Back in Virginia - Reflections on the Past

The husband and I got back to our home in Virginia a short while ago and on the 11 hour drive home - it took 12 hours going north - I reflected on the long weekend and going back to a place that had held a special place in my heart for so many, many years.  I am no longer the closeted gay teen who desperately needed to try to reinvent himself in order to cope with school bullying and a never ending sense of being different.  And what I discovered over this weekend, one cannot recreate the past.  It's gone forever and many of those who played important roles have either died or moved on in their lives.  Yes, Brantingham Lake is still amazingly beautiful.  But the true magic that it once held for me is gone.  So many that I loved - my parents, one of my sisters, my grandparents and numerous aunts and uncles - are gone forever.  Hence the bitter sweetness of the visit.

Will I ever go back?  Probably not.  My husband got to see places that were a part of my past and very important in my former life and learn also some family history.  But my real take away from the long weekend - and I will admit, attempt to recapture the past - is that the real focus needs to be on the present and more importantly, the future.  As much as I will always love the family camp, in many ways it has become more of a museum to the past than a home. 

The camp from the water

I am blessed with a wonderful husband, three amazing children and now grandchildren.  Of equal importance is the fact that I have at long last achieved self-acceptance and do not need others - or things or money - to validate me.  All of us need be mindful of the past and respect our remarkable ancestors.  But the focus needs to be on the future.  The trip to Brantingham surprisingly was an unexpected reminder to me that home is where my husband is and with my children and grandchildren.

During my arduous coming out journey in mid-life, one of my fears was about the future which at the time seemed to be a black emptiness.  I clung to the past which was comfortable and familiar even though it was over and never to return.  What was once a black emptiness is now full with the husband, countless friends and a never ending whirl of social activities.  Getting to this point took a great deal of work, including throwing myself into organizations in order to meet new people and rebuild my world.  My advice to those coming out?  Focus on the future and let go of the past.  Don't forget the good of the past and honor it, but acknowledge that it is over.  Your life now belongs to the present and the future.  It took me far too long to figure this out.

Return to Brantingham - Continued Part 2

Click image to enlarge

Today was another amazing day at the lake and I am so very happy that we made the arduous drive - although, I think next time we will try to fly and rent a car - which has allowed me to reconnect with much of my family history on my mother's side.  We took the "Class of 1941" (pictured above) out again today, lazed on the beach and on the dock in the sun and visited some with cousins who now co-own the camp next door.  My brother arrives shortly and the three of of us and four cousins will have dinner once my brother gets here - the husband, a/k/a Martha Stewart is doing the cooking. 

The views below are scenes of the ever change lake today.  It is truly heaven here.

Early morning

Mid morning view

Afternoon view

To give a sense of the length of time my family has been coming to Brantingham Lake, below is a photo from 1919 of my great grandparents, grandfather, and an uncle and aunts from my grandfather's generation.  Consensus is that the photo was taken at a no longer existing inn just up the road from our camp.

I plan on trying to take photos of other even older photos here at the camp.  One more photo: me feeding the ducks who decided to join us as we had drinks on the beach last evening.  

Return to Brantingham - Continued

The husband and I had a wonderful day today as we revisited my family's past and he got to meet some of my more distant cousins.  First we went in to Lowville - about 17 miles away from the lake house - where my maternal grandparents lived after moving from Central America. The husband  got to see my grandparent's former home pictured below (which my grandfather had bought for his parents around 1920), the family cemetery plot with my grand parents and great grand parents graves, and a farmer's market at the county fair grounds where we bought luscious looking preserves from a delightful Mennonite woman.  

Once we got back to the camp, we took out the "Class of 41" - my brother's 1941 Chris Craft (pictured above) which is the main photo on this blog - and we circled the lake a number of times stopping to wave and talk to friends from long ago.     We finished the afternoon with wine and munchies sitting in Adirondack chairs looking across the ever changing scenery of the lake.  Tonight I am taking him to dinner to a restaurant that has been here for at least 50 years.

