Date: Wed, 21 Mar 2001 00:10:28 -0500
From: Sequoyah <sequoyahs-place@home.com>
Subject: ASP-47

		     A Special Place--Part Forty-seven

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                                                                               Comments

The next posting, which might be a bit delayed, will be from Oz, home of
SAH and GT, sons extraordinary.

The summer is heating up and rest assured, there are wild chapters to come.

A note is always appreciated: sequoyahs-place@home.com.


Sequoyah
A Special Place--Part Forty-seven--Eugene

I was somewhat startled when an unfamiliar voice called "Little Brother, we
better get moving or our Mama will have our asses". It took me a while to
realize what was going on. It was Jason standing over me in a robe,
smiling, who spoke.

"Oh, how right you are. Damn! I was supposed to be up and go with Larry and
Jacob--a friend--to Lexington this morning. Shit!"

"Maybe that note on his pillow will help," Jason said as he sat on the edge
of the bed.

I picked up the note and read, "My wonderful Sleeping Beauty, I know you
and Jason were up most of the night, so I got up and Jacob and I are going
to Lexington. I'm taking your car since you have Millie's. Gene, I am so
pleased that you and Jason talked the night away. I'm sure you both feel
better about each other and can become good friends--no, close brothers. I
love you now and always, Lar."

I handed the note to Jason and when he read it, he said, "I have so much I
want to learn about you and your friends. If I hadn't been such as ass, I
could have been a part of so much that I have missed."

"Jason, Larry and I have been in therapy since your mom..."

"Mom, our mom..."

"Our mom... took me in. It has helped a lot and we both have learned so
much, but I think the most important thing we have learned is to let go of
the past, especially the guilt and anger. It's been hard for Larry--letting
go of guilt, I mean--and letting go of rage and anger is hard, still hard,
for me. But the past is the past--can't be changed, but sure can fuck up
the present and the future."

"Maybe after we get ready and see Mom, we can talk about all that's been
going on."

"Sure thing."

"Well, shower and get dressed. Anthony has breakfast almost ready. Then
we're all off to see Millie of the Skipping Stones."

Mom was delighted to see us, of course. "Where have you three been? It's
almost noon. I even got out of bed for you and you weren't here."

"I'm afraid I couldn't get those two out of bed for anything," Anthony
laughed. "Don't think they ever actually went to bed last night."

"Actually we didn't," I said. "It was this morning before we called it a
night."

"What about Larry and Jacob? Eugene, I hope you didn't screw them up. And,
Jason, did you find out what a pouty, childish ass you have been by not
coming sooner?" Millie was on a roll.

"Larry took Eugene's car to get himself and Jacob to Lexington," Jason
said, "and, yes, I had already decided I have been a jerk--and Anthony made
sure I meant it when I told him that. That's why Eugene and I were up all
night."

"Good. I hope you don't think you had me fooled with your lame excuses. How
long are you staying?"

"Anthony and I talked before Eugene got up, and called the office. Edith
assured us she could keep the office going a month if necessary, so we'll
be here until you're home and settled. I will stay until Eugene's ordeal
with the trial is over. To tell the truth, Edith can run the office very
well without me--or Anthony."

"Fine. I'll be leaving day after tomorrow. Started walking a bit this
morning. Amazing what new parts can do."

We stayed about an hour, at one point guarding Millie while she used a
walker to move around the room a bit, then started back home. On the way,
Jason commented on what had been done to the "dump" on the street where
Millie lived and I suggested we take a closer look, knowing Uncle Michael
would welcome a visit. After the grand tour--the renovations were almost
complete--Uncle Michael suggested we also go to the hospitality house,
especially to see Luke's sculpture. When we finished, it was mid-afternoon
so we had lunch at a Greek place Michael had told us about, then went back
to spend some time with Millie. By the time we got home, it was five and
Larry was back. Mr. Greentree insisted he leave early after he heard what
had happened.

I suggested we pack a picnic and go to the falls and talk. After the picnic
was ready, we drove out to the country, stopped at the Greywolf's to thank
them for picking up Jason and Anthony and tell them we were going to the
falls to talk. "Not a better place in the world for that," Yong Jin said,
then asked if I had read Luke's and Matt's e-mails. I hadn't even thought
to check, so she handed me copies of both and I took them to the falls.

While Larry and I read the letters, Jason and Anthony got the picnic
ready. As we sat down to eat, Larry said, "It doesn't take much reading
between the lines to see that Matt and Luke have their hands full. Both
worried about being unfaithful, and Luke has a woman with the hots for him
and Matt is sharing a suite with a Luke look-alike and
almost-namesake. Wow!"

"Do you think a woman would be tempting to you?" Anthony asked. "I mean
you're gay and know you're gay and are very much out."

