Japanese Lesson

“How come your penis is so big?”

This was asked by my school friend, Tetsuya, in Japan, when we were bathing together at his house. We were both nine years old.

I had become pretty fluent in Japanese by the fourth grade, but I still didn’t know enough to explain circumcision in America. I gave it my best shot.

“Well, they cut it when you’re first born, so it’s just more ‘out there,’ you know, than yours. They do it in America, anyway, to newborn baby boys.”

Tetsuya was horrified. “They do not! You’re lying!” He even went to ask his mom (tattle on me, was more like it). She confirmed what I had said, with kind of an embarrassed smile on her face.

He was still horrified.

Now that I’m older, I realize male circumcision would sound just as horrifying to the Japanese as female circumcision sounds to us as Americans.

If you ever have the occasion to use the term ‘big penis’ in Japanese, say okii chin-chin (oh-kee cheen cheen) and see how impressed your listening audience will be!

Abracadabra - Disappear!

I didn't want to be mean to them. But, like with my first prostitute, neither did I want to encourage them. It was obvious that the trio of ladies were Jehovah's Witnesses, dressed in nice church clothing and carrying pamphlets. I was in a hurry to make it to a dentist appointment three blocks away, and the ladies walked into our cul-de-sac just as I was leaving out the front door.

"Excuse me, sir, I know you're in a hurry" the first nicely dressed lady said to me.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I have a ten o'clock appointment to get to."

She extended one of her pamphlets to me. "If you could just take this with you . . . "

I stopped. "Would you be willing to read literature in support of homosexuality and gay marriage?" I asked her.

Domestic Partner and I don't actually have literature of any sort, for any cause. Not that she knew that.

"No" she said, looking rather sad.

"Well, I guess I won't be reading yours either, then."

I told some of my coworkers about this exchange at work, later.

"Scare 'em off with magic!" Andrea said.

What?

"Yeah," she explained, "apparently, they think magic acts are of the devil, and if you tell them you're a magician, even the kind that entertains kids at birthday parties, they'll leave you alone."

Wow. Really? Hmmm. Maybe instead of some pro-gay literature, I can keep props for a simple magic trick or two at the ready near our front door.

Hey, Rocky! Watch me pull a rabbit outta my ass!

Dangerously Sexy Diva

She was 21 when I first met her. Terra was one of the performers I met in rehearsals, in Los Angeles, for a theme park job in Japan. She was from Montreal, Canada, so when she rode in the passenger seat of my Geo Metro, I made sure to slow down from my usual L.A. pace while driving on the freeways.

She was still terrified from the way I drove.

Terra was tall, with the enviable lithe figure achieved from years of dance training, combined with youth. She had beautifully fair skin and long, dark brown locks. She had a kind of retro beauty that made her seem more mature than her actual age, an intelligent and sophisticated beauty that was reminiscent of a young Anne Bancroft.

Terra could look sexy in a way that was almost dangerous, if you didn't know her. We typed her right away.

"Oh!" the other dancers exclaimed. "You're perfect for the musical 'Chicago,' as one of the merry murderesses in the ensemble."

She was. Terra was physically fit and a triple-threat (dancer, singer, and actress) who was talented as hell. And she had that dangerous sexiness that made her ideal casting for the famous Fosse musical.

We underestimated her.

After our gig in Japan, Terra was cast in a Paris, France production of 'Chicago' as the lead, Velma Kelly. Being from Montreal, Terra was a triple-threat who was also fluent in French - she was a quadruple-threat, and she was tailor-made for this specific role in this specific production.

Terra's portrayal of Velma impressed the casting directors so much, she ended up performing the role in English, on Broadway. Her time on the Great White Way extended into a national tour of 'Chicago,' which eventually brought her back to Los Angeles. I had the privilege of seeing my friend perform the role of Velma at the Pantages Theatre.

Terra is not a celebrity. She is not a name that audiences know from film or television. But in the opening number for the show, "All That Jazz," when she arose center stage on her mini elevator-platform, frozen in a classic Fosse pose, the audience applauded madly as if she were celebrity royalty. It was a thrilling moment for me, and it was thrilling to watch her perform such a physically demanding role - a role that has had more than three decades built up in audience expectations.

Terra's performance did not disappoint. I couldn't wait to tell her about the murmurs of approval I overheard in the audience.

How lucky am I to live in the greater Los Angeles area? When it comes to theater, we may not have much in bragging rights compared to New York, but we get a fair share.
This past fall, Terra was back in L.A. performing the title role of 'Kiss of the Spider Woman.' As Aurora, Terra was yet again able to showcase her triple-threat abilities and that dangerous sexiness that is uniquely her own.

And she is back in L.A. this month, too. I get to see her play Velma again, when a touring production of 'Chicago' makes a whirlwind weekend stop at the Cerritos Center for the Performing Arts.