The husband at the wheel

A windblown me in the rear seat

My brother joins us tomorrow and the fun and making of new memories will continue.  More posts tonight if we don't treat ourselves to too many cocktails. :)

Return to Brantingham Lake - 42 Years Later

Lake after sunset

This weekend is turning out to be a wonderful and also emotional weekend.  I am back at the family summer "camp" on Brantingham Lake in the Adirondack Mountains of northern New York State for the first time in 42 years.  It is my husband's first visit.  It's a long story as to why I haven't been back, but better late then never sums up the situation.  My maternal grandparents purchased the camp in 1938 but the family connection goes back far longer.  There are photos of my great grand parents here at the lake in 1896 and subsequent years.  Among the many photos are those of my late mother during her last visit to Brantingham in the summer of 2010.   So, so many memories.  Above is a photo of the lake just after sunset last night and below is a photo of the house and views of the lake early this morning.  

In my June 2015 VEER Magazine I wrote in part about growing up gay and here's the portion that looked at the role this place played in my life:

If the school year was a nightmare, summers were what likely saved me and helped me survive my teen years.  Through my mother's  family, we had a summer home on Brantingham Lake in the western Adirondack Mountains in northern New York State.  As my siblings and I got older, we spent large parts of the summer at the "camp" as such summer homes are called in local parlance.  And this allowed me an opportunity to reinvent myself, if you will.  While I truly sucked at school team sports, I excelled at slalom water skiing, sailing, canoeing and swimming.  I could compete and hold my own.  In addition, at camp, we had a whole different circle of friends, most of whom were from other parts of New York or surrounding states and were far more sophisticated than my school year friends.   Yes, I still struggled to "pray away the gay" and convince myself that I wasn't really attracted to some of my male friends.  And , yes, the mental gymnastics to deny the truth about my sexual orientation continued at Olympic proportions.  But these summers allowed me to finally feel somewhat good about myself.   As one friend from those years with whom I have reconnected through the magic of Facebook wrote in a post "the memories of the lake, the times in the boats at night, skiing in the mornings at 6am so as to be the only boat on the lake..... these are the memories that never leave me and are the ones I use to help me get to sleep at night."  They were the summer time experiences that helped me survive growing up gay.

There have been changes in the place over the years - most notably the loss of a number of huge pine trees felled in a severe "mircobust thunder storm some years back that wreaked havoc on the area - but other aspects have not changed at all.  

Camp in the fading sunset

Early morning view - mist over the lake

Early morning - mist over the water

Rainbow Colors in the Adirondacks

The rainbow flag and HRC flag flying neat to the boathouse at the lake house in the Adirondacks this past weekend.  The husband and I will be visiting the lake house in August.

Summer, Pride, and Growing Up Gay

Brantingham Lake from the air

Summer remains my favorite time of the year and, in part,  I attribute it to the summer of my closeted youth.  The following is a reprint of my June, 2015, column in VEER Magazine:

Summer is my favorite part of the year for reasons that will be described in part below.  It is also the time of year that the majority of LGBT "pride events" take place when LBGT individuals take pride in who they are and celebrate the advances that have been won over the years.  In fact, in America, June is "Pride Month" and President Obama has issued a proclamation in recognition of this reality.  The proclamation reads in part as follows:

"we are not truly equal until every person is afforded the same rights and opportunities -- that when one of us experiences discrimination, it affects all of us -- and that our journey is not complete until our lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) brothers and sisters are treated like anyone else under the law.

During Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month, we celebrate the proud legacy LGBT individuals have woven into the fabric of our Nation, we honor those who have fought to perfect our Union, and we continue our work to build a society where every child grows up knowing that their country supports them, is proud of them, and has a place for them exactly as they are.

"NOW, THEREFORE, I, BARACK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and the laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim June 2015 as Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month." 

