"Don't play to the result."

A few weeks ago I heard two speakers with very different backgrounds give lectures on opposite ends of the education. The first was Billy Collins, former U.S. Poet Laureate spoke and read some of his amazing poetry at a local community college. The second was Michael J. Fox who gave the keynote address at homecoming weekend at one of the better known private technical schools in the United States. In opinion both men were not the best speakers but they certainly got the message across.

Billy Collins is not an overpowering figure. He’s a very laid back man with a balding head, basset hound eyes and soft almost monotone voice the picture image of a distinguished professor of poetry. But as I heard him speak and read some of his poems I noticed a certain quality in his voice, especially when he read his poetry. There was a certain “Fuck ‘em all” tone to him as he spoke which I appreciated immensely. Now I don’t know if he got that way with age or by being U.S. Poet Laureate for two years running or if he’s always been that way. After all Billy Collins is not the conventional poet in literature. He wrote poems like Hippos on Holiday and Pornography for god’s sake! I guess that’s what I like about Billy Collins, he is unconventional and something a little unexpected. He may look the part of a poetry professor but it seems as though he stayed true to himself and stayed true to his writing and made it all the way to his own office in the Library of Congress. That was a lesson I needed to hear that night.

In some weird parallel universe Michael J. Fox was the opposite of Billy Collins when it came to subject matter. Billy Collins took what some people in the literary world would call a serious subject (poetry) and made it funny. Michael J. Fox made a career out of being funny but he spoke about something serious…living. When I saw him walk up to the podium on the big screens mounted all around the auditorium the first thing I noticed was the tremors. You saw it in his body and heard it in his voice. But when he began speaking I started to notice it less and less because of his words. Granted what he said sounded like he was read the speech, I imagine this is the only way he can get through it. He spoke about living despite all obstacles and even though things seem bad someone else probably has it worse than you. The one thing that did stick out in my mind was a little piece of advice a director gave him on the set of a movie he was shooting. The director told him, “Don’t play to the result.” As an actor you have to be in the moment even though you know what’s coming. As life lesson, being in the moment was something I had forgotten. But life quickly reminded me.

Over the last few months I’ve been told to except certain things that are against my nature. I’ve been told lying is ok, infidelity is acceptable, and things that affect me are none of my business. I was told I was liked and then pushed aside without knowing why or given a reason.I was told something that did affect me but I was scolded for standing up and saying something (ironically enough by the person who told me in the first place.) With all of these things I’ve been told I should just take the emotion out of it and not speak the truth about any of it. I’ve been made to feel ugly, worthless, ostracized and small. I’ve been made to feel this way by people who I considered friends, people I trusted, people who all along only had their own interests in mind and their own secrets to keep. I feel sorry for them. I almost pity them for the lives they lead, the emptiness they must feel to keep such secrets and the walls they’ve built not allowing the world in. I know I was true to myself and spoke the truth instead of keeping secrets or lying about it. I’ve lost a few friends over this time but I know I’ve done the best I can .

You can’t play to the result; you just can’t and as much as I’ve tried in my life these last few months have proved it to be impossible. I’ve had a lot of things come out of nowhere that I would have never expected. Like a phone call from someone telling you a person you love has been taking pills to help them “focus” on their work or an oncoming car around 11:00am on Sunday morning. Life has forced me to stay in the moment and at this point I don’t dare skip ahead.

Return of the Demon Light!

This past week I was engaged in a vehicular struggle between good and evil with the demon battery light in my car. Finally, that vile thing has been vanquished from my dashboard but not before sucking the life out of the “Sliver Bullet” just after I thought it was gone for good.

The little demon light had been taunting me for weeks coming on then going off, on, off, on, off. Never showing itself when it was supposed to, which was usually when I pulled into the garage to prove to my mechanic I wasn’t nuts. Finally on an off day the light was on while I was there and they took the cat right in. This was the Friday of last weekend. After being in the garage all weekend I got the “Silver Bullet” back that following Monday with a new battery and alternator. That Tuesday the little red led vampire reared its ugly head again after being in the garage all weekend and apparently tricking the garage guys it was fixed. It showed itself mockingly on my way to my mother’s house only staying a twenty to thirty seconds at a time. I thought nothing of it and figured I was no worse off than before. But I would take the car BACK to the garage AGAIN and give those guys what for. I made it safely to my mother’s house and stuck around for while to give the car a rest.

