A Note To Millenials: There's "sharing" and then there's too much "sharing". Know the difference.

I am a firm believer in social media. Blogs, Facebook, Twitter, Grndr are all great.  It gives each of us exponential power to express opinions, share ideas, art and images.  However, as I move into my curmudgeon phase, or as the gays might say "becoming a bitter queen", I realize that sharing in the virtual world, is not really appreciated as much in the real world. At least not by me.  

For example, twice in the last month I've attended events that one would consider costly. The first one, was an awards dinner for two people who have done amazing work to fight for gay rights and have given a lifetime of service for the cause of social justice. The night was fun, both speakers gave wonderful speeches about service and selflessness. One actually went to the Supreme Court and defeated the national "marriage ban" for same sex couples. One speaker brought the entire room to tears with his speech about service to fight the AIDS epidemic and the hard work of getting marriage equality. 

So the night seemed to be coming to close, when a montage of a young attractive couple appeared on the screen. A lot of selfies and Facebook shots of these two twenty-somethings. Then you realize its a bunch of pictures of the co-host of the event. He comes up to the stage, invites his boyfriend up and does a marriage proposal.  Which is cute, I guess. It was peripherally connected to an event that honored people for their years of service.  However, my hubby and I did not spend close to $1000 to see activists who had accomplished amazing things being upstaged by a cute kid who thought he would hijack the event and really make it about himself.

Then it happened again. My hubby and I raised thousands of dollars for the HIV/AIDS ride,  Rode our bikes 165 miles from Miami to Key West and at the closing ceremony another millennial woman got up on the stage to read a passage with her wife.  They started to cry and said, "this is hard because my mother just died on Wednesday."  There was a collective "aww" sounding similar to the "aww" heard during the marriage proposal. She read her piece and stepped down. Did the mother die of AIDS? No, I learned later that she hadn't. It had become a topic of conversation with the riders afterwards. But again, the moment became about her grief and not about the cause.

I know this is nit-picky. But when you give a speech, or host an event, it's first and foremost about the audience.  It about graciousness and giving your all to make sure that they are comfortable, entertained, educated and or welcomed. Which means in many cases, means being selfless, taking your moment in the spotlight and remember the words in your mouth are not just about you. There is a delicate line between sharing a personal moment and just making a spectacle of yourself. 

A Year Without Faith, Less Church, more Mimosas.

So It was about a year ago that I had my falling out with religion and faith in general. Considering that the Pope just finished his whirlwind tour of the U.S. and Cuba I think now is a good time to reflect on this year of absolutely no religious activity (aside from railing against it) and how my life has changed.

First and foremost, my life is much more at peace and contemplative. As a child I never enjoyed church and always loved those Sundays where my parents were too busy, lazy or distracted to make us go.  They were lazy Sundays spent outdoors, like a skipping a day from work or school, a personal free day, knowing that everyone was busy, and you had the streets, woods, house to yourself.  I am glad to say, those Sundays are back. Lazy cycle rides and fun gay brunches populate my Sundays now.

Secondly,my family is profoundly uncomfortable with my anti-church, possibly atheist, fervor.  I cannot bring myself to step into a church. My mother is very worried for my soul which is odd because she's a Presbyterian. Short chats with family about her concern, and I thought Presbyterianism was the mayonnaise of main-line Protestantism, maybe there's some spice there yet. Also there are the small religious rituals, practiced reflexively over a lifetime I've let slip away. Saying grace, small prayers, even types of condolences seem fake, and I try to avoid them. 

Finally, there's just a general anger at organized religion in general, with its siren song of salvation, redemption and canned platitudes.  I had a glimmer of hope with the Pope with his glorious PR campaign and sweet words and then he runs off and has secret meetings with anti-gay crusader Kim Davis.  Which says to me that bigotry is tolerated, as long as it slips in the back door. As a gay man, it completely invalidates his messages and all the hard work he was trying to accomplish. It also reaffirms my disbelief in organized religion, whether its the Vatican or Coral Gables Congregational, religious leaders promote dialogue and inclusion but they only want to hear their own words repeated back to them and include only those who agree.

 "Waiter, another mimosa please."

Drag brunch....new traditions

Venezuelan Chavistas Tried to Commandeer My Pool on Saturday. (and why do communists have to be so cute?)

You may or may not know that I happen to run the local Masters Swim Team, the Nadadores. Which is celebrating 21 years in existence this year.  Each Saturday our team reserves 8 lanes so we can do our workouts. Hadley pool is a fantastic facility run by the City of Miami Parks and Rec Department and they have been fantastic for the last 10 years we have been swimming there. 

So, last Saturday I arrive at my local pool for practice and noticed there were far more swimmers at the pool than usual. My coach whispered to me that they were the Venezuelan National Team practicing in Miami for the Pan American Games in Canada this week. All excited I whipped out my iPhone and snapped a few pics of some very cute swimmers. Suddenly, a very officious, albeit handsome young man approached me and ordered me to stop taking pictures of his swim team. He was arrogant, rude and very cute, I knew that it was going to be a tense day at the pool. 

 No pictures without communist approval...

I quickly realized he was the team apparatchik and the only person authorized to speak to anyone outside the team. The coaches, the swimmers and entourage were keeping a far distance from the lifeguards and this young man was the only one doing the talking.  He was demanding that he should get the entire pool because they paid for it, they were practicing for the Pan American Games and they were the Venezuelan National Swim Team. What he wasn't aware of is that he paid only for half the pool, because our team pays for the other half.   I was not about to send my 25 swimmers home for a bunch of communists. Also, a significant number of my teammates are Venezuelan emigres, and I doubt seriously that any of them would appreciate being displaced again...by a bunch of communist Chavistas.

