Camelot and Chaos

"Camelot"

I was 9 years old in 1960 When John Fitzgerald Kennedy and his running mate Lyndon B. Johnson were elected to the top offices in the land. Kennedy was a Senator and Johnson was Speaker of the House at the time of their election.  Johnson passed the Speaker ship to fellow Democrat and Texan Jim Wright.  Wright represented the district in which my Mother served as Precinct Chairman and Election Judge.  Her relationship with Wright would prove to cause me problems later on down the line.

I was not yet 13 when President Kennedy was struck down presumably by Lee Harvey Oswald upon which there is still some conjecture.  Oswald himself was in turn killed in the basement of the Dallas Police station while being transferred to the County Jail by Jack Ruby who later died in jail for the crime.

The years in between JFK's election and his untimely death came to be known as the era of Camelot  alluding to  the "handsome King" JFK and his "beautiful Queen" Jacqueline.  It was a  magical time in America that had its fair share of challenges much the same as that time in my life. 

During the election however, much of the discussion nationwide was not political but religious.  JFK was the first non protestant to run for president.  He was a practicing Roman Catholic (even if not always faithful to its tenants).  I could not understand the big deal at the time as I had a Catholic girl in my class and she was as nice a person as I could hope to meet.  JFK picked Johnson as a running mate for a couple of reasons.  Number one, he was Speaker of the House with a large constituency in Texas as well as a Southern coalition that could deliver the Presidency to JFK.  Here in Texas, most of the folks voted for Kennedy because of Johnson who was a good ole boy from Texas with a lot of political power which did and still does count for a lot politically here in Texas.

In the Spring of 1961 after Kennedy's inauguration and the first magical 100 days in office.  I had the first magical experience of my young life at still the tender age of 9.  I was in the fifth grade at Glen Park Elementary School and best friends with a boy named Neal.  We had been classmates since first grade and best friends for a couple of years at that time.  Neal introduced me to my first sexual experience period not withstanding that he was another boy.  I knew and trusted him so when he came to me and said he was going to teach me how to screw, I said OK.  Being the naive young fellow I asked him what screwing was while around others and he shushed me then explained later.  Typically, it happened at recess and of course in the boys bathroom.

At that time in my life most little boys were into sports and such as well as "being nasty".  Basically we all played the game of rack 'em which is where one boy tries to be the first or best to bop another boy in the balls.  There was a tall athletic kid in my class named Bobby that was good at everything.  One day before my experience with Neal I was behind Bobby in line as we filed into the bathroom after lunch.  He had a large bulge in his pants for one his age and I reached around with both hands and grabbed his package and manhandled it rather roughly for a moment where upon he of course groaned.  After the queasiness in his stomach passed, he congratulated me for getting him so good which raised my stature among the other boys just a bit.  I was sort of chubby and asthmatic as a kid so sports and running were not among my strong points, so I needed whatever "boy points" I could get.  Unfortunately I never got to see Bobby's developing package for myself as he drowned accidentally  in Lake Arlington the next year.

I often played along with Neal with the girls at recess.  We seemed to have more in common and I could play the games they enjoyed.  Neal and I had become best friends because we were much the same when it came to sports and having more in common with the girls than the boys.  I had already come to realize I was not like other boys but not exactly how and I had already begun to subconsciously feel my Mother's disappointment with me for some reason.

One day at recess Neal and I went to the bathroom which was not unusual for the teacher as we often did everything together.  He led me to the last stall and began to explain about "screwing".  Neal was a tall boy and had a man size dick if not much hair yet.  He took down my pants and underwear and his, laid his dick in the crack of my ass and began to masturbate me.  I was amazed at the feelings coursing through my body and my mind was awash with sensation.  I did not ejaculate but I had my first dry orgasm which literally drove me to my knees in pleasure.  It was the first time I ever thought my "pee pee" could do something besides leak water.  It was to be our secret he said, to which I readily agreed.  Needless to say I was worthless at recess when we returned but I really did not care, I was still basking in the glow of the most intense experience of my young life.   And I could tell no one about it.  Our secret games continued until about the seventh grade when my older brother and his friends humiliated me on the way home from Neal's house after a sleep over.  We never played again and he became increasingly flamboyant while I became confused and withdrawn with the first signs of bipolarity exhibiting themselves.  Back then they called it manic/depressive but it amounts to the same thing.  I did not receive any treatment as prayer and supplication was supposed to give me peace of mind.  I did give a big mixed bag of emotions but peace of mind was not among them.