As I left my mother’s house the evil light returned but again only for a few seconds at a time…for a few miles. Then it began to glare at constantly and only when I accelerated. I could hear its tiny little malicious voice saying, “Hahaha! Thought you were rid of me were you? NEVER!” I made it three quarters of the way home before the lights dimmed, the engine stopped and the car went black. The only thing I could think of as I sat in my dead automobile was,” At least I don’t have to see that DAMN light anymore!” The whole scenario was like a scene from a horror novel. It was raining, my phone was dying and my car had broken down but I wasn’t on a deserted road I rolled into Wegmans parking lot. I called AAA to tow the car back to the garage and then I called my friend to meet me there to take me home. I thought for sure the demon light had won.

The next morning (after getting another ride to work) I stopped at the garage to make sure they saw the dead car in the lot. When I walked in I didn’t have to say word. The head mechanic saw me come in and said with extreme determination, “You’re the priority today.” He had that same look on his face as the priest from The Exorcist. He was out to get that evil red light once and for all. I came back to the garage that afternoon and walked into the office where I was the mechanic hunched over the desk. He looked like he had gone twenty rounds with the devil himself. He handed me my keys and told me I was all set. I thanked him for his help and got in the car. I turned the key staring at the spot with the demon light lived for the past few month waiting for it to appear again. The car started no light. That night I drove the car for an hour and half straight, no light. It’s been almost a week now and still no light. I think I can safely say, “This car is clean.”

Baby's First HIV Test

If anyone had told me a few short years ago that I would be a parent, I would have laughed right in their face in disbelief. I never had any desire to be a parent. I never wanted that kind of responsibility, at least not again. Growing up an only child of a single mom who was practically a child herself when she had me was hard enough. Living with my mother most of the time I had to be the adult, the mature one, the responsible one.

When I turned eleven she thought I was old enough to stay by myself after school and no longer needed a babysitter. Looking back I don’t think she wanted to pay the sitter anymore or she couldn’t. By age thirteen my mother thought it was ok to leave me on my own at night while she went out drinking. I didn’t think I was old enough to make my own dinner and to put her to bed when she came home drunk. Granted that only happen one time but at that age, once is enough. From age fourteen on, even though I lived with an adult I was pretty much on my own. By the time I was eighteen my mother thought her job was done. Looking back she did the best she could under the circumstances (at least that’s what the therapist helped me understand.) So I did my duty and it was my time now. So yes, I would have laughed in someone’s face if they told me at age forty-one I was going to be a parent. And I would have been wrong.

For the past three years I have been a surrogate parent (aka. Fairy God Mother) to a bouncing six foot one, slim, brown eyed, wavy haired, dramatic, funny, sometimes annoying but very caring and about to turn twenty-one boy (aka. Fairy God Son or F.G.S.) I first met Michael just after he turned eighteen at a friend’s annual New Year’s Eve party. I have known Mike and Tina Turner (yes, that’s her real name…laugh it up) for years ever since I had moved to the city and loved attending their annual holiday bash. Their daughter Tasha was home from college and had invited Michael to the party as well. The Turner’s loved Michael as if he was one of their own. Both of them attended the School of the Arts together and for the longest time Tasha had a feeling Michael was gay. Of course, it was hard to dispute the girl’s assessment; after four years at the School of the Arts her gay-dar was razor sharp. Two minutes after meeting the boy I could see that she was probably right. Sure enough, about two weeks later I got a text message from Tasha.

“Michael finally admitted he was gay! Can he contact you if he has any questions?”

I texted her back. “Of course he can, I would be happy to answer any questions he has.”
Turned out Michael’s revelation came about when he met one of Tasha’s gay friends from college at that same New Year’s party. Michael thought the boy was cute and the two became quite close in the next couple of weeks. Eventually Michael decided to tell his mother about the new aspect about himself. Being a pretty straight forward kid decided it was time to let the rainbow colored cat out of the bag.

“Mom…I like boys.”

She paused for a moment, turned and said to him, “I know dear.” And that was that. You see, she had always known he was gay. She was just waiting for Michael to come to her rather than dragging it out of him. So her casual reaction to his coming out was comforting to Michael.

Over the next few months, Michael and I corresponded over text, instant message and email. We would chat about things such as school, his friends and I would answer any questions he had regarding sex or whatever else was on his mind. Each time we “talked” I tried ending the conversation by driving home the relevance of safe sex. I know it sounds very “after school special” of me but it’s important! He was also curious about the gay community and the different groups that are a part of it (bears, lesbians, transgender people etc.) So I would try my best to answer any questions he had (I have to admit even I don’t understand everything about homosexuals and the things they do.)