So Mr. Chavista Apparatchik argued incessantly with the lifeguard to push us out of our lanes to the kiddie pool.  Thankfully his arrogance fell on deaf ears of our own city bureaucrat who was on the phones with his superiors, on a Saturday, trying to accommodate two swim teams that had reserved the pool. We began practice as the poor lifeguard and the communist debated. Hitting a bureaucratic stalemate the communist had no choice but to come to me to negotiate for the extra lane he needed for his team.  Now instead of arrogant, Mr. communist was all smiles and niceties. "Por favor Señor, let us have one of your lanes....."  I remembered how arrogant he had been just 30 minutes earlier....his poor treatment of the lifeguards, the suffering of my wealthy Venezuelan emigre friends....but he was so cute, and young......."yeah, fuck it, you have the lane for 30 minutes".

" Oh, thank you señor." he said in Spanish.

Who am I to deny a cute young communist his dreams of medals?

I was left with these questions:

1. If they are so anti-American, why the fuck practice in the most anti-communist, anti-Chavista city in the U.S.?

2. Was it communist arrogance, youth arrogance or swim team arrogance on display?

3. Why didn't you just try to be nice in the first place and ask nicely instead of causing all kinds of drama?

4. I doubt I would have given him my lane if he wasn't so damn cute.....

Gay Ageists, Gaygists?

Just a tired old bitter queen.

So recently I seem to feel a spate of ageism on the rise in the gay community.  Which I find strange because in Miami's gay male community seems more integrated than ever.  However I've read couple of posts on social media and heard about few community events have been clearly ageist in nature and it saddens me because Miami does gay in a very different way than other communities.

What? Now I have to let myself go?

So in full disclosure this blog is called Miami After 40 because its about an aging gay man in his forties. (late 40s now)  As I think about changing the name of this blog to "After 50" and start pushing Geritol and Rose Hips, I feel a bit sensitive about agesim.  Also, since the generation immediately before mine, approximately 500,000 gay men, died in the epidemic, ageism wasn't really a factor for gay men, because there just wasn't enough "men of a certain age" to warrant it.

So getting back to ageism. Sometimes it can be subtle, for example a buff, ripped handsome 40 something year old man posted a shirtless selfie on Scruff. A hookup site originally intended for more hirsute, older (30+ ) men and their admirers. Not to be confused with Silver Fox which is another demographic entirely.  But I digress. The man who posted the shirtless pic was told to "dignify", "act his age" etc. etc.  He was actually annoyed enough to post the interaction on FB.

Sometimes it's obvious, like a pool party thrown by a group called Impulse, supported by AHF (AIDS Healthcare Foundation),  which targets young men for HIV prevention. Men over 40 were charged $50 at the door, men under 40 were free.  Which would fine, if it wasn't billed as a "community" party. Unfortunately,  their non-apology apology on their FB page didn't help matters much. A restatement of your mission statement is not really an apology is it?  Secondly, if they made it a private event, for guests under 40, with a guest list, the whole messy business could avoided a lot of hurt feelings and one less reason for us to hate AHF and its stubborn opposition to PreP.

Sometimes ageism is just internal. My Grandmother's favorite saying was always "Don't get old, the only thing that gets better with age is Jamaica Rum."   This slow degradation of the body, aches, pains, wrinkles, grey hair is not fun. Especially in a community where youth and vibrancy are valued. However, aches, pains and wrinkles are part of the human condition and I earned them and I should get respect for them. If I exercise, compete, work out, I do it for me, to stay fit, to stay "younger", not to pick up somebody younger. Because this is the only body I have and I've got to make it last. Because, let's face it, most of us if we're lucky, will be considering adult diapers at some point in our journey.

Yes, I feel that just being older automatically deserves a little respect.  Young people should just assume I have more experience and knowledge based on the fact that I'm older.  A simple "sir" will suffice. I'm cool with that. No, me being nice, is not me hitting on you, get over yourself.  Believe me, at some point they stop hitting on you, so just enjoy the attention that youth brings and show some respect for your elders. 

Leader of the (dog) Pack and Miami's Dog Parks

So inadvertently I became the temporary leader of my own personal dog pack.  I do have one dog, the perfect dog, but through the simple act of saying yes, for the last three weeks I had four pooches. Each dog, with the exception of my own, came to my home when I said yes to two friends who were traveling abroad, another is a dog I sit for a dear neighbor, the dog barks when left alone. I basically told both friends that I would sit their dogs while they were away. I didn't bother to ask what dates they'd be away and coincidentally both couples were leaving and returning around the same dates. I couldn't back out at the last minute and ruin vacations and friendships. 

My temporary "pack" of fierce dogs!

Creation of my Pack:

So packs seem to form organically. By Saturday I had 4 dogs and initially there was an adjustment period.  I learned that different doggie parents have different values when raising their canine companions. For example, house-training is a value I believe in as a dog owner. Dogs must relieve themselves outside. A stack of pee-pads came with one of the darlings and well I realized there were some different values regarding training. The problem is, when one dog uses pee-pads.....the other 3 felt like pee-pads, bathroom mats, and assorted floor coverings were put there just for any spur of the moment urination.  A second value I hold dear about doggies is that they don't sleep with me. Don't get me wrong I do not judge you if you sleep with your animals, it's just something I don't do. Call me elitist, but I am the alpha male and I sleep with other humans. I just want to keep at the top of the pecking order. When you raise your animals to your level, you're giving away your "power".  Whining  guests were quickly informed that the beds on the floor were for dogs. Any attempts to hop on the bed were blocked. 

So by the fourth day my pack began to act pack-like.  Keeping them all on the same walking schedule and food. I just mixed up all the fancy dog foods together, no use trying to each give them their "special food".  Like all dogs they slept for inordinately long stretches, but when they were awake they'd play and jostle and pee and play some more.  A leader emerged, Max, who would herd them in and out of the house and keep the dog pack working in a systematic, organized group. He'd poop, the other three would poop, he jumped in the back of the car, they'd jump in. The "runners" eventually fell into line and by the end of the week I didn't even need leashes to control the bunch. It was fun and fascinating and kept me entertained.