Encouraging and welcome words.  Here locally, Hampton Roads Pride will sponsor PrideFest 2015 at Town Point Part on Saturday June, 27, 2015, commencing at 12:00 o'clock noon.  However, the local Pride celebration is growing with each passing year and more events are taking place in the lead up - Pride Week, if you will - to the main event on June 27th.  This year The Hampton History Museum will be presenting an event entitled "Our Story, Our Time  Growing Up . . . Gay in Hampton Roads."  The event is free to the public and starts at 5:30 on June 24, 2015, at the Crown Plaza Marina, 700 Settlers Landing Road in downtown Hampton.  Part of what the event focuses upon is the reality that LGBT individuals have always been part of our local history even if in times past they felt the need to remain invisible. The Hampton History Museum event will include a panel the members of which will describe what it was like to grow up "different" in Hampton Roads.  Panelists include Dick Fore, the owner of Foremost Florists, Barry Menser, owner of Barry's for Hair, Corey Mason, an actor, theater director and college student, Anthony Cudrup of the Hampton Finance Department, Bobbi Mitchell, and Art Institute student and Gavin Grimm, a transgender high school student.  For Peninsula readers, the event might prove eye opening.

I myself did not grow up in Hampton Roads.  Rather I grew up through high school in Central New York State near the city of Syracuse.  But like each of the panelist and with countless gays across America, the day came when I realized - in my case, much to my extreme horror, given my Catholic upbringing and the relative conservatism of Central New York at the time - that I was "different."   What I realized was that that my principal attractions were to other boys.  Not all other boys, but toward boys of a certain look and temperament.  One of the big myths of opponents of gay equality is that gays are either predators or seek to "recruit" others with very little discernment.  We are no different that straight people who each have their "type," preferred hair color, etc.  And I assure you, no one ever recruited me.

 At the time this unwanted realization hit me, I did not know what the term "gay" was but I did know that what I was feeling and experiencing had to remain a total secret.  And for the next thirty seven years, I did everything that I could to deny and suppress this reality and to "pray away the gay" through daily mass attendance, and a rigid effort to never, ever let anyone know "my secret."  Life for me became that of playing the role of an actor on a stage.  All these years later, it is hard to comprehend how I could convince myself that I was "straight" even as I knew in my heart what the real truth was.  I guess the only answer is that one will engage in all kinds of mental gymnastics rather than accept an unwanted reality.  Spurring me on in the effort were, of course, several factors: being gay was deem a clinical form of mental illness until my last year in college at the University of Virginia, (ii) my church's pronouncements that I was going straight to Hell, and (iii) family and societal expectations.

For many of us, our teen years are years of finding ourselves and lack of confidence.  Carrying the burden of "my secret," my teen years were likely worse than most.  Making matters worse for me was the fact that I did not excel at any of the popular sports at our small high school (750 students in grades 7 through 12), such as football, basket ball and baseball.  Gym class was always a nightmare for me.  Adding to my problem of fitting in, I was one of the "smart kids" and went on to eventually win a New York State Regents Scholarship.  Trying desperately to pass as straight and not be deemed a dork, I did a season of football, a season on the tennis team and then finally I joined the cross country team for two seasons where I actual received a varsity letter.  The closeted gay boy a varsity athlete!   Imagine that!  Despite this triumph of sorts, however, like many LGBT youth, I thought of suicide often since my efforts to "pray away the gay" were getting me nowhere.  Like so many others, these thoughts of suicide plagued me for years and latter while coming out, I acted on them twice in a serious manner, obviously without success.

