Purple Golf Cart: The Misadventures of a Lesbian Grandma (27 page)

 

Over these past ten years I’ve come to understand how much of what I experienced in childhood set me up for so many failed relationships. I didn’t trust or love myself so how could I possibly trust or love another? The underlying reasons were twofold: having colitis and being a lesbian.

 

With the diagnosis of colitis at such a young age, my body often failed me, to my extreme embarrassment. I was so angry with myself. I was fecally incontinent in high school and college, so I never knew if that gassy feeling was going to be a puff of air or diarrhea. It could be either, and it didn’t matter where I was. The worst place, of course, was at school, but sometimes it happened in the car (I always carried a towel in the car just in case) or at the beach. I just never knew. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone. Not my parents. Not my doctor. Not a friend. I became hyper-vigilant about my body and felt so alone in dealing with issues of my health. (The colitis has been in remission for twenty years, thank God, but because of the diagnosis at such a young age, I was at high risk for colon cancer, but I recently decided to banish that negative thought from my mind.) The colitis was the way my body betrayed me when I was young. My sexual orientation was the way my heart betrayed me.

 

Being a young closeted lesbian in the 1950s and 1960s was terrifying, so much so that I told no one, ever, like my secret about colitis. The Big Secrets of our lives. They cause such deep isolation for fear of discovery. I truly believed back then that if anyone, especially my family, knew about my sexual orientation, they’d lock me up and throw away the key. Those words were my deeply held belief. They’d lock me up and throw away the key. I made assumptions about how my family and friends would treat me based on my own internalized self-hate.

 

When I finally came out in 1979 and told my husband that I was a lesbian, I lost custody of my children. My greatest life-long fear was instantly validated: tell my truth and the people I love leave me. I told the truth and lost my children. And that was how I entered into every relationship I had with anyone. If I tell you my truth, you’ll leave me, so why bother? I promised no one a rose garden, and I let no one into my heart. There was no such thing as real intimacy for me. Intimacy meant sex. If I was sexual with someone, I didn’t have to talk. Perfect. When the sex waned, I created chaos of some sort or other, either by silence or drama, and left. It happened that way every time, with every person. Very predictable.

 

I’ve been single since March of 2001 when Rebecca and I broke up. I’ve dated a few women over these years but I’ve chosen to remain single, to build and nurture my friendship network, and to work on being my own beloved. I’m in a healthy place today. It took a great deal of work to get here, and it takes a lot of maintenance to stay in this place but it’s worth it. Today I have wonderful friendships with women all over the country, and I’m lovingly connected with my family of origin, my children, and my grandchildren. I live life one day at a time and truly understand that my Higher Power, my God, is always with me. I’m never alone, and I’m unconditionally loved. As the saying goes, life is good. Truly.

 

 

 

 

34. Extreme Makeover, 2003

__________________________________________________________________

 

2003

U.S. President
: George W. Bush

Best film
: Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Finding Nemo, Mystic River, Lost in Translation, Seabisquit, Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, Monster

Best actors
: Sean Penn, Charlize Theron

Best TV shows
: American Chopper; Queer Eye for the Straight Guy; Las Vegas; Two and Half Men; Cold Case

Best songs
: Crazy in Love, Beautiful, Where is the Love?, Rock Your Body, When I’m Gone

Civics
: Saddam Hussein captured by U.S. troops; Space shuttle Columbia explodes killing all seven astronauts

Popular Culture
: Clay Aiken wins American Idol; Hubble telescope detects oldest known planet; The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J. K. Rowling published; U.S. Supreme Court overturns sodomy laws, Lawrence v Texas

Deaths
: Johnny Cash, June Carter Cash, Althea Gibson, Katharine Hepburn, Bob Hope, Gregory Peck, John Ritter, Mr. Rogers, Morris Kight, Sarah Pettit

__________________________________________________________________

 

I sent a letter and a video to the television program Extreme Makeover. I wanted them to “do” me before I went back to Florida for my daughter’s graduation from college, a feat that took her eight years to accomplish. I was so incredibly proud of her for keeping her commitment to her studies even though she had had two babies in the process, absolutely no money, and limited transportation. Not only did she graduate from the University of South Florida with honors, she received a full scholarship to continue with her graduate work there in history and religious studies. Remarkable! So as I prepared to return to Florida to celebrate with her, I decided I needed an extreme makeover. The following is the application letter I sent to the producers of the show.