"You know, at first thought I would say no, but as hard as I tried to deny
being gay for so long, I wonder if I might start thinking something like,
'Well, I know I like Eugene and that makes me gay, but am I really? Maybe I
need to try being with a woman and see.' But, no, I have never thought
about it--don't think I could ever really think about it. Then, when I
recall what I did trying to prove I wasn't gay, and if I were separated
from Eugene for six weeks and was as horny as hell, I honestly don't
know. Don't think I'd follow through, but then I've never had a woman all
over me. Then, too, knowing Luke, I'm sure that what he has written is only
part of the story. If he says she's after his bod, you can believe she is
really after it."

"Matt's a different case--I don't mean about being interested in a woman,
but ... Well," I said, "Matt has always worried he would cheat on Luke. As
we all know--in the words of Michael--Matt is hot to trot and makes no
bones about it--boner yes, bones no. I know one thing, they have talked
about being tempted and it sure looks as if someone has taken them at their
word."

"Well, let's eat. Nothing we can do about their struggle," Jason said. We
dug in while Larry talked about what he had done his first day as a
audio/video intern. "You must be proud your video was played at the music
conference at Sewanee. Now you get credit for doing it because you can bet
it will be talked about all over the country."

"I must confess, I wasn't made to feel humble when I was asked about it by
Dr. Camp or by Matt's description of its reception--not at all. Since all
the copyright stuff--there was little--was cleared before it was broadcast,
the tapes can be sold and Mr. Greentree told me today I have all rights to
their sale and can use the duplication equipment at the studio. Now if the
people of Sewanee will just get carried away and order tapes...."

"To receive your video, just call the toll-free number at the bottom of
your screen. Have your credit card ready and the tape will be rushed to you
for not $59.99, not $49.99, but only $39.99. And if you call in the next
five minutes, we'll include, absolutely free, a CD of the two original
compositions from the concert. But hurry, this offer will not be repeated
more than a zillion times!" We were all actually rolling on the ground at
Anthony's imitation of all those special TV offers. "Actually, I have a guy
in the business who could handle that for you--I don't mean the TV ads, but
the orders and shipping, credit card transactions and all. I'll give him a
call if you like."

"Sounds good to me. Just in case there are requests, Mr. Greentree showed
me how to operate the duplication equipment and we turned out ten copies
today."

"Well, you know the fine print at the bottom of those ads: 'Please allow
six to eight weeks for delivery'. Looks like we may have something here."

"I don't want to be pushy or prying, but Eugene got on my case about
carrying guilt around this morning..." Jason started.

"He would. He's very good at that," Larry said as he smiled, leaned over
and kissed me.

"You two seem to be much into kissing," Anthony laughed.

"Recommend it highly," I said. "Actually, it seems to be a major habit
among the Fellowship which I, for one, have no intention of breaking!"

"The Fellowship?" Jason asked.

"Another thing you need to know about," I said. "And why I had problems
with anger and rage and a whole lot of stuff. Where to start?" Well, for
the next couple hours--the sun was setting when we left--we told Jason and
Anthony about the Fellowship, how the concert came to be, what was going on
this summer--with all that led up to my having to be in Lexington--without
really talking about Larry and me. Yea, if you work at it, you can skate
past the bad part.

Finally Larry said, "Ok, you can see why Eugene has a problem controlling
his anger and rage at times, but it has seldom been focused in the wrong
place as Danny's, Jake's and Buddy's has. You need to know about my
guilt--which I usually manage to put behind me--because it's why I love
Eugene more than I can ever tell him." He then told about how he had raped
me trying to prove he wasn't gay.

"Larry, if a man loves you enough to forgive that, you better hang on to
him. He's a very special guy. I don't care how much you love him now, it
would sure take something to forgive that. I'm not sure I would have been
able to forgive Jason. No wonder the two of you are in therapy and, thank
God, it's apparently working. It's amazing," Anthony said.

"I'm not sure I would be man enough to ever forgive someone who raped me,
Jason added."

"You would if you loved someone as much as I loved Larry and if he had
returned that love and made your hellish life complete the way he had made
mine," I replied.

"I see what Yong Jin meant about this being a special place for
talking. Thanks, Brother, I'll never call you little again," Jason
said. "Now I suspect we better get our things together and tuck Mom in or
she'll beat our be-hinds!"

We did just that and when Larry and I went to bed, we made beautiful,
gentle love. "Eugene," he said as he lay in my arms in the afterglow of
perfect love making, "see why I have difficulty with guilt? Anthony, who
has been Jason's soulmate for years, says he would have a hard time
forgiving that kind of attack from Jason. And, to be honest, I would
too--if I ever could. You are special, Gene, my very special soulmate." He
kissed me gently--I'm sure glad the Fellowship and, most of all, Larry and
I--is into kissing, I love it! Soon we were asleep in each other's
arms--after the very unromantic task of setting the alarm clock so Larry
could drive to Lexington in the morning. He said he would drive back and
forth until I had to go and stay--which, so far as I knew, was still
Wednesday. I noticed on the news that the day had been spent selecting a
jury and the defense team had said it would have an important announcement
Tuesday noon, after the morning session of court recessed.