Going to Dog Parks:

So with four dogs I knew they needed exercise. I know people thought I was that "crazy dog person"showing up with four dogs. Also I didn't want to give off that "I'm a dog-sitter" vibe, because I went to college and have a job that pays. Plus I work at home and have a scruffy beard, so to a stranger, I might be some homeless dog hoarder that shows up with well groomed poodles. To me, having four dogs in not attractive, its just one dog too much.  My "pack" behaved well at the park and ran around and did all the normal dog things. 

Museum Park is lovely, not an "official" dog park. 

Good Dog Parks:

Best: Haulover Beach Dog park: Largest park around. Fenced in and has a small dog/big dog separation. There's a dog beach too.

Good: Blanche Park: Park is a bit small and crowded. Not much parking nearby. But it's fenced in.

Good: Pine Tree dog park: Fenced in. Shady. Dog owners were not friendly and gossipy about each other. If you go there stick to yourself and your dogs. 

Okay: South Point Park:  park is not fenced, too small, shrubbery around it. Good people watching.

Okay: Legion Park: fenced in but no grass, just dirt. poorly maintained dog park area.

Miami: Peaking and Sinking at the same time

So a series of events have combined to vex me about global sea rise. Let's be clear, I am no environmentalist. I don't recycle, I'm not a vegetarian, I drive cars that are questionably fuel efficient and probably meet the minimal emissions standards, So I know I have a lot of "personal work" to do on reducing my own carbon footprint. But I want you to know, I'm ready, ready to do my part to save mother earth or at least the fabulous patch of earth I'm currently inhabiting. I'm ready to tell climate change denialists that it's true. It's happening. And I don't feel like moving to higher floor on my condo because I hate elevators.

Lisa Beal: Saving the world and looking good doing it.

First of these events is my friendship with Dr. Lisa Beal.  Lisa is a world renowned oceanographer that works at the Rosenstiel School of Marine and Atmospheric Science. I lunch with her every Saturday after swim practice. She is amazingly fabulous. Smart English accent with her signature shock of purple hair.  She keeps me updated on the latest in fashions and global climate change. She is unequivocal about sea level rise and frustrated by the dogmatic denial climate change by local, state and national leaders. 

Can Miami make waders hip? No.

Second, is a recent article in The Guardian by Robin McKie that really depressed me.    It depressed me because it's seems so true. Unlike Jeff Godell's bombastic piece in Rolling Stone, The Guardian's piece makes a credible argument that sea level rise is inevitable and that our elected leaders, despite all the evidence around them, don't notice that its really happening. You don't even to say "I'm not a scientist", not to notice that parts of Miami Beach now flood during high tide. Which didn't happen before. Miami Beach just spent $500 million to pump the ocean off of Alton Road and West Avenue 1000 feet into the the ground.  Despite this, the King Tide that happens at full moon every month still requires fashionable waders to get to Purdy Lounge or shop at Publix. To top it off, State Employees are forbidden from using the terms "climate change" and "global warming". I wonder if they're allowed to say "sea level rise" when Ocean Drive becomes navigable by dinghy.  http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/jul/11/miami-drowning-climate-change-deniers-sea-levels-rising

Seas  rising? No such thing.

Finally, a freak winter storm flooded my neighborhood last weekend. As a native Miamian my father always warned me about all those neighborhoods "built in the swamp". Which is essentially everything west of 57th Avenue. Because of those warnings I've always been adamant about living on "high ground" which is basically most land east of 57th Ave. (the city extends west to about 190th Ave) High ground in Miami is about 12 feet above the current sea level.

I'm depressed about the whole thing. I walk and bike through Miami everyday.  I stroll through Morningside, Bayshore and Belle Meade and look around at the absolute beauty of this city.  The lushness, it's vibrancy.  I love it's new dynamic art scene, the amazing architecture new and old. I am so sad to think that within my lifetime all of it could just float away.  I don't have a plan, I'm not going to be a vegetarian or give up my BMWs tomorrow. I'll work on my recyling.......and tell my elected officials that it' true and fancy Bass Pro Shop waders are just not going to cut it. 

Blog as Art and Why I like Being Called a Whore.

So, in the last few months I've received some critiques about several personal blog posts. Which in turn helps me to think about how I might reply.  Should a blogger answer to his critics? Especially a blogger like myself which mixes hyperbole, personal experience and combines them with a love for a particular tropical metropolis?  I mean a general "fuck you" could suffice.  However I consider this blog more along the lines of art form and not at all about journalistic integrity. I write to please myself and hopefully, sharing it will entertain the reader. I would like to outline the general type of the critiques I've received and in turn I will address them. 

I would like to state 99% of my critiques come via my Facebook page, Some on this page, some via email, some via text.

The Diva

I can't tell how many times people have told me that my blog is "self centered" that it's about being a "diva". That it's narcissistic. Yes, yes and yes. I don't see "diva" as a derisive. It is a woman's (usually one in very comfortable shoes) favorite brickbat to throw at a gay man who has outsized gayness and expects to be treated with respect and not as an object of pity. I will own my diva-ness and wear that badge with pride. In my own life I am my own diva.....and shouldn't we all be? I pity the person who resents another for accidentally or purposely being the center of attention. This critique was rampant during my whole "loss of faith" posts....I guess I'm just not one for being one of a flock.

The Douchebag/Piece of Human Garbage

I love these little bon-mots.  I get visuals of Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate and the phrase "plastics" comes to mind. That being said I try to keep discourse at a higher level and name calling is just intellectually lazy.  Try harder.

