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Give Out Day – All Day, Today!

Today’s the day! This is the time when your donation to the Give Out campaign counts toward helping the Capital Pride Center continue its excellent programming and services, while confirming its vital place in the community. This is a day of support from the LGBTQ community as well as our straight allies, as it shows that everyone who contributes is a supporter of equal rights and acceptance for all. As the battle for marriage equality rages across the country, and as LGBTQ people continue to face hate crimes and discrimination, it is more important than ever to show our solidarity.

The Capital Pride Center is a great organization, and as the longest continually-running pride center in the country it has a place in our great gay history. Help me to put the Pride Center on the map as one of the top Give Out Day fundraisers for this fun day. You can donate online here – and you don’t even have to leave the house to do so!

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Who Will Save the Dahlias?

It was a fall day in Cape Cod. I was visiting JoAnn, shortly after her friend Lee had moved in with her. While JoAnn set up a stunning home, she didn’t do much with the yard, which is where Lee came in with her gardening expertise. Most of the flowers had finished their show and started their autumn slumber. The highlight of the garden – with flames still burning brightly – was a patch of red dahlias, staked and climbing up into the sky. Brilliant against a deep blue backdrop, they were like starbursts – big, glorious, hearts of scarlet, beating beautifully in the air. I asked Lee if she lifted them in the fall, to save them for the next year. She nodded. “Yes,” she said, “I’ve kept these going for a few years now.”

I am always impressed with those who save their tender bulbs until the next year, bringing them into their basements or garages each fall for survival every winter, then re-planting them when it’s safe to do so in the spring. She weeded a bit more, then stood up. It was, after all, almost time to put the garden to sleep. The remaining weeds would wait until next year too. We went inside to find JoAnn.

That weekend I got to know Lee a little better. I’d met her years before, at one of the many Cape gatherings JoAnn put on, and she was always gregarious and outgoing – the life of the party who knew how to make everyone else feel like they were having the time of their lives. In the house at North Beach that she shared with JoAnn, that spirit wasn’t dampened when there wasn’t a party going on. The next morning she joined in one of JoAnn’s famous brunches, crafting the most beautiful Bloody Mary I’ve ever seen or tasted – stacked with a toothpick of olives, celery, even a shrimp. This was a meal and, more than that, a work of art. I took a photo of it – it remains one of my favorite photographs.

Later that day she took me into Mashpee Commons for the afternoon, where I tried a plate of steamed oysters for the first time, looking out onto a Cape Cod inlet. Fall had arrived. The wind was strong. Inside, I was making a new friend – and, as with most of JoAnn’s Cape friends, it was fast and easy and comfortable. We talked about work, about the future, about the loves in our lives, and by the time we got back to the house, it was time for another party at North Beach – one of JoAnn’s traditional fall gatherings, around a fire pit, with her brother Wally’s cider, and her roommate Lee beaming and enjoying herself and teaching us all how to laugh a little louder.

I don’t think she realized how much she taught us, or maybe she did. On another visit, she was dog-sitting a pair of poodles for a friend – yippy, high-strung little things that required more tenderness and patience than either JoAnn or myself had. For some reason, Lee entrusted us to take them for a walk along the beach. We looked at each other incredulously, but she didn’t give us a choice. The dogs were placed in the back of a car, and we were on our way. At first we laughed at the situation, struggling to get them on their leashes, running through scenarios of how we might explain losing the things should the worst happen to happen, but after a few minutes we settled into it. The sun was just starting to lower itself in the sky, and the breeze kicked up over the water. Our restless hearts calmed a little, the dogs enjoyed themselves, and we took in the moment. Neither of us was very adept at that.

It was like Lee knew that it would do us good, that it would help not only the dogs (who needed to get out) but also JoAnn and myself, who needed to think of someone and something other than ourselves. To see what it was like taking care of an entity that was completely reliant upon us for survival. Somehow Lee understood that, and to this day I remember that walk on the beach, and those dogs, and I wonder at how she knew.

I never once saw her down or depressed. She didn’t even get moody or groggy in the mornings. When the rest of us were in the worst spirits, Lee was always smiling and bubbly and ready for the next adventure. She had an indefatigable love of life, of always being open to happiness and joy. She loved to have a good time, and it was impossible not to be drawn into the happiness when she was around.