 

~~~~~~

 

I am going to Florida to celebrate my daughter’s graduation and to host her celebration party. All of her family, including those crazy fundamentalists, meaning her father, his new family, and his parents, are cordially invited. I’m a lesbian, the frumpy kind, short hair and blotchy skin, and if my neck hangs any lower I’ll trip over the damned thing!! None of this is good because I’m single, post-menopausal, and would like to attract a partner. The history is that when I came out as a lesbian in 1979, I lost custody of my children, then ages three and six. We became estranged when they were nine and twelve. I missed all of their events and rites of passage including their graduations from high school and my daughter’s wedding. We recently reunited and she’s graduating from college at the age of thirty. I want to look kick-ass good, both for her and, well, to look better than her father’s new wife, though I don’t really know why because I don’t care about her. Nonetheless, I offer you both a physical and social challenge if I am a recipient of an Extreme Makeover.

 

I’m up for whatever you want to do to me: face lift, neck lift, body sculpting liposuction, laser eye work, tattoo, personal trainer. I want to have a tight muscular old bod—maybe I can’t have six-pack abs any more but I bet I can muster up a four-pack! I want my granddaughters to look at their lesbian grandma and know that we as women can do anything we set our minds to, including re-work our bodies if we’re not happy with them. It’s our feminist prerogative!

 

Actually, I can’t remember a time in my life when I was happy with my body. I always felt like a hot-female-jock-body-builder riding around in a fat, acne-scarred, bespectacled vehicle. For the past 10 years I have been the most self-conscious about my chicken neck, though the cystial acne and resulting scars were a big bummer. There have been times in my life when I simply did not want to be seen in public. My self-esteem was shot. It’s better today, at least enough to allow me to complete this application. With an Extreme Makeover, my life will change in the most primary of ways: my self-esteem will be elevated, I hope. I would like to look in the mirror and see the reflection of the beautiful woman that I know I am instead of the one I see.

 

I had to write about family.

 

My parents are terrific. Mom wears the pants in the family. Dad either doesn’t know or just doesn’t mind. Dad’s very proud that he was the third American soldier into the Dachau concentration camp to liberate people during WWII. My parents are lovely people who cherish their children deeply. I have a great relationship with my siblings. My sisters are my best friends. My biggest— only—issue is that they’re both so slim and beautiful. My brother is too. I remember relatives would visit us in Miami Beach from up north and say how beautiful my sisters were, how handsome my brother was, and what a great personality I had. I HATED having a friggin’ great personality. I wanted to be beautiful like my sibs! My two sisters are tiny. I was 131 pounds in the 7th grade! By the way, they also have great personalities!

 

I am single. Since my husband and I divorced in 1979 and I came out as a lesbian, I’ve had many relationships. None took. It always felt like the same relationship, different face. I have lots of acquaintances and many close friends who are my family of choice.

 

I then had to address the issue of addictions. Did I have any?

 

I am not addicted to anything except relationships. I’m codependent but I go to support group meetings, and I’m learning to love myself. Because my self-esteem has been so low, I tried to get warm fuzzies from others rather than accepting and loving myself exactly as I am. It’s the neck thing!!! But I’m trying... Anyway, I drink only occasionally, don’t smoke anything, and don’t do drugs of any sort.

 

Finally, a summary:

 

My story is a good one, don’tcha think? Nice, smart, funny, intelligent woman with a great national reputation in higher education with a focus on sexual orientation and gender identity work, lost custody of children when they were very young due to her being a lesbian, estranged from children for years. Reunited when daughter was pregnant. Got to cut the cord when first granddaughter was born. Present when the second was born. Reunited with son when he needed to find me as he was searching for himself. Now very close with my children and want to look like a million bucks for my daughter’s graduation. It’s a heck of story. And it’s true!!!

 