As time went on we grew closer and bonded as only a parent and child could. We found out we have more in common than expected. Michael also grew up the only child of a single mother who was not ready to be a mom either. Neither one of our fathers existed for us; mine passed away before I was born. Michael‘s father is in South America somewhere (Michael was a souvenir he mother brought back.) We both had to grow up faster than we should have and when we turned eighteen we were old enough to be on our own (at least that’s how our mothers saw it.) I remembered what it was like being eighteen and essentially on your own. So I “adopted” Michael. Eventually he would move in with me and turn my world upside down from then on.

Some months later Michael met another boy named Ramsey, who would soon become his first real relationship in his young life. I didn’t meet him right away but from what I gathered from various intelligence reports (namely Tasha) they complimented each other very well and seemed to be very taken with one another. Along with the happy news came rumors of Michael having unprotected sex with this young man. Now, another thing I never thought I’d be at this age would be my mother. But sure enough as soon as I got wind of his sexual antics I was possessed and became “Mommy Dearest.”

Tasha of course told her mother about Michael and what he was up to. Being the caring maternal soul that Tina was she decided to have all of us over for dinner so we could ambush Michael. When I cornered Michael about playing fast and loose with his health, not to mention his LIFE he was taken a back a bit. He wasn’t use to someone being parental.

“What have I always told you? Were you not listening? Where is your head?” My mother’s voice said while using my mouth.

“Well you know, you get caught up in the moment and things happen.”

“I don’t want to hear it! We’re taking you to get tested tomorrow.” I really didn’t want to hear it.

I knew exactly what Michael was talking about. The year before I ever met Michael I had two HIV scares and one was from unprotected sex. The other I did use a condom but my partner found out a few months later that he had HIV. Luckily both tests came up negative. Up until that first time I thought people were stupid to have unprotected sex. How could they put their lives at risk like that? So I thought. Now I know it has nothing to do with smart or stupid. You do get caught up in the moment. The situation you’re in builds up such momentum to the point that you can’t stop it until it’s too late. Afterward the guilt and shame are overwhelming. I went to my family doctor to get tested and had to wait three days for the results to come back. Three days of not knowing if I allowed one mistake to alter the rest of my life or end it. This is what I was trying to convey to Michael.

After reading Michael the riot act, it was Ramsey’s turn. I demanded Michael get him on the phone or I would call him myself. I don’t know how I would call him because I had never met the boy but I was determined. Michael dialed his cell phone and muttered something to the fact, “you’re about to be yelled at” and handed me the phone.

The conversation started off something to the effect, “Do they not have condoms where you live!?”

The rest of the discussion seemed to roll along nicely after that.

The next day Michael and I met Tina at her house to take him for his HIV test. Tina volunteered to drive but both Michael and I refused to get in the car until she took the magnetic sticker off of it advertising the yarn shop she worked at. I mean it just wasn’t cool to drive up to an AIDS clinic with a picture of a kitten playing with a ball of yarn stuck to the side of your car. What would people think? Reluctantly Tina to the sticker off and we were on our way to the clinic.

There were several places for us to go to get free HIV/AIDS testing done so we chose the one that was open at that time. Also, that particular clinic wasn’t in the best part of downtown. Our hope was to scare Michael straight (so to speak) so that he would consider his actions next time. Being a single mother with a kid Michael’s mom couldn’t afford to live in the best neighborhood so considering where Michael grew up, this whole “tough love” approach could completely back fire on us. He wasn’t the kind of kid who was easily intimidated. As we pulled up we all noticed what looked like a three or four homeless people having lunch in the alley outside.

“This is it. Let’s go,” I said with a slight grin on my face.

After staring out the window of the car looking at the neighborhood and the homeless people dining on their lunch el fresco, he turned to both of us as if he had seen the Reaper himself.

“Please can we go somewhere else? I could catch something just sitting in there. Please.” The plan had worked.

“Well, if you continue to have unprotected sex this maybe the only place for you to go to get tested,” Tina said, trying to contain her laughter at Michael’s panic.

“But isn’t there any place else we can go now?”

“The other clinic opens at five. We’ll go to that one,” I said reassuring him the other place was in a much nicer area.

We found out later the clinic did provide lunches to the homeless on a regular basis but also provided a needle exchange for intervenes drug user. I think we were all a little relieved we didn’t go in.

Before we headed off to the other clinic we had some time to kill so we decided to take Michael to a gay friendly shop in town to get him condoms and lube so he would have no excuse not to have safe sex. Now let me be perfectly clear, I am not in the habit to take eighteen year old boys to porn stores. The best way to describe this place would be to call it a queer oriented corner store. Once we arrived I walked in first with a nervous Michael close behind and Tina last. Even though Tina was bringing up the rear she never fails to make an entrance. How could she not? Tina was a stocky woman in her late thirties of German descent that stood about six-one who would talk to anyone and had a bawdy infectious laugh you could hear a mile away.

