When I was about 12 one of my brother’s “friends” broke into our house and stole a bunch of stuff. My father was in his bedroom sleeping, it was in the afternoon.
He took my moneychanger–one of those clever contraptions that sorts coins. I had about 10 dollars worth of change in there. I felt so humiliated. Because I knew that he didn’t like me. I felt “gay.” That was the word going around at that time.
According to my mother people in the neighborhood used to say we were “pink” (Communist).
I used to collect change from around the house wherever anybody left it. So, I guess I was kind of “gay.” “Weird.”
My job in life was so prove that I wasn’t. Instead I proved that I was. Failed out of an Ivy League college and went to a state hospital.
Live and learn. Cost me 40 years.
Un.Bon.Mot 