If the school year was a nightmare, summers were what likely saved me and helped me survive my teen years.  Through my mother's  family, we had a summer home on Brantingham Lake in the western Adirondack Mountains in northern New York State.  As my siblings and I got older, we spent large parts of the summer at the "camp" as such summer homes are called in local parlance.  And this allowed me an opportunity to reinvent myself, if you will.  While I truly sucked at school team sports, I excelled at slalom water skiing, sailing, canoeing and swimming.  I could compete and hold my own.  In addition, at camp, we had a whole different circle of friends, most of whom were from other parts of New York or surrounding states and were far more sophisticated than my school year friends.   Yes, I still struggled to "pray away the gay" and convince myself that I wasn't really attracted to some of my male friends.  And , yes, the mental gymnastics to deny the truth about my sexual orientation continued at Olympic proportions.  But these summers allowed me to finally feel somewhat good about myself.   As one friend from those years with whom I have reconnected through the magic of Facebook wrote in a post "the memories of the lake, the times in the boats at night, skiing in the mornings at 6am so as to be the only boat on the lake..... these are the memories that never leave me and are the ones I use to help me get to sleep at night."  They were the summer time experiences that helped me survive growing up gay.

The good news is that things have changed remarkably since my teen years - in ways that I could never have dreamed of.  I hope readers will make an effort to attend both the Hampton History Museum event and PrideFest on June 27th.  I am also so very thankful that things are so much better for the younger generations that hopefully will never have to know the loneliness, isolation and self-hate that many of my generations faced.  There is still much work to be done, but growing up gay no longer needs to be such a rigorous ordeal.  And that is a very good thing. 

Brantinham Lake - A Life Saver for a Gay Youth

In some of the earliest posts on this blog I spoke of my summers at our family summer home on Brantingham Lake in the western Adirondack Mountains.  Thankfully, the "camp" as they are called in the Adirondacks remains in the family and this summer I plan to take the boyfriend - who will be my husband by that point - for his first visit.  For those who watch the video, our place is the white boathouse to the left of the long point (named Long Point) that extends well out into the lake from the top of the frame.  Not excelling in team sports and suffering from jeers of "fag" at times at school during the school year, summers - where I excelled in swimming, water skiing and sailing - and my wonderful summer friends were literally a life saver.  No matter how long I live, a part of my heart will always be at Brantingham.

Magic Summer Memories From Long Ago

Long time readers who followed my coming out story from the get go on this blog know what a crucial role summers at the family summer home on Brantingham Lake in the Adirondack Mountains of New York State  played in my life.  Excelling at water skiing, sailing and swimming I wasn't the nerdy kid who got called fag and other epithets from time during the school year where I often found myself among the last to be picked for teams in PE class.  Of equal importance was the fact that my summer friends were pretty amazing and outclassed my school year tormentors by light years.  Those summers literally saved me from suicide as a teenager.  Recently, one of the old summer gang who I have not seen or been in contact in decades posted a message on the Facebook page dedicated to the lake that summed up those summers well:

You all need to understand how lucky you are to live, have lived, or spent a summer on beautiful lake Brantingham. My next birthday will be my 59th, and my last summer on the lake was nearly 41 years ago. I feel compelled to write this note and to share with you the memories of the lake, the times in the boats at night, skiing in the mornings at 6am so as to be the only boat on the lake..... these are the memories that never leave me and are the ones I use to help me get to sleep at night. ........ What's strange is the Brantingham summer memories are of only 10 summers spent on Brantingham.....and the other 48 of my summers are spent elsewhere......none compare to those memories at the lake! 

He goes on to say that his best friends were those who comprised our group of friends who lived in cities scattered across New York State and in some cases New Jersey.  In response to his message I scanned a composite of some old pictures from circa 1968 -1970 that is set out above (yours truly is at  lower left in blue).  Many of the group still have homes on the lake that have been passed down through families as has ours other than for one interlude.  I haven't been back in many years and have vowed to change that this coming summer fate willing.  As for the group of friends, thanks to Facebook many of us are once again in contact with each other and are again reliving in our memories those special, and in my case life saving, summers.  I do count myself lucky for having been fortunate enough to have those summer experiences and now such wonderful memories.

