The pilgrims missed the boat, so to speak. Sure, they made it on the Mayflower, just like the stories tell, but they never reached their destination—the mouth of the Hudson River.
Back then, the mouth was part of the Virginia territory. Yep, the pilgrims wanted to be Virginians, just like Shirley MacLaine. But foul weather pushed them northward and caused them to nearly shipwreck. So they gave up their plans for a Hudson homecoming and let providence take its course. (more…)
Tags:
Cape Cod,
gay community,
gays,
lesbians,
Massachusetts,
Mayflower,
New England,
Pilgrim Memorial Monument,
pilgrims,
Provincetown,
puritans 1 Comment |
Read the rest of this entry »
Several of us sit around the fire pit, at a campground in northern Ohio. A 28-foot RV towers nearby. It belongs to the two men from Canada, the ones who built the fire. They pop open a bottle of Cabernet and pour the wine into large Bordeaux glasses. They discuss the campgrounds they’ve traveled to, those they’ve yet to visit, most of them gay or gay-friendly.
“We like to be naked,” one says, “so we prefer the clothing-optional places.” (more…)
My aunt is the only living relation I still have in the Chicago area. My other relatives have either moved away or died. Or never lived here in the first place. True, I might have a second cousin around the vicinity, and he might, in fact, have children, but he was never really part of our family. His father, my first cousin, abandoned him and his mother years ago, and then my cousin remarried—three or four more times.
My aunt lives in a nursing home in a crowded suburb southwest of the city. Although it’s early September and the trees and bushes and grass are still green, the neighborhood looks as dreary and depressed and gray-brown as it did when I was a child. Perhaps even more so. In fact, a whole hell of a lot more so. (more…)
First I google it. Then I map it. Then I drive there and sit in the parking lot. I’m south of downtown Minneapolis, just past the airport. My last stop before I head into Wisconsin.
The building looms large before me, several stories high, its bulk measured not in feet, but in football fields or baseball stadiums or 747s. Two giant parking structures tower on either side, with cars flowing in at a steady rate. Vehicles not suited to the towers—the trucks and buses and vans and RVs—park on a vast expanse of asphalt that stretches along the front the buildings. (more…)