Whore

I just love being called a whore.  No really, I do. It's such a funny/sad/poignant word. I mean anyone who calls me a whore has some really serious sexual hangups of the whole "unresolved mommy issues" variety.  Plus the "whore" visuals in my head are fantastic. I mean who can forget the "midget hooker" post that caused a ruckus in my former church.  I mean I try to be frank about sexual matters and if that makes me a whore, giggle, then so be it. Gay men have always been considered sexual rebels whorishness just comes with the package. 

How Dare You!?!

Dearie, I dare. How dare I be an out gay man, open about my HIV status, about my husband, my contented petit-bourgeois homosexual lifestyle and still look good, feel awesome enough to ride a bike165 miles to Key West and live in a city that is peaking and sinking all at the same time? I double dog dare. I don't see any of my writing as "daring" or "brave" its just me creating an interesting portrait. I do have the "audaciousness" to live my life in the open, and really be cool about the things that happen to me. Hopefully my example is one part "warning beacon" and two parts "case study".

 I do go back read my blogs all the time. I can honestly say I am not ashamed of single word I've written. So my "audacity" is just me putting stuff out there for my own entertainment. I can't draw, sing, or play an instrument, but I know how to string a sentence together. I do welcome your comments, even the angry, bitter ones. So while I hope my foibles are entertaining, I hope they make you think too. 

So, I accidentally outed myself as HIV Positive on Facebook.

So I accidentally outed myself as HIV Positive. I was responding to a moving article in the Gay Star News about those of us who survived the epidemic back in the 80s.  http://www.gaystarnews.com/article/survivors-1980s-aids-crisis-reveal-what-happened-them020215? .  The article was moving, I clicked to comment about my own experience and before I knew it, the article and my comment about sero-converting in 1988 was posted to my Facebook page. Initially I was ashamed.  An hour had passed before I noticed what I had done. I figured, well, it's out there, I wasn't secretive about it when I initially found out at 19, but at the time I was told I would have "at best three years" and to "get my affairs in order." So I really didn't see the point about being secretive. Now I can't imagine what affairs a 19 year-old would have to "get in order." but I didn't die and that was a great disappointment. I had envisioned the maudlin tragedy of a young emaciated man being wheeled off some podium after receiving a diploma and quietly dying 20 minutes later. Instead I am far from emaciated and far from that 19 year old boy that received that diagnosis. 

So after my "accidental outing" I really did have to sit back and think about this journey. How I live in the city that has the highest infection rate in the U.S. and the real apathy around the issue.  I will be honest, HIV infection to me, at this time in my life, is no big deal.  I know that sounds terrible. That I should be suffering a gigantic emotional cost, that my prospects and my dreams should some way be diminished because of my status, it's just not true.  It's simply 3 trips to the doctor a year and two pills a day. That's it. Of course I am an educated, affluent, white(ish) male and I do understand that I have the resources to make my HIV management simple.

That is not to say I haven't paid some price along the way, and that perhaps there are opportunities I didn't take, or worries about illnesses, or just plain "fuck, I'm infected"pity parties. But those I'm sure have been far and few in between. After realizing that I wasn't going to die, hell I didn't even get sick, new treatments came out, I got married, raised a child and my HIV status faded into the background. Many of battles protecting HIV positive individuals in housing and employment were won. Life moved on.

Oh crap, TMI.....

So the article touched me, I wanted to share, inadvertently sharing it with 450 friends on Facebook. The responses were touching, but I feel guilty being commended for being alive. Often times I've been asked by people "how do you live with HIV, how do you go on?"   I always sarcastically answered in my head: "well what's the alternative?"  My usual answer is: "I just do what my doctor tells me." To the many friends on Facebook who shared my "outing", well thanks for thinking about me, I am and always have been very embarrassed about my HIV status because I made a mistake......but hey I was a teenager. Secondly thanks for being friends and some you know a little more about me than I planned to share, but you're my friends and it shouldn't matter.   

WE ARE MARRIED!

27 years ago I was arrested for being gay. Not because I was having sex in public or being lewd or anything like that. I was in a bar, we were rounded up and put in a truck and booked on various charges. Mine was "battery" which means touching someone without their consent.  When I got to the booking person at the lock-up I was informed "pay the $1000 fine, or we will publish your name in the Tampa Tribune and St. Pete Times."  Me being me, I refused to pay the fine.  52 other guys did pay the fines. So the Tampa Police made $51,000 in four hours to herd people into a truck and book them on trumped up charges. 

Miami, Florida, 1996, I volunteered for SAVE Dade to fight to add sexual orientation to the County's anti-discrimination charter. 

It wasn't a chapel, but a Credit Union 

San Diego, California, 2006. My partner of five years says "meet me at the Credit Union on the corner, I need you to do something important."  I get to the Credit Union right before the close of business, we walk up to the teller and ask her to notarize our Domestic Partnership Papers. At the time in California, domestic partnerships were a "marriage equivalent".  I was allowed on my domestic partner's health insurance plan. 

Miami, Florida, 2007 I get hired by SAVE Dade to be their Field Director. Worked on campaign to fight Amendment 2 the "Marriage Amendment". 

Miami, 2007.  My  husband and I are redefined as "Domestic Partners" when we register as domestic partners in the County's "business bureau" not in the Marriage office.  Domestic Partnership is not recognized outside of Miami-Dade County.


San Diego 2008, I become LEGALLY MARRIED in the State of California. Marriage is not recognized anywhere but there. 

Miami, Florida 2008.  Obama elected and Amendment 2 passes. "Marriage or any equivalent thereof shall not be recognized"  My spouse and I are officially  un-domestically partnered.

Miami, Florida 2013. DOMA was struck down by the Supreme Court of the United States.  Family income goes up by $100 per month because we no longer have to pay taxes on benefits to spouse.  Marriage is recognized by Federal government, for all Federal benefits including Social Security.

Miami, Florida January 6th, 2015.  I AM LEGALLY MARRIED!  