The Strange Power of Dreams and Memories Past

View from our beach

Some of the earliest readers of this blog may recall that during my often less than happy youth as a closeted gay teenager one of the bright shining stars of my existence was summers spent at the family home in the Adirondack Mountains or "camp" as local parlance calls such homes.  It was a place where I could escape the sometimes "faggot" designation at school where I hated baseball, basket ball and football which were prerequisites to being "normal."  At the lake house, I excelled in water skiing, swimming, sailing, boating.  Best of all, I was able to recreate myself as something different.    I haven't been back in many years partly because it's a long 14 hour car trip from Hampton Roads, Virginia, and because other things always seem to come up.   It is definitely a place I want to visit again before I die.

All of that said, life at camp wasn't perfect.  After all, I was a gay boy trying to convince myself and everyone else that I wasn't a horrible homosexual - the term gay wasn't used in our parts until later.   As a result, there were the pains of unspoken and unrequited love and living one's life like an actor on a stage.  But in relative terms I felt safe because I could do all of the things the cool guys did.  Something so unlike at home during the school year.   Not that summers were all play and no work.  With a very short summer season, all of the year's maintenance needed to be done in the summer.  Hence, each week my dad left my sisters and I (we were chaperoned by my mother's elderly aunt and uncle) with a detailed list of assigned work: painting, foundation work on the boat house, and on and on.

The main house

What made me think of all of this was a dream I had last night that was so vivid that I could feel myself zig zagging across the boat wake on a slalom ski and carving back and forth throwing up a wall of spray as we always tried to do - one wanted to be visible all the way across the lake.  Likewise, I could smell the pine and hemlock scent in the air and even feel the water of the lake on my body.  It was so intense and so weird.  I'm not sure what prompted it other than my birthday was a little over a week ago and growing up, I always spent my birthday at the lake.

Two of my sisters - including my late sister - and a friend circa 1969

Much has changed in my life - some for the good and some not - but a part of my heart will always be at the summer camp.  Indeed, I want a portion of my ashes scattered there after I die. I do hope I get to visit again and that last night's dream wasn't my last visit.

One of my one time best friends who I've lost contact with

Memories of Summers Past

As early readers of this blog know, growing up my family had a summer home on Brantingham Lake in the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York.   While the home is again owned within the family (other than an interlude in the the mid 1970's and 1980's, it's been in the family since 1938), I have not been back in many, many years for numerous reasons, not the least of which is that I don't want magic memories lessened by a current reality.  It was a period when I as a closeted gay teen boy could feel almost normal and excel in sailing, canoeing and slalom water skiing.  The rest of the year outside of snow skiing was far less happy.  A group on Facebook posted the image above which is a postcard view from about the time period that I enjoyed those wonderful summers - and experienced unspoken crushes.  I truly don't think I'd have survived but for the lake house and my summer friends.

Picture of Another Adirondack Memory

Morning mist over the lake. Click image to enlarge.

Brantingham Lake Memories

Fall morning stillness - our white boathouse is seen at far right across the lake. The water has been lowered to avoid winter ice damage. Click to enlarge image.

Family Sadness - The Loss of a Favorite Aunt

This weekend - which was supposed to be light and cheery - has taken on a somber aspect. I just received a call from my sister to advise me that my mother's oldest sister (pictured at far right in the family passport photo above - my mother is sitting in my grandfather's lap) died last night. As a child growing up, she was a favorite of mine as we summered at the family lake house on Brantingham Lake in the Adirondack Mountains. Like my mother, my aunt, Mary Alice Phelps Isachsen, but always known as "Mickie" within the family, had a long and adventurous life having been born in Panama, lived in Honduras, traveled on United Fruit Company's "Greet White Fleet" ships, and then went on to have a long career in the medical field.

