I have always liked hats – maybe the brim avoiding glare on the glasses or maybe that innate gay style that has always eluded me. I own a few – baseball caps, Stetsons, silly warm winter ones. But I also grew up in the shadow of Camelot. Younger readers may not know about January 20, 1961: JFK not only asked us what we can do for our country, but he asked it without a hat, the famous hair for all to see. Haberdashery still has not fully recovered. But as usual I digress.
Now that I am gay, I indulge myself, usually a nice felt Stetson. For Christmas Carrie buys me a new hat – a pork pie model, very comfy but not really me. I wear it to work and the comment is the new one is okay but the Stetson is a statement. And they don’t even know about the gay, but they are right: it is a statement indeed.
A few days after Christmas I take the kids for a weekend and one of my eleven year olds adopts the hat – it fits her well and on her it is statement also. She and the hat becomes an item very quickly. I bring her back to her mother’s and the question is asked: why is she wearing my hat, my new hat that was not cheap. It is quickly transferred back to me and I leave proudly wearing it. I have learned after two plus years a little bit about picking battles.
A month later, another day with the kids and again: an eleven year old in full hat glory. As we head back to the house the kids suggest we call ahead, invite Carrie to join us for dinner, and to my surprise and gratitude she accepts. We will pick her up and continue on to Outback – steak for my young carnivores. As we turn down the block, final Carrie approach, I notice next to me: the porkpie hat.
I had considered telling this story – it is cute enough and I am a proud Dad, but it is also a little fluff. Then I received a comment on my blog today from Jen, a daughter of a married gay man. I was in heaven – a demographic if you would that fascinates me. Then as I looked at her blog I started to do some math. She was thirteen when her father came out. And here it is almost thirty years later that she is sharing her thoughts, things still clearly on her mind. It was sobering to one who thinks that this is my coming out, my story. It is the stories of others also, my children’s story. And as she removed a hat at the last moment, my daughter showed how much more she understood than she is able to say, at least at the tender age she currently finds herself.
I fear this is a fertile road, one with much for me to learn and hopefully to share.
4 comments:
Nate, thank you for including my blog in your piece, it was lovely. I love that word. A couple of things..I am able to write about this now, thirty years later, because my father died and I no longer feel his shame. I am not ashamed that he was gay even if he was. I wish he hadn't been ashamed but he was 70 when he died and things were different when he was young. I am also trying to make sense of what he was going through being closeted and being out in the last few years (out on his terms). Also what is with the hats? My dad had a bunch of stetsons, along with leather, movies etc, he never wore the hats and he never struck me as a cowboy but he had tons of them...just asking. Take care, Jen
Thanks for sharing what you do learn along the way :)
Dude, It's been a while since you posted. You've been tagged with a meme. here's the link http://kidsofqueers.blogspot.com/2008/02/ive-been-tagged-with-meme-my-first.html
I love your new blog. I am sorry for being such a poor blog buddy - I should read you a lot more than I do. I always draw strength from you.
In return here is a tag...I have memed you.
The rules for the meme are:
1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Share six non important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
5. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.
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