Anacortes: The Beauty Beyond the Corridor

Months ago, we made plans to visit some of our cycling friends, Malcolm and Michelle, in Anacortes, Washington. Another friend, Tom, was to fly in from Philadelphia, and the plan was for all of us to go riding together for a few days in advance of our cycling tour in Italy in September. A month ago, however, we realized that Mark's cycling days are behind him (due to cancer-induced pain), and we cancelled the cycling tour. Nevertheless, we still wanted to come up and and hang out with our friends for a week, and we're so glad we did.

Our friends' home in Anacortes, an oasis amidst cedar and fir trees.

On our first day, the others went riding while Mark and I drove around Fidalgo and Whidbey Islands. That evening, we had a wonderful dinner that included two more cycling friends who also live in Anacortes. Lots of good food and laughter, topped off by a game that was new to us, "Cards Against Humanity." I highly recommend it if you're good with a bit of crude humor.

Rick, Tom, Michelle and Malcolm

On Tuesday, Malcolm, Michelle, Tom and another Anacortes cyclist cycled up the slopes of Mount Baker to Artist Point. Mark and I drove up and met them at the top with lunch. We so wished we had been cycling, if only to take in the gorgeous sweeping views as one neared the Mt. Baker ski resorts. 

On the way up and again at the top, I thought of the dozens of times I have passed Mt. Baker on I-5, both when we lived in Vancouver from 1986-1996 and while visiting since then. I also thought of the countless times I used to see the mountain from Vancouver on a clear day. Yet, I had never been there, never explored outside of the I-5 corridor. 

As we drove up the slopes of the mountain, I was reminded of a post I wrote over three years ago when I first started cycling after tackling Millcreek Canyon in Salt Lake for the first time. Here are some (slightly edited) excerpts:

"Yesterday, we cycled all the way to the top of canyon, and I was blown away. I again marveled at the beauty that has been there all these years that I have lived in Salt Lake, but which I never saw or experienced. There were a number of reasons for this, but it basically boils down to the fact that I was going through life with blinders on, my nose to the grindstone, oblivious (and almost willfully so) to a landscape and a world that I refused to see or visit. It didn't escape me, as I rode up and down the canyon yesterday, that this could be a metaphor for my life in general - particularly with respect to my hidden sexuality:  it was always there, a land rich in emotion and beauty, but I refused to go there ... 

"For most of my life, I have been in survival mode - simply putting my head down and trying to get through whatever crisis or challenge I was facing at the time. I would go all out, trying to just get to the top of the metaphorical hill ... But by putting my head down and focusing on the "top of the hill," I missed out on the journey. I didn't care about the journey; all I cared about what the destination. I had to "get through" the next challenge so that I could then "get through" the next challenge, so that I could then "get through" the next challenge, etc., etc. In the process, I exhausted myself and missed out on all the beauty that was beyond the corridor of my life."

On Wednesday, I joined the others on a ride around Anacortes and Fidalgo Island. It was the first time I'd been on my bike in a month, and I enjoyed getting out.

On Thursday, Mark and I went whale watching along the southern edge of the San Juan Islands. It turned out to be a beautiful day and an unforgettable experience. 

Rocky Mountain High

We're in Colorado this week for a Koepke family reunion. Having fun. Eating lots. Visiting. We went to Estes Park yesterday for a trail ride and passed through this beautiful scenery along the way.

I am grateful to be part of the Koepke family. As dinner was being prepared last night, I sat in the midst of Mark and his siblings, their spouses and five nieces and nephews as well as Grandma Koepke. Laughter and conversation filled the room. 

It's something I would have wished for with respect to my siblings and their children, but know that it wasn't possible. So I'm grateful to experience it within Mark's family, and I look forward to experiencing it with our children and their families.

My Adolescence: Doors In the Walls of Memory

I have always been envious of people who seemingly can remember with ease detailed memories from their childhood. My sister-in-law is one such person. It never ceases to amaze me the things she can remember about her and Mark’s childhood, as if the past is always present, just at the end of her fingertips.

