherings/discussions of my book "But What Can I Do?" This is my often neglected blog mostly about my travels since 9/11 as I engage in dialogue and actions. It is froth with my opinions, insights, analyses toward that end of holding all life sacred, dismantling the empire and eliminating violence while creating the society we want all to thrive in

Friday, January 12, 2018

My brother's a homo

The rain continues today, a little harder than before but I was able to get in a short hike on a Florida Nature Trail for an hour this morning. Now, fed & coffeed up, facebooked & informed for the day, no excuses left to postpone finishing my book - on the second third of review.

The campground continues to b quiet, folks staying inside I guess. One white man with a thick southern drawl gave me a friendly wave & said he wanted 2 take his boat out  go fishing but it's too windy. There r slight ripples on the water...hmm mm

He stares at me, thru the drizzle and slight fog, wind tossing his straggly hair around like a flag in shreds. I really don't want to engage but slow down as he hesitantly ambles toward me, asking me if I like to fish.

He motions me to come closer, which I do not but try to keep my face friendly yet distant. He wants to tell me something. I see his old camper, u.s.ofa. flag plastered on the side, motorcycle listing carelessly on the sand, and brace myself.

He lowers his voice and all I catch is his desire to tell me something, a sharp tang of sweat, and his face turning bright orange in the morning light. He wants to know if I'm a homosexual. I raise my voice and tell him I am a lesbian - I'm still not sure what he wants.

Then he reveals his baby brother is a "homo" but what he really wants to talk about is how awful he's been to his brother - and probably to other gay people. I look at him closer, the puffy blood-shot eyes, unhealthy swollen cheeks with that 5:00 shadow even though it's dawn, thin lips disappearing as he attempts to smile.

He looks anguished and sorry as I urge him to talk to his brother, let his brother know how sorry he is, and ask for his forgiveness. His face drains of color so quickly I want to get out of there as I hope he'll not faint. He doesn't but he tells me "It's too late. My brother's been dead for 24 years."

I can only nod as I tell him maybe he can join PFLAG and make it up to others.

The lingering pain and shame of biogtry.