J.P.

Whenever I start a new programming project at work, the words of my very first computer teacher, way back in high school, stick in my head: “Never start a program with a GOTO statement.” My project, which ran on an Apple //e, was dinged five points by Mr. Kotschevar because I didn’t follow that advice. 

Whenever I’m landing an airplane, something that I can do quite well I might add, I can still hear the voice of my flight instructor and good friend, Chuck as I make my final approach: “whatever you do don’t get flat. Don’t get flat!” The way I approach a runway there’s not much of a chance that I’m going to get flat, but I still hear his words.

Words stick with us. Words make an impact. Words linger for a long time.

Every once in a while an activist in the gay community (I can never keep up with all the letters) will write an editorial stating that the gay community should reclaim the word “queer”. This thought stems from the way that some African-Americans have reclaimed the “N” word. The argument goes that by reclaiming the word queer, the power to hurt with that word dissipates and we own the label.

The truth of the matter for me is that I don’t want to be labeled.

Back in the early 1970s there was an episode of “Match Game 73” that included a question that went something like this: “Did you hear the latest about Batman and Robin? It turns out they’re _blank_”.

The contestant filled in the blank with “queer”. Nanette Fabray wrote “Fairies”. Elaine Joyce and Bobby Van wrote “Queer”. There was some decency on the panel: Charles Nelson Reilly wrote “Divine”. Richard Dawson wrote “Married”. Brett Somers feigned shock at the answers the others wrote and chimed in with “Lovers”.

The Game Show Network doesn’t show that episode anymore.

I can’t tell you the number of times that I was called “queer” when I was in high school. I have to admit that it didn’t sting as much as being called a faggot, which happened quite a bit as well. I still bristle at the word faggot. A friend jokingly said faggot to me not too long ago and I surprisingly reacted rather emotionally to the word even though he meant no harm and I knew that. 

Words linger on for a long time.

I can understand the argument for reclaiming a word and by doing so taking away the negative connotations and power associated with it. The thing is, I don’t really want to be labeled. I’m just me. When I was in college a girl named Tracy (she was from Long Island) asked if I preferred to be called gay or would I prefer homosexual. I replied that I wanted to be called “John” (this was before I was more insistent that I be called J.P.).  Yes, I am a gay man, I have a husband and I have had homosexual relations for 30 years (quit counting on your fingers, Mom). I’m happy with who I am and I’m comfortable with my sexual orientation. But I don’t want people making assumptions of me based on stereotypes that have historically been associated with words like queer or fag or gay or anything of that nature. Self-imposed expectations of being a gay man held me back for too long. The word queer held me back for too long.

As I prefer to say, if you insist on labeling me then remember this:  I’m just a guy with a husband. While being gay is part of who I am, it doesn’t even come close to describing the full view of who or what I am. I don’t need a label, I don’t want a label, I don’t find any sort of empowerment in labels and I don’t really identify with any sense of community that chooses to label themselves with a string of letters or words like queer.  

You can be as queer as you like (and it even pained me to type that sentence) but don’t expect me to get in lock step with your labeling system.

So I am seven days into my “Three in 30” challenge and I think things are going well. I’ve made one important discovery: Facebook is (unfortunately) becoming somewhat of a necessity in my life. The social network is becoming as pervasive as AOL was in the late 1990s and this frustrates me. My contributions to Facebook have been minimal, but it’s the way I stay connected to friends scattered throughout the country and the world. I had to compromise that aspect of my three in 30 challenge to minimal interaction instead of complete isolation.

Compromise is occasionally the name of the game.

Yesterday I elected to set aside all computing devices during my lunch hour. My brain needed a rest from the intensity of being a husband, a pilot, a career minded software developer and the like so I took the opportunity to drive to the local Park and Ride and just let the breeze blow through the Jeep as I watched the clouds roll by.

It was quite calming.

I used to practice a similar exercise back in the days when I commuted 55 miles one way to the office; long-time gentle readers will recall my blog entries from a shopping center parking lot where I would see a pleasant cat on a daily basis after securing an iced tea from the local Dunkin’ Donuts. I rode out blizzards, thunderstorms and beautiful days during my lunch hours parked in that parking lot and I found the practice to be calming.

Watching the clouds roll by with all electronics turned off is just what I needed. I recommend folks try unplugging once in a while just to recall what things were like before we became so technology dependent.

Back in the days of Windows 98 through Windows XP, Microsoft used to feature the “Bliss” wallpaper as a standard desktop feature. Legend has it that Bill Gates designed that wallpaper himself as it reminded him of lying in a field as a kid, watching the clouds roll by. It was bliss to him.

I firmly believe he was onto something.

While I’m out my morning bike ride I allow my mind to wander a little bit. Sometimes I reflect on a dream that I had before waking up, sometimes I think about work, a lot of the time I think about flying. But once in a while I just let my mind go into full geek mode and allow myself the freedom to think about anything that might pop into my head.

One of my favorite places to ride in the morning is along Main Street in the nearby village of Whitesboro. Whitesboro was in the national news earlier this year when the village’s citizens decided to keep the official Village Seal, depicting a settler wrestling a Native American. Some find the depiction to be outside the guide rails of political correctness because it looks like the settler is strangling the Native American. I wasn’t present at the wrestling match that inspired the seal, so I’ll refrain from comment on that.

Main Street used to be NY Route 69 before the building of what is today’s Oriskany Boulevard. The boulevard is the result of the filling in of the original Erie Canal, which passed through the village long ago. With the relocation of Route 69 onto the new roadway, Main Street was bypassed to a certain degree. New bridges were built and other roads were relocated. Today there isn’t much traffic on Main Street. Much of the retail establishments moved to the busier boulevard long ago. The homes along Main Street still have their early 20th century majestic appeal, though I believe some of them have been converted to multi-tenant dwellings.

At the west end of Main Street, just west of the village boundary, a short bit of roadway was built to connect Main Street to Oriskany Blvd. The remaining portion of Main Street was turned into a No Outlet roadway. In the picture above, I’m standing on that bit of roadway, near what remains of the small hamlet of Carey’s Corners.

I don’t know much about Carey’s Corners outside of the fact that it was prominently listed on old maps up until the late 1950s. I believe there were several buildings demolished for the building of what carries Route 291 over the adjacent railroad to the north. What is currently labeled as “Carey Road” (another dead end roadway) probably made its way onto present-day 291 (what used to be Route 12C until 1972) to take one out of Carey’s Corners to the north.

Little bits of highway history like this make me wonder what today would be like if we as a society didn’t develop such a fondness for automobiles and the building of the modern day Interstate system. Would life be as fast paced as it is today? Would many of us be living in crazy high high-rises while others still lived a rural life out in the country? Would suburbia as we know it be a thing? Shopping Malls? Big Box Retailers?

Many things changed in the mid 20th century with the drive to move out of the cities, follow the freeways and set up life in the suburbs. I really do wonder what life would be like if that mass migration hadn’t taken place. I’m sure the United States would be a markedly different place to live today.

Last night I declared to anyone within earshot that it was time for me to take the doors off the Jeep. I always look forward to this moment because it means that it’s warm in this neck of the woods, and that doesn’t happen a lot. Luckily Earl was the only person within earshot. I told him to put on his pants and a sweatshirt because we were going to drive to the thriving city with the doors off.

It was a chilly night but off we went and it was a lovely experience. I’m happy that we were smart enough to put on hoodies or something of a similar nature but it’s such an awesome experience to see the road whizz by right beneath your feet.

I’ve co-opted a spot in the garage so I don’t have to put the doors on when it rains. I’m looking forward to exploring the sunshine over the next couple of days.