And I feel so lucky! Why? All I ever wanted out of life was to be able to perform as a one of the chorus boys surrounding a fierce diva. It's as simple as that. I may no longer be dancing, and my performing career never even approached close to the level and prestige that Terra's did. But I still have groupie tendencies for a goddess of entertainment - it is the natural plight of most gay men to want to worship and admire a diva or two.

I admire Terra's long and amazing career. It's been fourteen years since I first met her. By now, I feel we are lifelong friends, and I am definitely her lifelong fan.

Retrospective, or So Far

1. When I was 1, my crib was in the house's one bedroom, and my parents slept on futon mattresses in the tiny living room.
2. When I was 2, my baby brother was born and he shared the bedroom with me.
3. When I was 3, our family moved to Japan, and I first learned to speak Japanese from watching cartoons.
4. I attended nursery school when I was 4, back in the states, where our daily snack was two Wheat Thins and a Dixie Cup of tomato juice.
5. When I was 5, a girl in kindergarten gave me a ring to wear. I loved it. I lost it almost immediately and I have regretted it ever since.
6. I still wore a Mickey Mouse watch when I was 6. I was jealous of my brother's Teeter-Totter watch, which had a real see-saw under the plastic face to mark the seconds.
7. Our family moved to Saudi Arabia when I was 7, where I attended an American elementary school.
8. When I was 8, I read "Charlotte's Web" for the first time and identified with Fern because she was also 8.
9. By the time I was 9, we had moved to Japan, where they had really good art and science classes at the Japanese elementary school.
10. When I was 10, I was happy that we had moved back to California, where the (public) schools were easier.
11. I wanted desperately to be a Mouseketeer on the All New Mickey Mouse Club, when I was 11.
12. I had entered puberty barely after turning 12, and before entering the seventh grade.
13. I was the King of Disco at age 13, at the after-school dances, which were even better than ABC's Afterschool Specials.
14. When I was 14, I had my first proper girlfriend, Erin. We "went around" for a full sixteen weeks!
15. The Gogo's were the Best Band Ever when I was 15.
16. When I was 16, I started wearing bandanna headbands, a la Olivia Newton-John during her Let's Get Physical era, in order to better express my rugged individuality.
17. I had segued to wearing berets by age 17, and I loved dancing in teen clubs.
18. When I was 18, I played Roger in "Grease" and Stephen/Jesus in "Godspell."
19. When I was 19, I dropped out of UCLA and came out of the closet when I started working at Disneyland. I hated being 19.
20. I had moved out of my parents' house by the time I turned 20. I could no longer stand the tension that my dropping out of school had caused.
21. When I was 21, my first car was a Vespa scooter.
22. When I was 22, I had my heart severely broken for the first time. I came out to my parents and started Christian therapy.
23. At 23, I landed my first performing job as a dancer-singer, at Tibbie's Music Hall.
24. I danced for Disney during the day and performed in a dinner theater revue at night, when I was 24, and saved up enough to go to Hawaii for the first time.
25. When I was 25, I lived with four other roommates from Disney in a five-bedroom house, and we each paid $200.00 a month for our own room.
26. I went away on my first cruise ship job when I was 26.
27. When I was 27, I went from dancing on cruise ships to staying home and dancing in the Snoopy show at Knott's Berry Farm.
28. When I was 28, I thought my dance career was over and I enrolled in the local junior college. Shortly after the semester started, I booked six great dance gigs, one right after the other.
29. I went to work in Japan for the first time, at age 29, and had my heart severely broken for the second time.
30. Back home in Los Angeles, at age 30, I met Domestic Partner.
31. I was a cheerleader for Disney Sports - Mighty Ducks hockey and Angels baseball - when I was 31.
32. I was 32 when I worked on my last cruise ship job.
33. I was 33 when I went to work in Japan for the second time, heart all mended.
34. When I was 34 I bleached my hair platinum blond and pierced my ears. I called the look "Mid-life Crisis #1."
35. When I was 35, I went back to work at Knott's Berry Farm, my aunt died of liver cancer, I buzzed my hair off, and my sister got married.
36. When I was 36, I swallowed my pride and went back to waiting tables. I didn't perform at all, that year.
37. I was still waiting tables and still taking class at city college, when I was 37. I also booked two good shows that year.
38. When I was 38, I finally transferred my procrastinatin' butt to a university.
39. When I was 39, I was devastated by the loss of my little baby boy when we had to put our beloved and elderly pug down.
40. When I was 40, I got "my first real job" with the Los Angeles Recording School, working in the admissions department.
41. When I was 41, I started blogging, and I started making some excellent blogger friends.
42. At age 42 I revel in the joy of riding a new scooter and driving a new car.

43. When I am 43 . . . ??

We'll see!

What Am I Reading?