Well! The announcement got the defense lawyer a dressing down by the judge!
He announced that the defense would show that, as a gay man, I had
willingly submitted to McBride's advances and that I had been purchased as
a "boy sex toy" by a prominent Concord matron for her gay son. The judge
was furious. He made it very clear that even if both statements were true,
they had nothing to do with the case. "This case is about producing and
distributing child pornography," he had fairly shouted when court resumed
in the afternoon. "Fortunately you made this statement before the jury has
been selected and I will personally question each juror concerning what you
have said publicly. Even if Mr. Willingham had submitted to advances, he
was underage and could not give consent. And even if he had been purchased
as a sex toy in the last year, it would have nothing to do with this
case. I ask you why these issues weren't brought up when the defendant was
charged with child sexual abuse? Not that it would have made any
difference, but it would have, maybe, seemed to have some connection with
that case. If you so much as breathe a word like this again to the press,
or in this courtroom, I'll hold you in contempt and charge you before the
ethics committee. Do you understand me?" The lawyer, it was reported, only
nodded.

When Jason saw the news, he called his and Millie's lawyers and asked them
to file lawsuits against the lawyer immediately. "Eugene, you have been
libeled and I intend to make the bastard pay," he said.

Needless to say, when we went to the hospital Tuesday night, Millie was fit
to be tied. "I want that lying bastard to realize he has raised the ire of
a mother over her sons."

I packed for a few days' stay in Lexington, and Larry and I planned to get
to bed a bit early. He was pretty tired from having to get up and drive to
Lexington the last two mornings and not getting to bed until late. When I
was packed, I fixed Anthony and Jason a JD and branch, grabbed a couple
sodas for me and Larry, and the four of us went upstairs and talked about
the events of the day. Jason explained that the defense lawyer had risked
making untrue public statements in the hope of swaying a jury and it had
backfired. "Millie says all three of us need to file suits and that is
being done."

"More time in court," Eugene sighed.

"I doubt it," Anthony said. "If the lawyer is as smart as I think he
is--although he was a perfect damn fool in what he did--he'll settle out of
court. Anything Millie gets goes to the hospice, and anything Jason might
get we have decided goes to a home for abused boys that he and I have been
supporting for years. You, of course, will probably want to keep yours."

"Actually, I have scholarships to Oberlin and Millie has settled an
allowance on me, so I don't really need it. Damn, I can't believe those
words. For years my father gave me as little as possible--and that usually
after a beating--and now I have more than I need. But I would like to help
take care of my sister." I had to tell Anthony and Jason that story. "And
while he'll fuss, I'll take the rest and put it in a fund to help Larry."
Larry started to fuss when Anthony asked, "Larry, just how long do you plan
to stay with Eugene?"

"At least until I am dead," Larry answered.

"Then you need to realize that his good times and his bad times are yours
as well. You'll help him over rough spots with what you have, he happens to
have money to help you over one. You're in this thing called life together
or you're not." That ended that discussion.

We all finished our drinks and Larry and I had a time in the jacuzzi and
then went to bed, snuggled together, and he was asleep in minutes. It took
me a while longer to escape into dream time.


Special Place--Part Forty-seven--Michael

If I wondered what I had gotten myself into last night, my wondering was
doubled when at 5:30 someone knocked on my cell door. "Praise the Lord,
Christ is risen!" a voice outside the door called.

Fortunately, I remembered and responded, "He is risen indeed!" and, under
my breath, said, "But I'm not!" I wanted to pull the covers over my head
and go back to sleep. After all, I had slept less than six hours and I
never got up before God unless I had school or something, and Millie was
sure God didn't get up until 10:00. Nonetheless, I dragged myself out of
bed, went down the hall to the bathroom and washed my face, brushed my
teeth and combed my hair.

I went back to my room, slipped into my cassock and headed for the
chapel. I must confess, I was half asleep throughout Mass and heard little
that was said. Breakfast was eaten in silence, of course, while a monk
read. I didn't hear him either. After breakfast, I returned to my cell, got
my toiletries and went to the bathroom to shower and shave. After I
lathered my face, I thought better of it and decided I'd not shave while I
was here.

I had just dressed when a monk came and said Father Abbot would see me. We
talked for an hour. He wanted to know exactly why I had decided to spend a
month with monks, what I expected to accomplish while I was with them, that
sort of thing. I explained the best I could, admitting my own confusion. At
one point he asked, "You say you are considering the priesthood, but not
the religious life?" I really didn't know what he meant and said so. "You
are not considering becoming a monk."