When JoAnn told me that Lee was pregnant with twins, I smiled. No one would make a finer mother. Those kids would grow up knowing what it was to love, what it was to live, what it was to make a difference in the world.

It’s not right that someone so vibrant should be taken away so early. She had just given birth to her twin boys before she passed away, and it won’t ever make sense to any of us lucky enough to know her. A great light has gone out in the world, and though there are now two little legacies who will grow up hearing stories of how wonderful their mother was, it won’t ever fix the broken hearts she leaves behind. I like to think that she had gone to sleep happy and content, filled with nothing but the hope and joy that her new babies had given her. It is a thought that gives just the faintest of solace.

She was on my mind as I planted this year’s garden a few days ago. I thought back to that fall when we talked in the garden. Lee was one of those special people who saved the dahlias, who took the care to see them through the winter. She’d cut them back, brush the dirt from their tubers, and package them up for safe-keeping in the basement. Who will save the dahlias now? We needed more people like her in the world – the ones who would take the time and make the effort to help, to save, to celebrate, to love. We needed her here.

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On This Date…

Yesterday we had some web issues with the site, so it was down for a few hours. I was unaware, as I’m not online during the day (aside from FaceBook and Twitter on the phone) but as soon as I got home I managed to get it back online. This sort of tedious talk is what I try to avoid at all costs. And so, since I didn’t have time to do a proper post based on this, here are a few links to what was going on here…

One

Two

Three

and Four years ago.

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Rose of Lent, a Little Late

The Lenten Rose is still in full bloom. Traditionally one of the earlier bloomers, as it was again this year, it’s only coming into its own now because we had such a late start to the season. However, over the weekend it seems that Mother Nature decided to catch up a bit, and those peonies I thought might last after Memorial Day seem hell-bent on doing it on time no matter what. The Lenten rose continues its blooming cycle, and as this specimen is about ten years old, it’s mature enough to put on a lovely show.

These plants are notorious for taking their sweet time to bloom, but once they start, they offer this sort of scene rather reliably, no matter how torn and ragged last hear’s leaves may at first seem. It is best to cut them off if too badly worn – this also instigates a new flush of fresh foliage. At any rate, we are back on track.

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Top Banana in the Shock Department

“You mustn’t give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get, until they’re strong enough to run into the woods or fly into a tree. And then to a higher tree and then to the sky.”

On Friday, June 13, 2014, the eve of Capital Pride Albany, GLSEN will be holding their fabulous formal fete – and this year it will be based on a ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s‘ theme. I’ve always found that movie very glamorous, but with an undercurrent of serious and sometimes melancholy intent. The party will focus on the glamour and the fun, with an undercurrent of support for a worthy cause. There’s nothing I like better than a party for a good reason, and in this instance you get to feel good about feeling good.

This enchanting event will take place one month from today, on Friday, June 13, 2014 – the evening before the Pride Parade and Festival. As the only somewhat formal event of the Pride season, this is your chance to get dolled-up, slip into something spectacular (with a feather boa if it’s to your fancy), and mingle with some of the finest folks – all at the rustically elegant Albany Lake House. Relax – the black tie is optional – no one is going to go all Anna Wintour on your ass – we just want you to show up and enjoy yourself!

The event runs early, from 5:30 to 8 PM, so as to give you ample time for pre-Pride partying after our get-together. You may order tickets (starting at $40) at their website, www.glsengala.org, to insure you don’t get left out of the loop. All funds benefit GLSEN YouthPride and The Center Youth Scholarship Fund. I hope to see you there! (You simply must see my shoes…)

“It’s useful being top banana in the shock department.” ~ Breakfast at Tiffany’s

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Passages

The way out is more often the way through. Any time I think I’m going through something usually means I’m getting out. Corridors and hallways and passages from here to there. The ways we connect are infinitely fascinating. Such connections are the stuff of life. From the most basic synapse-to-synapse bridge, we survive by going from one place to another. Traveling. Life is movement.

Sometimes it ends with another passageway.

Sometimes it ends with a barrier.