Do I really want to admit to you that I get a good amount of reading accomplished in the bathroom? I don't mind admitting that, actually. I guess the real question should be, do you really want to know that about me?

I just finished reading a children's novel on the loo, over the last few weeks, one titled The Trouble Begins. It was about a Vietnamese boy who immigrated to America with his grandmother, and the troubles he had while trying to assimilate in his new school. I was surprised to find out that the author was a white woman who had been an elementary school teacher in San Diego before she died. Do you think she exploited her students' real life experiences?

Or is that what most writing is all about?

With another book out of the way, I can now try turn my attention to the other books that I have been neglecting. Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert, has replaced the children's novel in the guest bathroom drawer. BFF Kathy loaned it to me, highly recommending it. I was eager to read it after having read an article about the book and its author in Oprah's 'O' magazine a few years ago. The accompanying photo of the handsome Italian man posing with the author didn't hurt, either.

Kathy also loaned me Cormac McCarthy's The Road recently. I have no idea what it's about, but Kathy always recommends good books. I try to do the same for her, now and then.

I am more than half way through Gregory Maguire's A Lion Among Men. So far, I love it, just as much as I have loved and enjoyed his other novels. But I try to read a little bit each night before I go to sleep, which means I don't read very much at one time since I get too sleepy too quickly.

There is never enough time to read, it seems. Or enough time to write. And yet we must! We simply must!

Once I finish the above mentioned novels, I will finally indulge my inner teenage girl and start on the Twilight series that I received for Christmas.

This post was inspired by a recent one featured in the Radiant Cheryl Klein's Bread and Bread blog.

Thanks, Cheryl!

Don't Touch Me, I'm Dirty

One of the more memorable performing experiences I've had was being in the ensemble for Jesus Christ Superstar. I was cast as one of the singing-dancing apostles in a civic light opera production of the musical, and I had a blast.

During the intermission, there was no break for the thirteen actors playing Jesus and the apostles. Instead, the director wanted us to do a quiet improv' at the foot of the stage, of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples.

Gary M. played Jesus. Unexpectedly, during dress rehearsal for this improvisation, I began crying when Gary started washing my feet.

"What are you doing?" I asked him. "I should be washing your feet, not the other way around. I am not deserving."

At the time of doing this particular show, I had been involved with ex-gay ministry for almost three years. I saw the support group as a good thing for me. I didn't see the twelve-step program as a bad thing in any way, the way it can be vilified in pro-gay press.

But I freely admit that the ex-gay program only reinforced the shame I felt for being homosexual, shame that I had harbored since the age of twelve.

Don't touch me, I thought, when this real-life representation of Jesus tried to express such humble servitude to me. Don't touch me - I'm too dirty, too sinful. I fall more than short and I am beyond help.

Gary, bless his heart, stayed in character, and quietly explained that that was the reason he had come among us. Still feeling resistant, I continued to cry as I allowed Jesus to wash my feet.

The director told us how pleased he was at the outcome of our improv' rehearsal. Gary gave me a huge bear hug. I was feeling the kind of post-storm relief that I usually felt after throwing up.

I have carried that memory and specific moment with me for almost two decades, now. I will never forget it. Whatever conservative nay-sayers may think or say about the incongruity of homosexuality and Christianity, they can never take that moment away from my memory. They cannot undo the quiet, personal faith that was already in place from years before.

Whatever your beliefs, whatever your reasons for celebrating this season, I wish you a peaceful and joyous holiday.

Twenty Years Ago

Twenty years ago, I was 22-years-old.

Twenty years ago, I got my heart broken by a guy for the first time.

Twenty years ago, in 1988, I paid $125.00 a month in rent for my own small bedroom in a four-bedroom house.

Twenty years ago, I switched scooters, from an old Vespa P200 to a brand new Honda Helix 250.

Twenty years ago, I thought it might be realistic to still date girls.

Twenty years ago, I was still working at Disneyland, in the Character department, until they fired me.

Twenty years ago, I started working in a dance clothing and supplies store, after being fired from Disneyland.

Twenty years ago, I was taking as many dance classes as I could afford to, dreaming of the day when I would be a real, working dancer.

Twenty years ago, fifty dollars allowed me to sign up for as many units as I wanted to take at the local junior college.

Twenty years ago, I used to withdraw five dollar bills from our credit union's ATM.

Twenty years ago, I could still wear Levi's 501 jeans in W30 L30.

Twenty years ago, I was not brushing and flossing regularly.

Twenty years ago, I was still using an electric Brother typewriter.

Twenty years ago, I still felt inferior for having dropped out of college.

Twenty years ago, I still believed that Christianity could help me stop being gay. At least, I wanted to believe that.

Twenty years ago, I used to wonder how my life would turn out when I became an older adult in my thirties and forties.

Here's to the end of the current year, and the beginning of the next.

Here's to the next twenty years.