“Oh I’ve been in here before,” Tina said as she unwittingly slammed the door.

Everyone turned and stared at us; it like one of those moments when someone says something wildly inappropriate just when the music stopped. As if Michael wasn’t nervous enough going into the store now he had a look on his face as if he was ready to make a mad dash out the door and back in the closet. But I explained to him everything will be fine and we’ll leave quickly as possible. I escorted him up to the counter to purchase what he needed. Michael’s eyes and head kept darting around the room like a bird as if he was waiting for something to swoop down and carry him off.

“Can I help you?” the man behind the counter said to us.

“He needs condoms and lube please.”

The man pointed at a small bucket near the back door which was full of free condoms provided by the local AIDS organization. Michael walked over and grabbed bunch out of the pail then came back to the counter. He thought he could just walk out with those but I informed him he’ll need some lubricant as well. The cashier asked him which one he would like, motioning to the large variety of tubes and bottles behind the counter. I think out of embarrassment, without looking, Michael just pointed in the general direction of the display.

“You want the weekender?” Michael had pointed at the half gallon dispenser of lube sitting on the top shelf.

“We’ll take that one,” pointing at the smaller tube on the lower shelf.

Michael quickly made his purchase and ran for the door. On the way out I grabbed Tina who at the time was chatting with a man from her bowling league and we all left the store. Living in the city most of her life sometimes it seemed like Tina knew everyone and if she didn’t she would soon enough.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I asked Michael.

“There was no safe place for my eyes in there!” He gasped.

Tina and I burst into laughter as we made our way to the car. We still had some time to kill before the clinic was open so we decided to get some ice cream to reward Michael for composing himself in the store. The day was beginning to feel like a family outing, a twisted gay version of “Leave it to Beaver.” Only it wasn’t a math test Michael had to pass. At one point Michael went as far to ask, “If I pass my test do I get more ice cream?” I knew he meant the ice cream as a joke but I was beginning to wonder how much of this was really sinking in.

Five o’clock rolled around and we took Michael to the clinic for his test. When we entered I nudged Michael to the front desk and he told the woman why he was there. She handed him a clipboard with some forms to fill out and we sat down. After a few minutes Michael paused and tapped on the shoulder.

“Do I fill in this part of the form?”

“Michael, you’re not a pregnant woman.”

Meanwhile, Tina was acting as if she was at a church social. She knew almost everyone who walked through those doors. One guy was part of her knitting circle, one of the nurses was on the same bowling league and she went to high school with another guy. Even her current neighbor made an appearance, twice. The first time he saw Tina sitting in the waiting room turned right around and left. She spotted him the second time; the poor man didn’t stand a chance.

Michael completed his forms and returned them to the receptionist then waited for his name to be called. I looked over at him sitting next to me, he tried to keep a grin on his face as if this was no big deal but his worried eyes told a different story. In a few minutes they called Michael’s name to come in the back for the test. He got up and walked over to the physician’s assistant who would be administering the test.

He asked the man, “Is it ok if Mark comes back with me? You see I faint whenever I get blood drawn.”

“No, I’m sorry no one else is allowed to come back with you. You’ll be fine. We use an oral swab here it gives us quicker results,” the man said. Relieved Michael followed the man to the back while Tina and waited impatiently in the lobby.

When Michael returned we all sat down and waited for the results. Much like me he’s not very good at expressing these types of emotions but I tell he was a bit nervous on what the outcome might be.

“What did they say to you back there?” I asked him.

“Nothing new really, basically they told me everything you already did. But they used bigger words and didn’t yell at me as much.”

After about twenty minutes Michael’s test results came back, they were negative. Even though we could have guessed the answer we still breathed a sigh of relief. The receptionist informed Michael that he needed to come back in three month for another test and then one more in six months. She asked him what his major was in school.

“Nursing,” he said.

The look on her face was priceless. She told Michael if he was going to work in the industry he should know better. She then proceeded to call over the entire staff to tell him the same thing.

Michael went back in three months and six for his follow up tests which all came back clean. The next time Ramsey came to visit Michael took him as well for his test and made sure he did his follow ups when he got back home. About a year later Michael told me he took a few of his friends to get tested at the clinic as well. I guess he didn’t want anyone to go through what he went through. I was proud of him for doing that. Maybe I could be a parent after all.