For me, my childhood has always been a distant land full of fortresses and locked doors. I know that this is largely due to the fact that I had an abusive childhood, and pain is best locked away rather than relived. I didn’t make this decision consciously, to lock away the pain and the memories that went with it. Rather, this decision was made long, long ago by my subconscious. It knew what was best for me. It knew that there were certain things that needed to be locked away and others that deserved to be locked away

Away. Away.

Later in my life, I joined the efforts of my subconscious mind when I joined the Mormon Church. There was so much of my past that seemed shameful, not the least of which was my closeted homosexuality. My solution to this was to look at my past through a Mormon lens, reinterpreting and filing away that which was unpleasant or unseemly. In consequence, I lost still more memory.

Still later in my life, I came to a point where I had to deal in some way with the abuse of my childhood. Memories seemed to explode out of me; not in my mind and memory, but in my body, e.g.. heart palpitations, flinging my arms up in front of my face to protect it from the belt. At first, I couldn’t understand what was happening. Then, I understood, thanks in large part to an incredible physician who was also a very wise counselor. 

I searched for memories of abuse and found that other memories, good ones, had been locked away with the bad ones. It was if I stood before a fortress of memory. No matter how many times I pounded on the door, it refused to budge. There was no answer from the other side.

I turned to my older siblings. I had never talked with them about what had happened, nor had they with me. We had never sat down together, all five of us, to speak truth (nor would we ever do so). We all hid it away – until I started making phone calls. Even then, it was difficult to speak of it; but they did. Some of my own memories returned. Most – stubbornly – lay locked away. Finally, I turned in sadness and walked away.

When I came out in the fall of 2010, I returned once more to the fortress and knocked. For the first time in my life, through the medium of my Invictus Pilgrim blog, I took off the “Mormon lens” and wrote honestly and openly of my sexuality and how it had all began – at least of what I could remember. I started with my childhood then progressed through my adolescence to early adulthood. 

But there was only so much I could remember. Unfortunately, the period in which I went through puberty was also the period in which my parents were going through a very messy and painful separation that would eventually lead to their divorce. Because of this, those two years seemed unreachable in my memory, no matter how hard I tried to remember - until the last couple of weeks. 

A couple of months ago, I began working in earnest on a memoir of the year I came out. I knew the first couple of chapters would be the most difficult to write since they would delve into my past. I finished a rough draft of the chapter dealing with the period from the time I joined the Mormon Church until I got married. 

Then, I turned to an even more difficult chapter – that recounting how I came to realize that I was attracted to boys instead of girls and how I “dealt” with this knowledge over the course of the next 12 years of my life. Once again, I went back to the land of memory and knocked on the fortress door. Still locked. Still no answer.

This time, however, I decided to walk around the perimeter of the fortress to see if there was another door. I found one, turned the knob and pushed. To my surprise, it opened. A few “fresh” memories came back. I started exploring and found that I had found an outer ring in the fortress’ defenses. Soon, I found another door. It was locked, but I walked on until I found another one. It opened, disclosing more memories.

And so it has gone over the course of the past couple of weeks. It’s difficult for me to express how much this progress means to me. It has not only brought increased understanding of the little gay boy I was (unbeknownst to me at the time); it has also brought joy at remembering and hope that more will yet be divulged. 

Though I know that the past will never be at my fingertips as it is with Mark’s sister, I have hope that the day will come when it will be much closer to hand and I won’t be afraid of it anymore.

The Landscape of Cancer: Where We're At

We're here in Silverthorne, Colorado, elevation 9000+ feet. We came to do some cycling, but between the rainy weather and other factors, we've only gotten in one ride on this trip. "Other factors" refers to Mark's cancer.

Back in January, I first wrote about Mark's pelvic pain in a location where a bony mass was detected when he was first diagnosed with prostate cancer. The pain manifested itself for the first time after returning from a trip to Maui. It eased off during the next couple of months, but it has become more intense and more persistent since then. 