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I had not talked to her in a while and wish I'd had the chance to speak one last time. Among other things, I wanted to tell her about a cruise the boyfriend and I will be doing in the fall in the Mediterranean. She and her late husband cruised regularly (my cousins sometimes stayed with us so that my aunt and uncle could have an adult get away) and first stirred my interest in ships and the sea. One of the last treasured vacations my dad had before his illness confined him from traveling was with my aunt Mickie and her husband and my mom down at the quaint village of Ocracoke in the Outer Banks where they had a wonderful time.
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I will miss her greatly and my heart goes out to my cousins in this time of grief and loss.

Waiting For My Mother's Impending Death

As I mentioned in a post last week, my mother's health has been deteriorating rapidly after battling cancer for over 14 years. She moved to a hospice in Charlottesville earlier in the week and has taken a dramatic turn for the worse. Last night we children all received a call at 3:15 AM that things were looking grim. We don't know at this point whether she will make it through the day or not. Blogging will be spotty at best. I am putting up this post since I know that some long time readers will be on the verge of checking on me. I thank them in advance for the loyalty and concern. The photo above is from the beach at our summer home in the Adirondacks which fortunately my mother got to see one last time this past summer. It is one of her favorite places in the world.

Adirondack Beauty

A summer sunset over Brantingham Lake in New York's Adirondack Mountains were I spent many of my summers growing up. Although I have not been back in many years, the summer home remains in the family.

Adirondack Summer

As long time readers likely know, I spent many summers in my youth at our family summer home in the Adirondack Mountains in New York State. Those summers were magical times. I have not visited the lake house in years due to scheduling and other issues. Some family members were up recently and took these - and many other - photos. The view above is sailing on Brantingham Lake. The photo below is a place we used to fish and slide down the smooth water worn rapids.
Otter Creek, Lewis County, New York

In Memory of Nils O. Isachsen

This past week one of my uncles died. He was married to my mother's oldest sister and was very much a part of my childhood at the family summer home on Brantingham Lake (pictured above) where we had regular large gatherings of friends and relatives. He truly loved Brantingham. By a strange coincidence, he had known my father since both were boys at Graham School - my father as an orphan and my uncle as the child of a widow who was working at the orphanage. As I have written before, The Graham School, was part of a orphanage system founded in 1806 by Elizabeth (Mrs. Alexander) Hamilton and Isabella Graham. The orphanage was (and still is) located on a 40 acre site in Hastings-on-Hudson, New York, and employed a "cottage system" of smaller residences with a house mother. My uncle's mother was one such house mother.

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As children, my uncle Nils entertained us with outrageous stories and contraband fireworks that he always managed to have on hand for the Fourth of July each summer. He loved to sail and also gave me my first lessons on snorkeling and scuba diving. During World War II he was an Army medic and was wounded while heroically tending to wounded troops while under heavy enemy fire. He waived his heroism off as nothing, but for his conduct he received the Silver Star, the third highest decoration that can be awarded to a member of any branch of the United States Armed Forces. He met my aunt after the war at Syracuse University which he attended along with my mother, my father and my aunt.

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He had an interesting life and I will greatly miss him. Here is a small piece of his obituary:

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Nils O. Isachsen, 86, died Wednesday, May 6, 2009, at Albany Medical Center. Born in Arendal, Norway, he was the son of the late Nils Isachsen and Katrina Jensen Isachsen and husband of Mary Phelps Isachsen of Troy. Raised in Norway, he came to the United States in 1924.

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He was a graduate of Syracuse University and Cornell University Veterinary School. Mr. Isachsen was a first lieutenant during World War II, serving in the European-African Middle East, receiving a Purple Heart and Silver Star.

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He was former owner of the Troy Veterinary Hospital on Hoosick Road, retiring in the early ’80s. Nils specialized in the care of farm and small animals. He was a member of the Saugerties Power Boat Association. He enjoyed fishing and especially sailing with his wife and family.

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Like the rest of my family, he accepted me fully when I came out.