Sometimes it ends with fire…

and sometimes it doesn’t end at all.

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Back to the Grind with a Recap

After a weekend in New York, with my Mom no less, one wants a little calm and quiet, even if it’s not set to be so for very long. Upcoming promotional jaunts for ‘A Breakfast at Tiffany’s Formal Affaire’ put on by GLSEN as well as this week’s Give Out Day on May 15, 2014 will occupy my radar in the next few days, and our annual pilgrimage to Ogunquit for Memorial Day weekend is less than a couple of weeks away (yes folks, the holiday is a bit early this year.) For now, though, a look back before I get a few New York posts together. Don’t rush me!

This is what happens when you leave it to the men to shine, and Madonna can’t make it.

Shirtless royalty, and naked Broadway hunks.

A bittersweet good-bye, hoping we get to spread some seed.

Our wedding anniversary, its sky-high cake, and all those glorious peonies.

Quite possibly the Best Video I Have Ever Seen.

Straight guy bone, and lesbian treat, Scarlett Johansson posing provocatively, with a peek of female nudity.

A tease of ‘Hedwig’…

And a Mother’s Day moment, or two, or three.

Last but not least, early May, though on the drab and cool side, was made a whole lot sexier thank to the Hunks of the Day, like Kenzie Roth, Ryan Terry, Girish Taurani, and Callan Bergmann.

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Mother and Daughter In the Gardens

On this day of celebrating mothers, it seems a good time to revisit this review I wrote on the HBO version of ‘Grey Gardens‘ that Andy and I saw on the big-screen when it premiered back in 2009. (In an outcome that never happens when I play the lottery or enter the HGTV Dream Home contest, I actually won tickets to the ‘Grey Gardens‘ screening in Boston.) That was a magical night, and the movie celebrates two magical women – a mother and a daughter – whose love forms the emotional core of a sometimes-disturbing deterioration, and ultimate celebration, of humanity. To all the Big Edies out there, this one is for you:

Before saying anything else, let me preface this write-up with an admission: I was not prepared to like the new version of ‘Grey Gardens’. The original documentary has the untouchable quality of a classic to it, and who else but Edith Beale could play Edith Beale? In this case, the two women chosen to portray big and Little Edie, Jessica Lange and Drew Barrymore, have never been particularly impressive to me as actresses, and the thought of their taking a hatchet to my beloved ‘Grey Gardens’ was enough to make me, in the words of Little Edie, “apoplectic”. Perhaps because I was expecting so little enabled me to enjoy it so much – and this new take on the Beale women is “an artistic smash”.

The original ‘Grey Gardens’ premiered in 1975, the year I was born. I didn’t come to know the documentary myself until 1999, when I found a list of the “Campiest Divas” in the movies. The usual suspects were all there ~ Better Davis as Baby Jane Hudson in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, Gloria Swanson as Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard, Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest – but all these luminaries were listed below the number one choice – Little Edie as herself in ‘Grey Gardens’. Who was this obscure lady who topped the others I knew so well? A small grainy photo of a woman in a turban accompanied her number one status, and I set about on my search for the movie.

I looked like mad for the title, but at the time it was not available. I sent Suzie on a quest in New York City to see if she could track it down, all to no avail. It wasn’t until a year or so later that Criterion released it, and since then it has become a favorite – so the idea of tampering with such distinctive material was a risky move for all die-hard fans. Thankfully, Big and Little Edie have proven themselves worthy of re-interpretation, most notably in a Broadway musical and now the HBO film version. At first I was dismayed by the casting choices of Barrymore and Lange, but I now have to admit that I was wrong.

Both actresses acquit themselves admirably of their roles. As Big Edie, Lange manages to be both sympathetic as a prisoner of her own social construction, and manipulative as the prison guard of her daughter. Barrymore is beguiling and brazen, tough but tender, haplessly innocent one moment, wisely wary the next. Her Little Edie is able to win people over despite her unconventional behavior and demeanor, and in flashbacks we get to glimpse the beauty she once was, which adds an unexpectedly emotional layer that the documentary could never quite conjure.

