Too Late; This One Was Already Recruited

     

My brother Richard was just a few years older, but our social lives didn’t really intersect until we moved to Miami and I got a best friend who was stacked.   Rich hung out with a group of guys from around the neighborhood who liked having her around.  I came with the deal, so it was a time in my life when we went places together a lot.


       It was 1977 and I was 17. This betty crocker clone named Anita Bryant was on a campaign to root out gays from school system employees and public service workers. She was a celebrity because she sang a jingle on TV for Florida orange juice and she was hateful in the Name of the Lord.

       We talked about the issue in 4th period journalism and every night I read about it in the paper and on TV news, but I’d never heard my brother talk about it. We were riding in his car with me in back and Dennis riding shotgun, on our way to Peacock Park to play Frisbee when we passed a gay bar on the corner.

          Richard said, “A bunch of dumb asses from Palmetto’s football team went over to pick a fight with the gays in that bar. They thought it would be real easy because they’re sissies. But when they started the shit, the gay guys chased them out with whips and chains.” He thumped on the steering wheel with his palm, “Whips and chains!”

           I said, “You don’t see anything wrong with being gay?”

           He said, “No, I don’t care as long as they don’t try anything on me.”

          I said, “With that mug, I’m thinking you don’t need to worry.”

         He said, “Back at you, slim.”

         That was a couple of years before I, too, became a gay, but I knew he wouldn’t turn his back on me. Richard was a real good guy in those pre-grown days, and he turned into an amazing man.