State of Gayness in 2014

Based on personal experience, gay men execute weddings flawlessly. 

Well, it's time we look at the year in review and see what gayness 2014 looks like.  Pivotal changes that redefines gaydom as we know it. 

1. Gay Marriage: Well, many states, 25 to be exact, legalized gay marriage following the heels of the Supreme court decision. In total 35 states now allow for gays and lesbians the freedom to marry any person they choose.  Still there are 15 states to go. 

Yes, this is a "thing".

2. "Peak Beard" for straight men and gay men, 2014 was the year of "peak beard".  Facial hair has been exalted and hirsute men can rejoice.  A complete pendulum swing from shaven, boy look of the past and the future. 

"Excuse me, where is the restroom?"

3. Freedom to Gender Express yourself. Be a girl on the inside, be a boy on the outside or any combination thereof.  Gender Expression is now protected under the Miami-Dade Human Rights Ordinance. Despite the whole icky "bathroom rape" scenarios brought on by the religious right. I've used the ladies room plenty of times when the men's room was locked.

80's much?

4. "Shaven Pompadour" or the "reverse mullet" the new gay clone look for 2014.  The mullet is short on the sides, long on the top and back, The shaven pompadour is short on the sides and long on the top and in the front. Important to have one lock covering one's eye. Product is a must. 

5. Cross fit. Cult of fitness? I won't say too much about this, but it looks like a conspiracy between personal trainers, chiropractors and Lulu Lemon to make a LOT of money doing amazingly unsafe calisthenics. Not denying it works....especially if you believe that beauty is attained through pain and danger. Combined with power protein concoctions you're gonna look and feel great.

6. Ambiguously gay, gay ambiguity reigns in the millennial crowd. "Straight
Acting" to the front of the line please. No Fats, or Fems still a favorite GRNDR byline, especially among bottoms....self-hate much?

7. Truvada Whores.  Of course if you take a pill to prevent HIV.....you are a whore. If you wear a condom you are a.....saint?  Sex shamers demand to control your sex life, want to take away personal choices for preventing HIV.....for fear you might enjoy sex "guilt free".  What's wrong with a little condomless guilt free sex? Well, it could be like the 70's all over again....whores in bell bottoms? Well that would be bad, wouldn't it?

8. Gay Cruising....on the ship kind of cruising, not the Al Pacino "Cruising".   Whether you're doing the "SS Bathouse", "Loveboat" or with your aging mother
on Celebrity Cruises. Cruising(on ships) has taken the gays by storm. Even if you go on a "straight" cruise, there's always a "Friends of Dorothy" happy hour.  You can always find the gays at the martini bar or sauna if you don't know where to look. 

How romantic?

Coral Gables Congregational Church Restricts Internet for Members, "City of Coral Gables denies permit for a pillory in front of church" (Faith Less, Faith Lost Series, update)

Pastor Laurie at Gay Pride: A "good" witch? 

"No matter where you are in your spiritual journey, you are welcome here." is the tag line of United Church of Christ and the Coral Gables Congregational Church. The UCC is part of the original denomination that entertained the Salem Witch Trials. It's clear in 2014, it hasn't strayed too far from its roots.  Recent events, specifically a post written by this blogger, has forced the church to review the internet activities of its members and force leadership to sign a promise not to write anything negative about the church in blogs, Facebook or personal webpages.

Since approximately one third of its 600 members are on various boards and committees, they are now restricted from expressing themselves freely on the internet. The church leadership was quite swift in it's punishment of this author after writing a mild criticism of poor sermons by un-mentored new pastors and its blatant cultural insensitivity towards Latinos in it's alteration of it's long standing baptism policies. http://miamiafter40.blogspot.com/2014/09/faith-less-seven-year-itch-to-leave-my.html

Spouse! From now on please refrain from blogging about CGCC!

Apparently, barraging dissenting members with negative emails questioning their Christian faith, demanding spouses turn on each other "for the unity of the church" and forcing members to shun offenders is not enough.  One church leader demanded that the spouse of said blogger "take away his internet privileges." All through this the Senior Pastor, Laurinda Hafner sat in silence as leadership attacked both this blogger and his spouse.  The Senior Pastor decided to "break covenant" with our family, which according to sources, is some serious pastoral shit when it happens.

That being written, I can't express the pain that writing that blog has caused my family. My father and his family ,who are still members of the church, were upset with me for not expressing my opinions "tactfully".  The pain was especially acute for my husband, who was the "leader" of the church, who was forced to resign his leadership position over my blog post. Subsequently he was shunned by leadership and members. As recently as last week a few members asked him not to tell the church that they had wished him a happy birthday. Really, you have to hide birthday wishes to a person who you prayed next to for the last eight years? In my opinion don't even bother sending wishes at all.

Furthermore, I never realized the extent emotional entanglements that being part of a faith community entails. Family, friends, business colleagues can all be connected through church.  The subsequent awkwardness when you've chosen to leave, or they've chosen for you to leave is half pain and relief to see if they will retain the relationship or not. The hardest part are the ones who remained silent through our grief and are vaguely aware that "something is happening" but prefer not engage for fear of repercussions from church leadership.

Covenants break too.....

Finally, the holidays.  I can't express the sadness caused by loss of a faith community during the Holidays.  Thanksgiving dinner was peppered with questions about church. Lamenting losing the traditions of Candlelight services on Christmas Eve, which no church does better than Coral Gables Congregational. The fact I won't be sitting with my Dad after 20 Christmases together at that church is heartbreaking on so many levels.

 I do take responsibility for my actions. I couldn't in good faith go to an institution which showed it's true colors when I questioned the church, it's policies and it's pastor. A church that shuns, bullies and punishes members "who have stepped out of line".  Now it prevents dissent by censoring members, this confirms that the decision I made to leave was the right one.