Every time I see it I am touched by something new. This version is somehow sadder, more poignant in the way it fleshes out what possibly happened between the two Beale women. Of course, no one will ever know exactly how it all came to be except for the Beales themselves, and neither one is around anymore. (Big Edie died just a year after the original documentary was completed, and Little Edie passed away in 2002.)

This time I was struck by how the world treats – and ultimately ignores and neglects – those who are different. I saw the story of two women trapped in the societal norm of having to get married and give up their dreams – whether that’s singing or acting or dancing or simply existing without the help of a man. I also saw how two people in the same situation – mother and daughter no less – can sabotage, manipulate and destroy in the name of love and loneliness and desperation – but I also understood how love could be enough to sustain them and fortify them against the world. Theirs is a brilliantly complex relationship, based on equal parts of love and resentment, fulfillment and regret.

There is something so sad and chilling when big Edie delivers the crushing final blow to her daughter, after years of living together, telling her that she’s an “acquired taste” and that no one in the world would ever understand her. That’s the price of being different and believing in yourself, and Little Edie, to her credit, did both up to the very end.

It remains to be seen whether audiences will get this version – anyone who hasn’t seen and loved the original may have a tough time getting past the idiosyncrasies and extreme living conditions of the main characters, but for me this was an exquisite homage to two women more vibrant and alive and interesting than anything anyone could ever make up. That out of the ruin of a run-down and forgotten mansion, memories of songs and summers past have survived to this day is a testament to the enduring character of Big and Little Edie. Somewhere they are singing and dancing and celebrating that their dreams have at long last been realized.

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A Midnight Reaping for Mother

The night was wet. It made things messier that way, but such was the state of the evening, and it was the only time I could do it. In matters of human-made holidays, nature is not obliged to oblige. I grabbed a large paper bag, a pair of scissors, and slipped out into the darkness. Pausing on the side porch, I allowed my eyes to adjust to the night. Beads of fallen rain glistened on the grass. The gate gave way easily, and I padded quietly onto the lawn. It was spongy beneath my feet. The road stretched to the left and right – I went left, up a slight incline. At the top of the little hill was the destination.

My shadow shortened then elongated as I passed a street lamp. If I was to be seen, this would be where it happened. As far as I could tell, I moved on unspotted, and if anyone did witness me they weren’t doing anything about it. There was another street lamp near the top of the hill, but it wasn’t lit. That made is safer, but more difficult to locate the prize. No matter – I smelled them before I saw them. I knew they were there. They could not escape.

I circled them first, squinting and scanning which area might give the least resistance, which would afford the easiest access, and when I found a break I leapt up and entered. There, in the center of the group, I wielded my scissors. Drops of rain fell about me, stinging my head. The grass shuddered around us beneath the falling water. For a few moments, I broke the silence of the night.

As each branch gave way, I dropped the lilacs into the bag. They were for a bouquet for my Mom. When I made it back home, I shook them out, then smashed the stems before putting them in a vase of cool water. They would greet my mother in the kitchen the next morning, as a Sunday surprise for Mother’s Day. Worth all the wet trouble they were.

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Happy Mother’s Day

As luck (and a bit of planning) would have it, I’ll be celebrating Mother’s Day with my Mom in New York City, as we will be finishing up our Broadway weekend today. Given the holiday, this is the time and place to extol the virtues of the woman who gave me life, and who continues to support and love me as she has for all of my life.

There’s a bond between mothers and sons that is unlike any other in the world. It’s one of those irrefutable bonds that, for those of us who are lucky, sees us through the best and worst parts of life. It’s made up of the special occasions like birthdays and holidays and weekends on Broadway, vacations and weddings and family reunions, but also in the smaller non-events like a surprise visit to drop off cookies or a late-night call when your heart has just been broken.

There aren’t many things in this life that one can depend upon – but a mother’s love should be one of them. In my case, it has been. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!

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Box of Hair

On nights like this, when the world’s a bit amiss,
And the lights go down across the trailer park…
I get down, I feel had, feel on the verge of going mad
Then it’s time to punch the clock…

I put on some make-up,
Turn on the tape deck
And put the wig back on my head…

Tonight, we worship at the altar of the Angry Inch, bowing down before the feet of Neil Patrick Harris, and flipping our sausage curls in homage to the big wig, the blonde wig, the one and only Hedwig. I’ve seen this a few times, including once during its original Off-Broadway run. I must say, I haven’t been this excited about seeing a specific performer in a role since Kristin Chenoweth descended in her ‘Wicked’ bubble and Glenn Close walked down the stairs of the floating mansion in ‘Sunset Boulevard.’  Doogie, don’t let me down!