In those days the 7th grade was the first level of Junior High School with the 9th graders being the top dogs.  My older brother was a 9th grader when I was in 7th and a favorite with everyone it seemed especially our band director Mrs. Mildred von Tungeln (more often referred to as Ms von).  At that point I was the pale imitation of my older brother and felt awkward, out of place, out classed and thoroughly confused.  I could not be like my brother, and I did not want to be someone as flamboyant as Neal.  I just wanted to be some one other than me.  It was also at this time that my obsession with "bad boys" began.

There was a boy who was chasing the girl whose locker was next tot mine.  He was a tall, handsome Italian who wore the tightest white pants  I had and have ever seen on a guy.  You could count the wrinkles in his scrotum (really, I swear to god!).  My infatuation with him led me to want to emulate him as much as was possible.  He was a bad boy with rolled up sleeves whether long or short along with the whipcord body as well as the aforementioned white pants.  He also smoked, which of course led me to ask him to teach me how.  He did and I was a sneak smoker as my Mother and the church were totally against it even though my Dad was a smoker.

I did not equate my infatuation with him as "good or right"  just damn desirable.  Which added to the quandary growing in my brain as to who and what I was as all the feelingS I was having were in the "bad side" of the equation according to my Mother and my religion although I could not discuss my secret with her or the church.  This led to more depression as I had absolutely no one in which to confide.  I did not feel God would listen because my Mother was his appointed spokesperson and she would never and did never understand, accept or come anywhere close to warming to the idea that one of her sons was a homosexual.  It was also about this time, I believe it was in Bible School the Summer before seventh grade when I was complaining about having to leaRn all these long Bible verses to my Mother.  She turned to me and said "My girls can do it, I don't see why you can't" and walked away.  It was at that moment the realization came that my not being one of her girls or her daughter was the source of her disappointment with me.  This added to the chaos in my brain as I was not, could not and would never be one of her girls or her daughter.  This was mind fucking to say the least.  And still there was no one in whom I could confide.  By the time JFK was assassinated that fall which sent the world into chaos, the chaos in my brain was drowning out all rational thought.  I hated me and I knew that God did not or could not love me as it was so pronounced by both my Mother and my church.  From this point on until the day my Mother died, I tried to make her proud of me and failed. I will never recover from that failure as even on her deathbed she asked me "Please don't let any of my friends find out that you are gay, I would be so ashamed".

Now she is gone and the chaos in my mind became too much and I finally found someone I could confide in and have been confiding in her ever since.  I will be forever grateful to her for helping me make the chaos into music in my mind.  There are many chapters yet to come between then and now, but I have come to the end of my energy for today.  We will pick it up yet again next week when you come to visit me again. 

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For your listening pleasure today, I thought I would take you to the movies  so to speak and feature Movie Music composed by Luigi Bocchereini.  Luigi Boccherini, although thoroughly Italian, wrote several pieces in the Spanish Style, two of which figured prominently in the movies.  The first piece is Guitar Quintet Number 4 in D Major "Fandango".  This piece was the musical centerpiece of the Kevin Costner movie "Fandango" with all the movements used throughout the movie including several intimations of the finale which is the fourth movement "Fandango", the love theme featured in the movie's finale.  This performance is by Eros Roselli, guitar and La Magnifica Comunità. 

The second piece also in the Spanish Style was featured in the Russel Crowe movie "Master and Commander, the Far Side of the World".  The main theme of La Musica Notturna delle Strade di Madrid - Op. 30 n. 6 was featured in a scene in the Captain's cabin with the Captain (Crowe), the Doctor and the First Officer playing this piece with Crowe playing the Cello part.  This performance is by Manfred Kraemer (violin I), Pablo Valetti (violin II), Angelo Bartoletti (viola), Bruno Cocset (violoncello I), Antoine Ladrette (violoncello II) and Le Concert des Nations / Jordi Savall (conductor).



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Finally for today, I have a retrospective look at some of the finer images sent to me by the Photographer Biron, whose multicultural images are strikingly beautiful while allowing the viewer to intimately connect with the subjects themselves.  You will find the retrospective posted just below.  Thanks for the visit, come again and often.  And as always, Enjoy!