Anger Management

From Here

At some point in your life you realize that you have issues. Hopefully not a whole lot of issues, but at least a few that might make you lose an hour or two of sleep here and there or might make you want to buy a gun and run around naked pointing it at people and asking the question "who's laughing now?"  However at this age your issues tend to be in the "losing sleep" category not in the "naked gun toting" category.  

I came to the realization that maybe I should see a therapist because I was pissed all the time. So pissed that I was physically tired, exhausted, even depressed a little. Don't get me wrong, I've go a lot reasons to be pissed off, they may be small and insignificant, but really they add up. For example yesterday I saw a Russian tourist opening all the jars at Costco.....which pissed me off because A. they were Russian and I watched Red Dawn last week (the original) and they invaded Ukraine. Ugh,,,,ruined my whole day. If fact, there are a lot of shenanigans that go on at Costco, like line cutters,  cart thieves (I actually had someone try to take my cart),  last sample food item grabbers (one per customer please)....I could go on and on. 

So even a simple visit to a big box warehouse store is fraught with minefields that can set me off. Last month I decided to go into therapy and stop being pissed.  So the first thing I learned is that I don't have an anger management issue. Why?: because the court did not order me to be there. Which is great, because I have a fascination with mug shots ( you can find them online and post comments on them) and I worry that mine might make me look bad. I do have a mugshot out there, but it was done in the 80's so fortunately it hasn't made it online. but if you find it....post it here. 

So I love my therapist, she's  this very cool lesbian, which was a deliberate choice. I have issues with women, straight men, and I'd try to hard too impress a gay man....so there's not a lot of baggage tied up with a lesbian therapist.  I like her because she yells affirmations at me like "you need to deal with your shit" and  "stop fooling yourself". Which is what I need, because affirmations are always best delivered by an tough lesbian than some milquetoast gay man who shuts down when I don't use "my indoor voice".  Kind of like affirmations from my favorite Facebook Page: Skeletor is Love. https://www.facebook.com/skeletorislove

So I've learned I only have two emotions: happiness and pissed off.  I'm not saying that I'm not happy", but apparently there are a whole bunch of emotions that I could be feeling other than "pissed off" I'm trying to put words to them other than murderous, histrionic, and "get the fuck away from me".  I'm looking for more subtle grades of emotions, so I can express "fuck you" in a calm and sensible "adult" manner.  

So change is in the air folks.  Soon all my interactions will be calm and measured. I will not give into anger. I'll breezily walk by the whiny New York hipster, complaining that Miami is not "New York with better weather." I'll ignore the brickbats thrown at me by family and strangers alike. I will breathe, release and smile.  I will get a prescription for Xanax.  No more anger. No more anger. rinse, repeat.

To here......

Miami after 40 (but I'm lying and saying I'm 50)

So I know the title of my blog is Miami After 40, but my birthday is coming soon and I realize I'll be just three years shy of the big FIVE - O.  So I've been testing the reactions of people when I say I'm 50. Which to this point has been great. Of course I don't really act 50, but I do strive to act at least 40 which out of my over 4 decades on this planet, the time after 40 has been the most fun. 

My most recent experiment was at Haulover Beach. Which in case you don't know is a "naturist" beach. The naked truth of the matter is that if you're naked, it is the small lies that can be told to help you keep a small shred of dignity.  Also, by 50 you should have dignity down pat.  So I'm hanging out waist deep in the ocean, excuse all the puns, and a very cute very 34 year old Colombian started chatting me up. He was from Medellin, some kind of government worker pretty in the way only Colombian men can be. We chatted about the weather, the surf, and he asked my age......

"50, cinquenta," I replied in Spanish. A broad grin crossed his face, he wore braces.
 No really, braces, I really felt dirty. 

"Ay Papi, mejor todavia". I know this is lost in translation, but "oh Daddy, that's even better" is just what an aging gay man wants to hear at the nudist beach, or the spa, or just about anywhere. Coming from a cute young man with braces, my flagging self-esteem was restored.

I'm going to comfort myself in the belief that in Latino culture, a "man of a certain age" is considered "sexy".

The next "50 bomb" I dropped was at a Critical Mass bike ride last month. It was a long ride and towards the end I split off to go home. A young guy came up to me and mentioned my bike and asked how often I worked out. He then asked my age.....I hesitated....then said 50 .  "Wow Dude, you look awesome."  I am glad he didn't finish that sentence with the demoralizing "....for fifty". So it's going well, 50 seems almost magical at this point.

It's good because most things are "baked in" by 50. I don't know if my ass will fall any farther in the next three years, or that crows feet will set-in if I don't start moisturizing. I am at the point where making big changes are starting to feel a bit "too late in the game" and truthfully I don't want to make them.  My favorite aspect of the backside of 40 is just the resiliency, stuff is going to happen, but I know I'll get through it. Saying "late 40s"seems kinda sad....it's like being a "tweener" too old for some stuff, but too young for other, better things.  I can hardly wait to start writing my "Miami after 50" blog. 

Green is the new black, a visit to the Women's Prison Camp in Coleman

I figure at some time in your life someone you know or care about winds up in prison. If you're lucky it's not you.  So last weekend I hiked up to Coleman FL, to visit a relative who unfortunately got herself caught in a Medicare fraud dragnet and found herself doing a long stint in the pokey. 

Now she is family so I feel weird about her absence. Having someone close to you in the hoosegow is definitely weird.  It feels like they had a small death. I mean you go through all the usual grieving because they've gone away. However, they're still in your life through phone calls, internet and family gossip. Also, you're a bit angry that they got caught up in some kind of criminal activity. However you want to forgive, and give the benefit of the doubt as well. 

So I went up to the Federal Correctional Complex in Coleman Florida. Weirdly, I knew where it was because I have some clients in Leesburg and Bunnell. When I passed the complex the first time I was pretty sure I'd never drive by there again. It is one of the largest correctional facilities in the U.S. and it reminds me of a corporate park, with razor wire.  My relative is in the women's "camp" which is a minimum security prison. There are no guards, just a few rent-a-cop security types.  Prisoners can walk away if they want, but the cost would be double their sentence doing "hard time" in a state prison.  