I look back on where I’m from, look at the woman I’ve become
And the strangest things seem suddenly routine
I look up from my vermouth on the rocks,
A gift-wrapped wig still in the box
Of towering velveteen.

‘Hedwig’ has deservedly developed a cult-following as the representative for “the misfits and the losers” – someone who has been dealt a sorry hand by life, but somehow retains a resilient spirit of survival, and, against all odds, a certain celebration of what she has gone through. Like most of us, Hedwig is searching for that one other person who will fulfill her – yet it never reads as co-dependence or weakness – it’s the simple search for love. That journey is grounded in the darkest humor, but it’s often laugh-out-loud humor that both pierces and warms the heart. Make no mistake, Hedwig is always in on the joke.

Some girls they got a natural ease,
They wear it any way they please
With their French-flip curls and perfumed magazines
Wear it up, let it down
This is the best way that I’ve found
to be the best you’ve ever seen.

Tonight, she storms the Belasco, and I only hope my Mom is ready. I certainly am.

Sausage curls, chicken wings
It’s all because of you!
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Naked Broadway Hunks

The city is gearing up for this year’s big Broadway Bares event, so it seems as good a time as any to do a gratuitous post of the nude males of the Broadway stage. The gentlemen featured here are, I believe, all going to be a part of the naked festivities, and a few have graced this website in the almost-altogether as well such as Joshua Michael Brickman, Brandon Rubendall, Todd Hanebrink, Ricky Schroeder, and Nick Kenkel.

Other Broadway notables who took their shirts off here include Christopher Johnstone, Nick Adams, Adam Jacobs, and Mario Lopez (a Broadway baby for his ‘Chorus Line’ appearance.)

One day I’ll make it to the Broadway Bares event, but for now I’ll rely on Matthew Rettenmund’s encyclopedic recaps (and super-sexy pics and videos) at the bodacious Boy Culture blog.

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An Early Mother’s Day Surprise

By the time this is posted, the surprise will already have been revealed. For a pre-Mother’s Day treat, I got my Mom tickets to see ‘The Bridges of Madison County’ while we’re in New York – a bit of heterosexual love thrown in amid the midst of so much gayness. We are catching it just in time, as ‘Bridges’ is already set to close on May 18. It seems a shame, as many have indicated that it is one of Jason Robert Brown’s strongest works, and some of the most gorgeous music on Broadway at the moment.

This same thing happened when we tried to do a Broadway trip in January many years ago, only then it didn’t end quite as well. I’d gotten really good seats to ‘Side Show’ and ‘Triumph of Love’ (second and third row respectively!) and a few weeks before we were set to attend, they announced the closing of both shows. While heartbreaking, it was nothing compared to finding out that ‘Sunset Boulevard’ was closing a month before the performance for which I had front-row tickets (I don’t care if I had seen it three times by that point.)

This time around, it seems our luck has changed, as we’ll be able to see ‘Bridges’ before it shutters. It also packs this weekend with three theatrical experiences – a first since our Broadway tradition began way back in 1997. That’s a lot of drama for a couple of days, but as long as it stays on the stage we’ll be fine.

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A Friday Night in New York

A song for the city, a sip of the action, a stage for a show. In what Fitzgerald once referred to as the “enchanted metropolitan twilight,” New York can cast a powerful spell. Its energy is electric, its nights never end, and there is so much to do and see you have to remind yourself to stop and sleep.

I’ve never been a big fan of it. Suzie says it’s because I spend too much time in Times Square. That’s only partially true, but I’m still waiting for the city to truly capture my wonder. For now, it offers the merest hint of a flirtation, the beginning of a courtship that’s long been promised but never followed through. Thankfully, flirting is often more exciting than deflowering, so until that blush is off the rose, let’s tease a while longer.

Start spreading the news…

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