Within the last month, Mark has realized that he can no longer use the elliptical at the gym. Now, it has become apparent that he will likely have to give up cycling. These are bitter pills to swallow for a man who has been very active his entire life. Nevertheless, he remains philosophical and positive, as do I. There is so much life to live, and we are more fortunate than others have been.

Meanwhile, we spend our time in other pursuits before Mark's family reunion starts on Friday. Mark's painting and sketching. My writing. Our reading. Last night, we had a wonderful dinner with a group of friends from Mark's ski patrol days at Copper Mountain back in the 80's. Tonight, we will drive to Denver and have dinner with a good friend there. Life is good.

Marriage Equality and the Gay "Outsider" Culture

I read an article in the New York Times on Friday about the demise of the so-called gay “Outsider” culture. It touched a nerve.

The basic thrust of the piece is that the increasing acceptance of gays and lesbians in our society, culminating in Friday’s Supreme Court ruling, has resulted in the decline of a gay culture that thrived in the wake of Stonewall. It was an “outsider” culture that was defined by oppression from general society and, later, by the devastation of AIDS. It was a counter-culture that celebrated being gay within a protective community that faced a hostile environment. 

It was also a culture that created barriers and stereotypes, both within the gay world and in society at large. Because of this, I welcome its demise. 

Both Mark and I grew to maturity in the 70’s. We both knew we were sexually attracted to men. But unlike others of our generation who found their way to San Francisco or New York or Los Angeles, we did not have the courage to come out. Furthermore, we each looked at gay culture – or what we perceived it to be – and thought, “I’m not like those people. If that is what it means to be gay, then I’m not gay.” 

And so we stayed in the closet, as did many others. “Gay culture,” as it then existed became a barrier instead of an invitation.

Decades later, I am glad that the situation is very different. Because of society’s increased acceptance of gays and lesbians, young people – as well as older closeted men and women – feel safer in coming out and are much less likely to feel that, in doing so, they have to fit into some kind of mold in order to “get into the club.” They can be both gay and themselves, just like heterosexuals can be straight and be themselves. 

There are no stereotypes of what a straight person is or should be. Thankfully, we are coming fully into an age where the same applies to gays and lesbians.

Mixed-Orientation Marriages: Going Insane Inside

A little over a month ago, I republished a blog post about mixed-orientation marriages that had been originally posted on my old blog in 2011. It was about a man named "James" who described what his mixed-orientation marriage was like.

Yesterday, "Jeff" left a comment on that post. In order to give this comment the exposure it deserves, I am posting it here in its entirety.

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I can't help but wonder why more people have not responded to this post. I would love to see the original replies. 

Thank you so much for reposting this. James' story is exactly mine. To a tee, with the exception that my wife has not caused me to be disfellowshipped. Might I share a few thoughts as I read this today?:

Today is June 26, 2015---a momentous day in LGBT history and equality. As I heard the announcement that gay marriage is now legal, I cried. Tears of joy fell from my eyes for quite some time as I realized the magnitude of the decision to allow same-sex couples to marry. After the elation of the moment passed, I sat back and looked at my current situation. I am a gay man, married to a woman, with three beautiful children. I live each day under the guise that I am just like everyone else. I've done everything that the church says that I'm supposed to do. Like I say, my story is just like James'. He did an excellent job of describing the emotions, intentions and reasons for his life decisions. Mine were exactly the same. 

So here I am on this beautiful day, so happy that gay marriage is now legal in our country. And it will literally have no impact on my life, as long as I continue the status quo. So I find myself faced with this question: Why do I continue life as a gay man who lives each day as though he is in hiding?....especially when the rest of the world seems to be progressing more and more towards acceptance of homosexuality and understanding of people like me? Why do I let my church, my family, my wife and even myself squash me down as though in a vise? 

The answer is, and always has been, my children. I can deal with the church rebuking me, my family chastising me, and my wife giving me hell if I were to leave her, but I don't know if I can leave my children. Sure, I would still be in their lives, but their world would be crushed. And their father would be the one who threw down the hammer. Compounding things, my parents divorced when I was little. I never grew up with a dad, really. He lived on the other side of the country, so I never saw him. It devastated me. How could I do the exact same thing to my children?

