A look skyward this morning carried me back. In an instant, I jettisoned one freshly trimmed Scottsdale palm and a barely-detectable sliver of the moon for an unscheduled trip to my 1969 St. Louis summer crew cut and pubescent, eleven-year-old body.
When I landed in a black-and-white TV world, it was three weeks before two men walked on the moon. To gather my wits, I twirled the knobs of my transistor radio. Past the dollar bleacher seats of my Cardinals’ baseball childhood. I searched frantically up and down the dial for an empty channel in the frequency. For coverage of Dorothy’s fond farewell before she clicked her heels. For a flashpoint on Christopher Street that took us from Stonewall to somewhere over the rainbow. But it wasn’t meant to be. I left without finding them there.
Now, fifty years have passed. I’m nearly sixty two. I’m living in the Sonoran heat with a fresh summer haircut. I lead a full and open life with my husband. Together we share all the scars and joys of being gay. Every omission. Every discovery. Every hurt. Every realization. Every victory. Every monsoon. Every full moon. It’s as it should be. They are all a part of our journey.
Mark Johnson Stories 
I wonder what it was that led you back to your St. Louis adolescence. Was it the sliver of the moon that brought you back to the first moon walk?
What were you searching for, and could not find, as you twirled the knob on your radio in the 1969 of your memory? Was it some guide to a more genuine life? Were Dorothy, Stonewall, and the rainbow, the symbols you needed then?
It’s good, now, to finally live a free and open existence, and be who we are.
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Thank you for your questions and observations, Tom. I was so far out of touch with my orientation as an adolescent. That wasn’t unusual back in 1969. But yes, it would have helped me to have had identifiable gay symbols to recognize or at least a dialogue with someone about these significant moments.
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You are so blessed to now see them now as all part of your journey. A lot of people never make that leap of understanding.
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Thank you, Julie. We are all a composite of many experiences. I do my best to embrace all of it … as I know you do!!
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