So we arrived and I filled out the form and waited outside for an hour. The security guard was a jerk, barking orders at the visitors. No one wearing tight clothes or sandals were allowed in.  Why? No idea. The guard would come out every so often and wave people in to the complex. He was happy to scowl. We were searched and metal detected before we were allowed into the visiting room. Which was stupid, since I could have just walked around and gone in an unlocked side door.  

Turns out the whole complex is like a large community college. Prisoners run the system mostly and there are a few administrative folks and a warden.  There is a factory that makes office furniture, inmates assemble, sell and deliver the merchandise all over the country. They are paid five dollars a day. With that money they buy internet, phone time and personal effects.  They wear smart olive green uniforms and scurry

across the campus with purpose. When they are not scurrying, they can work out, join a sport team, sew or watch TV.   The workout clothes are the grey shirts and shorts like we wore in gym class in high school

Like this, but not as hot....work boots, not heels.

My relative waited for us in the large visitor room. Children scampered in and out of the play room. Lots of hugs, some tears. Prisoners were busily chatting up their families for gossip and news.  Most of the ladies were young, under 40.  Many were very attractive. The majority were Hispanic and African American. Mostly from Miami.  

I did feel a lot of hopefulness. The prisoners, the families, the young lovers were all smiling holding hands. They talked about their work at the office furniture factory, the different activities at the camp. We were introduced to bunk mates. Then it was time to go. Which was fine, it's a long way from Miami. However, since most of the prisoners I saw and met were from here, it wasn't. 

Faith, Less, Faith Lost: Fake People (Last in a series)

Who's the "real" Dad?

When my husband I were raising our son we often were referred to as the "gay" Dads.   Which is fine because I am proud to be both. What always amazed me was the curiosity that people had as for which one of us was the "real" parent.  Very often after we introduced ourselves people would make this remark.  Of course if there is a "real" parent, then by order of elimination there would have to be a "fake parent" as well. If there is a "fake" parent, does that mean they get a free pass from PTA? Does the "fake" parent just do the fun stuff regarding parenting like Christmas and Birthday cake? Are they exempt from having to sit at the pediatrician's office or worse, the principal?

I find this to be a recurring theme about gay "acceptance" as well. This idea of real and fake.  I mean in asking about relationships people commonly ask: "who is the woman in your relationship?"  Which of course implies that there needs to be some dynamic regarding penetration, dominance, and some other hetero-normative values. Of course gay culture doesn't diffuse these questions either because gay men (like some straight men) can take Halloween drag to extremes. Then of course are the gender-bending sensibilities that gay men embrace with gusto such as decorating, arts, fashion which until recently were strictly the domain of women and a few effete hetero men.

Those gay boys, so "plastic"

So that brings me to the idea that in general, society sees gay men to some degree as "fake" men. Too often gay men and their female allies address gay men as "boys" or "gay boys" regardless of age and accomplishment.  Too often people can't understand how homosexual men arrange their lives to suit their penises which is probably different for everyone else, I'm not sure.  What I am sure of is that outside of our professional endeavors we are often seen as a bit two dimensional, one of those dimensions being our sexuality the other being our "immaturity." I mean in America, work is work and you're usually judged on how much, or the quality of your work. I work in sales, I make quota, who cares who I sleep with, it's the one place where I'm not "fake". That is a huge advantage we have as Americans. If it's an issue for you, take it up with the Human Resources Dept.

I think where we are considered "fake" is in our new marriages. I remember when I was sixteen and got my new driver's license, my older brother said "what you think you can just take the car a drive around now?"  Yes, that's exactly what it meant. However in his eyes, I was still his little brother he had to drive around.  I think to some degree straight people might still have that attitude. "What, you've been legally married for six months and you think you know about marriage?" is an attitude I'm encountering. Granted we've been together for 19 years and raised a son but those years "in sin" don't count do they? I remember when my former church had a big "gay" wedding and a church member asked me when I would have a "real" wedding at the church? At that point I had been legally married for six years.

Earlier this month I decided to leave my "progressive" church, Coral Gables Congregational.  The Church Council decided the best course of action was to discuss with my husband, the church moderator, that he take away my internet privileges and take down my blog....without my consent. He was asked to "distance himself from me publicly but support me privately". Words like "proper contrition" and "denunciation"were suggested as possible measures. All this from a church that claims "An Extravagant Welcome." I have seen the emails. The senior pastor was copied on several days of emails, and even after my husband resigned as leader of the church, the demands continued.  At several points that week we asked ourselves if this would happen to a straight couple. I mean could a wife or husband in 21st century America really deny their spouse access to the internet or "distance themselves publicly, while supporting them privately". At this point I realized that to the heterosexual council members we were "fake" people.  That somehow we were not whole or real and our relationship and marriage were not real either. Or the council members who proposed this were just douche-bags which I feel is another, very real, possibility.

So, in conclusion. Gay men, don't sell yourselves short. Being called and calling each other "boy" is really demeaning on so many levels that if you think about it, should make you angry. It adds to our "fake" identity as men.  As for everyone else you might think what I have in terms of love and relationships as some kind of(fake) pale imitation of what you have. That gay men are somehow people with "special needs" who want coddling in some kind of "open and affirming" program.  May be, maybe not....but we're not fake. Our struggles are very real, and in a lot of ways, more "real" that what any straight relationships might go through.

A GAY MIAMI SWIM TEAM. Yes, Nadadores of South Florida, Celebrating 20 years of Chlorination.