That was my letter with my application to Extreme Makeover. I wasn’t selected. A year later, I did the Los Angeles thing and “had work” on the chicken neck. (I wanted only to look age-appropriate, not like one of those Beverly Hills-type women with severe face lifts who look like they stood in a serious wind tunnel.) I’m 64 now and am finally comfortable in my own skin, which is a good thing because here’s what happened recently: My two sisters and I had our photo taken together which I put on my Face Book page on the Web. I received an email from a friend who wrote, Your sisters are so beautiful. You look so happy. They are, and I was. I can smile at that comment now instead of resenting not being one of the beautiful sisters.

 

By the way, my ex-husband did not show up for his daughter’s graduation. The reason? Because I was there! Too bad, because even without the extreme makeover, I looked damned good that day!

 

 

 

 

35. Moving Day—Again

 

Once Jake and I divorced in 1979 and I moved from the home I’d known for seven and a half years, my transient lifestyle began, though I certainly did not plan for that to happen. My first apartment was in a family complex only a couple of miles from Jake and the kids. It was affordable and safe, and I intended to stay there for a long time, but when I got fired from Burdines Department Store, I could no longer pay for a two-bedroom place. I moved into a studio apartment in Orlando.

 

As money became even tighter, I moved from the studio to a shack in an African American community near Winter Park. I was unemployed and on food stamps. Soon, though, a friend hired me to direct a women’s clinic in Deland, Florida where I moved into an apartment in a lovely old Victorian house near Stetson University. I had been on my own for less than two years. I hated moving but I had no choice if I intended to keep a roof over my head.

 

I was hired by the Florida Task Force and lived with a woman who was an assistant school superintendent in that Baja-Georgia part of Florida. She was a very generous host (and became my lover) as I pursued a career as a legislative lobbyist for lesbian and gay issues. After I quit the Task Force, she quit the school board and we moved into a house with three other women near Orlando and in close proximity to my children. I lived there only a few months because we broke up. I moved in with my next girlfriend, the sex worker.

 

I didn’t know her line of work at first. We lived in her mobile home about 40 miles west of Daytona. The property was lovely: five acres of old Florida scrub, secluded enough for wild lesbian parties which we never had because we were too isolated to have any friends. I was unemployed while she worked nooners with her A-list clientele: doctors, elected officials, business owners, scientists, and anyone from whom she needed a service, like the guy who delivered the 300 linear feet of cedar chips for her driveway. That’s when I discovered her occupation.

 

“Sorry, she didn’t leave a check for you,” I said when he delivered the chips while she was in town on “business.”

 

“That’s okay. I don’t need a check. She’ll just pay in her usual way," he said with a wink. Usual way? Huh? I suddenly got it. I couldn’t stay with her.

 

Unemployed, I lived on the streets of Orlando and then Key West for a short time until some friends found me. They took me back to Orlando where I lived with a sales-person minister-to-be with a killer smile. She refused to discontinue her long-time affair with a “straight” married woman while we were together but I didn’t really care. She hated it when my children came to visit, about that I did care. She and I split up and I moved aboard my boat.

 

My boat, the
Curious Wine
, was home to a cat, a dog, and two lesbians. We lived in Jacksonville, Key West, and Miami Beach. I had to sell the boat after I was fired from my job in Miami. We moved back to Jacksonville and I rented a house in the dilapidated Springfield area of Jacksonville. We were robbed twice so we moved to an apartment in a safer neighborhood, close to the St. Johns River to be near the water.              

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