On the other hand, I am going insane inside. I am quickly dying. My ability to keep my mask up for the world to see is waning. I feel that my children would see a much healthier father if I completely came out, divorced my wife, and moved on with my life. 

So, today's decision by the Supreme Court is a cause for celebration. I wonder if it will be enough to convince myself that accepting gay marriage in my own heart, truly, means no longer being a hypocrite. No longer staying married to a woman. No longer telling myself that my children would hate me forever if I divorced their mother. No longer telling myself that my children would hate me if I chose to marry a man instead. 

In the end, my children's love is the only love I care most about.

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Please, anyone who reads this who has been or is currently in a mixed-orientation marriage, leave a comment for Jeff to lend him support and counsel.

I am the first to say that each mixed-orientation marriage is different and that I respect the decisions of each man in such marriages as to how they deal with their particular situation. That being said, Jeff, here are my thoughts.

I was once, in a sense, where you are now. However, my situation was a bit different. I never planned to come out, and my marriage was already on life-support when events propelled me out of the closet. I was willing to continue to try to work on our marriage, but my former wife was not. 

I had already reached a point, shortly before coming out, where I realized that we'd probably all be a lot happier if we divorced - me, her, our children. Like you, my parents were divorced when I was young. I never wanted to divorce. But it happened.

Though there have been some difficult times for everyone involved over the last five years, I don't regret the decisions I made. After 40 years, I was able to live my life authentically and happily. I met a man with whom I fell deeply in love, and I have experienced more happiness during these past four years that I ever would have thought possible. 

Several of my older children have expressed gratitude to my husband for facilitating the happiness they see in their father - something they rarely saw as they were growing up. These same children have also expressed gratitude for the example I set of choosing to live my life authentically. They have made the same decision and are experiencing their own happiness as a result.

As to my younger children, though I don't live with them, they know I love them. They see me happy. They experience the love of my husband. They see Mark and I together. They see the love between us. Just the other day, as Mark and I shared a hug and a kiss, my adolescent daughter said, "Awwww, true love."

I understand the desperation you feel, Jeff. I understand what it's like to feel dead inside. I understand the fear you feel when you contemplate what your children might experience in the event of a divorce. But I ask you to consider this: a parent's profound unhappiness affects his children in ways that can be deep and long-lasting. If you are dying inside, can you be the best father you can be?

Gems from Justice Kennedy's Majority Opinion

I just finished skimming Justice Kennedy's majority opinion in today's historic decision legalizing same-sex marriage throughout the country. The following passages from that opinion are gems that I gleaned from this first reading.

"The nature of injustice is that we may not always see it in our own times."

"The limitation of marriage to opposite-sex couples may long have seemed natural and just, but its inconsistency with the central meaning of the fundamental right to marry is now manifest. With that knowledge must come the recognition that laws excluding same-sex couples from the marriage right impose stigma and injury of the kind prohibited by our basic charter."

"The right to marry is fundamental as a matter of history and tradition, but rights come not from ancient sources alone. They rise, too, from a better informed understanding of how constitutional imperatives define a liberty that remains urgent in our own era."

"Many who deem same-sex marriage to be wrong reach that conclusion based on decent and honorable religious or philosophical premises, and neither they nor their beliefs are disparaged here. But when that sincere, personal opposition becomes enacted law and public policy, the necessary consequence is to put the imprimatur of the State itself on an exclusion that soon demeans or stigmatizes those whose own liberty is then denied."

"The dynamic of our constitutional system is that individuals need not await legislative action before asserting a fundamental right. The Nation’s courts are open to injured individuals who come to them to vindicate their own direct, personal stake in our basic charter. An individual can invoke a right to constitutional protection when he or she is harmed, even if the broader public disagrees and even if the legislature refuses to act."

"No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right."

Today, I am proud to be an American!