In this era of gay rights successes, marriage equality and openly gay Olympians why would Miami, or any city for that matter, need a gay Masters swim team.  I mean the landscape for LGBT men and women has changed so much that anyone of any orientation should be able to walk on a pool deck or beach and jump in. Why do you need a Gay Swim Team?

As Team Captain I'd like to say "you are truly welcome here!" We invite people of all swimming abilities from former Olympians to doggie paddlers.  Our program accommodates everyone. We welcome all body types, which is important, because too often I hear people staying away from swimming, or life, because they feel they don't look good in a bathing suit.  We strive for friendliness and camaraderie. You will not be a stranger with us!  

Firstly I'd like to thank John Roe and John Olsen for setting up the team 20 years ago. Mr. Roe was really quite understated about the foundation of the team and really just started it because he wanted to make his job more interesting at the Scott Rakow Youth Center in Miami Beach.   He was dealing with kids all day and thought adding an adult masters team would make things a bit interesting. Knowing other swimmers was helpful, but at the time South Beach was at it's gay peak and he advertised for swimmers in the personal sections of local gay magazines such as Hotspots and Wire. 

Guys showed up and a swim team was born. The name Nadadores was chosen because it reflected the diversity of South Florida and the team's slogan "Go Nads!" is a double entendre was not lost on anyone. Throughout the years the team has competed in international competition in Sydney, Copenhagen, Chicago, Paris, Reykjavik, Cologne and Cleveland.  Several members of the team compete nationally, Cory Welch  qualified for the past Olympic trials in breaststroke and is ranked 1 in the world in Masters breaststroke. 

Miami's bathing beauties....

What do we offer? We offer professional coaching, group and private swim lessons and a good time. Practices occur at an excellent swim facility or join us for our weekly ocean swim on Sundays. Please visit our website at http://www.nadadores.org/.

So how "gay" is our team. Well, is anything as gay as it used to be?  The team boasts a monthly roster of about 80 people. They hail from all over the world and the U.S.  Are they mostly gay? No, the days of us being exclusively gay are long gone. There are plenty of guys and gals on the team, but we don't ask, but if we find out we will tell. Couples have met on the team, and we have officially two marriages to our credit, one straight, one gay.

Having fun in this year's suits!

So getting back to the original premise of the "why" for a "gay" swim team.  Truthfully we could say it's about needing a safe space, or a comfort zone, or a "birds of a feather" experience.  However as LGBT community becomes more integrated, the need for such things is fading away.  What is needed however is a group of people can share a passion for something outside of themselves. To spend an hour submerged splashing around, burning an amazing amount of calories with really nice people. That's what the Nadadores of South Florida is about. It's about fun, fitness and competition. 

NO MATTER WHAT YOUR SWIMMING ABILITY, YOU ARE WELCOME TO JOIN US.

Come celebrate 20 years of fun with us a Noche Nadadores!  Thank you Miami for making us a success!

Faith, Less. Faith Lost. An apology to Coral Gables Congregational Church.

What my faith looks like today.

The Apology

I'd like state unequivocally that I am sorry. I do have a bad habit of trying to be truthful. It's hard and often I fail. I have to remember that my truth is not everyone's truth and that I am also a coward at times and hold back, until I just get so frustrated that I vent my truths like diarrhea all over the internet.  I'd like to apologize to all the "newly minted" pastors of Coral Gables Congregational Church.  I could have vented my frustration with each of you personally and instead of just sitting in the pew and smiling my fake smile, I could have shared my concern for you and for the church. At least you might have known you had at least one critic who felt that you had a bit to go before you "nailed it." Which I sincerely hope all of you do one day. I do want you to know that I tried to address this in committee and with church leaders but nobody really wanted to talk to me about it.

I apologize to my husband. Honey I'm sorry my actions caused you to suffer. If it had been different I would have taken  the heat for my actions. I deeply, deeply apologize for the pain that others inflicted on you on my behalf.  You are a gentleman and far more loving and Christian than those who claim to act in Christ's name. 

Losing My Faith on 9/11/2014

So I lost my faith last week. On Wednesday, September 11 to be exact.  It was on life support the week before, and thought my blogpost was a "cry for help" so to speak. http://miamiafter40.blogspot.com/2014/09/faith-less-seven-year-itch-to-leave-my.html I thought my church would say "hey, let's save his poor, scrawny faith, I mean he's on the internet, whining about it."  So the faith 911 went out and the associate pastors and senior pastor contacted me. One actually dropped everything a came and talked to me, let me vent, which was cool. I booked meetings with the other two pastors. This is where things started coming off the rails.  Well, I guess both of them were looking for contrition and a "take back". I didn't want to give a non-apology, apology, because I really do stand by my "truths." 

I promised that the conversations I had with them would remain confidential.  The talks I had with them were unproductive and I guess the hurt I caused blinded them to any explanation I had tried to put up. Which in all honesty was probably lame.  I'm saddened that being called "culturally insensitive" and "second rate" are accusations that warranted the ensuing sturm und drang.    At that point I seriously realized that pastors are really human and don't take criticism very well. My mistake, I had been blinded by my own weakening faith, and belief that these pastor people were something stronger, with god on their side and all. 

What fun, a conga line of unicorns!

A Faith Trampled to death to the tune of Miami Sound Machine's "Conga".

I look at the corpse of my faith and it smells. Tuesday night I had this nightmare that my faith was bound and being stomped on by a conga line of church council members. They were dancing to some stupid psuedo-latin tune played by that has-been band Miami Sound Machine. Since then I've actually gotten nauseous when I hear them on the radio.  I can't figure it out, but suddenly I absolutely hate that band with a passion.

Unicorns

So, yeah I'm leaving. I'm leaving on advice of friends and family. Every Sunday the pastors state the following: "No matter where you are in your faith journey, you are welcome here."  "You don't need to check your mind at the door."  "We are an Open and Affirming Church".   Sadly, those sentiments, god,  and  belief in unicorns are all about the same to me.