"Hardly! I'm having enough trouble with the woman I intend to marry without
that!"

Father Abbot laughed. "Well, Michael, I think you are a bit young to be
talking about marriage."

The "you're too young" song and dance had gotten old, very old, and I told
Father Abbot so--in no uncertain terms. "I see you have a bit of a temper,"
he said.

"Only when things I hold sacred are trampled on," I responded, still hot
under the collar. "And this 'you're too young' bit tramples on a love and a
commitment I hold very sacred."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend, but you are talking about a life-long
commitment and you're only sixteen. I am over four times as old as you and
know that things look very different at 65 than at 16."

"I find it interesting that you are perfectly willing to have me spend a
month considering whether or not to become a priest and think that's
perfectly all right--and I think I am correct that becoming a priest
involves a life-time commitment--but a decision about marriage is out of
the question because I'm too young."

The Abbot laughed and said, "You nailed me on that one! I think we'll have
an interesting month together. Well, about your stay here. You know the
drill, right?" I nodded. "Then I needn't go into it. Our life revolves
around work, study and prayer. The times of corporate prayer--services--you
already know. You have time for private prayer..."

"I'm not sure I know how you want me to pray," I said. "I have never been
one to do the 'kneel beside your bed' kind of praying, if you know what I
mean."

"I think I do. You pray any way you find fits. I was never one to put much
stock in teaching people how to pray. For me, it's just kind of natural and
I think it is for most people, even those who don't think they are
praying. I once knew a Methodist cleric who said all of life is about
meditation, contemplation and prayer. Now his definitions of those were not
what you'd find in a book on spirituality or what you'd hear from most
monks. But I think he was right."

"Contemplation, for him, answered the question, 'Who am I?' I suspect
that's one of the things you'll be sorting out while you are here. I hope
it is. As you answer that question--it's the hardest and the one which has
a different answer just about every day unless you are dead, and I'm not
talking about in-the-grave dead but walking-around dead--you are faced with
'What do I?' Call it lifestyle if you find that helpful. That's doing. If I
am who I am, what do I do? You still with me?"

"I think so."

"Well, before you do, you do a lot of praying--I don't mean the usual. You
think and evaluate and think again about how you do what you are; how you
be an authentic person. That's prayer. And in that thinking and evaluating
and struggling with how you be an authentic person, you just naturally
express gratitude and repentance. Just naturally. I'm convinced that the
religious person is concerned with only one thing and that is how to be
fully, authentically human. Earning heaven and avoiding hell is, for me at
least, a matter of no concern whatsoever. I don't even care if they exist
or not. I just want to be the most fully human, most authentic, person I
can be. Make sense?"

"Yea. It's about what Matt does before he goes to sleep--he thinks over the
day, giving thanks for all the things which have made his life full, and
expressing sorrow for all the things he has done or left undone which have
made it less full and for the times he has hurt others. Yea, it makes
sense. I like that."

"Well, if you'd like to work with someone who does believe in a more formal
approach, I'll arrange it."

"Not where I think I need to spend time."

"Where do you think you need to spend time?"

"Can I be honest?"

"Well, you'll do no good spending time here unless you are."

"Not long ago I asked my brother if he thought I was a religious person. We
talked about that and he finally said, 'No, I don't think you are a
religious person. Are you a spirit man? Definitely.' Well, what he said
made a lot of sense. I think at this point, that's where I'm stuck in
deciding about the priesthood. I mean, if a priest has to be a religious
person, then I may as well go home now. If it requires a spirit person,
then I have to struggle with whether or not that's how I want to be a
spirit man."

"Not a spiritual man?"

"Not if being spiritual means living outside the real world." I smiled and
said, "I think I'm right that some Jewish guy said something about living
in the world, but not being of it. That's what I think I am about and need
to understand."

"I understand. And when you think about being a spirit man, you can forget
I used the term religious person because when I use it I mean what you call
a spirit man. I like that. Are you sure you're just sixteen?" the Abbot
asked and, when I looked up, he had a smile on his face and that made me
smile. "Michael, I think you're going to be a breath of fresh air around
here this month. Brother Gregory will take you in tow and show you the
ropes, but I want to spend time with you. Right now it's time to do morning
work and I think you have been assigned to the kitchen for the
present. When you get back to your cell, I want you to do some
writing--whatever you wish and need to write, but also write out what you
would call your spirit journey. Start where you wish and end with your
decision to come here. No one will read it--unless you ask--but I want you
to put it on paper so it will be fresh in your mind. Beginning tomorrow,
we'll spend an hour a day together and you tell me about your spirit
journey."

"Thanks, Father," I said as I stood.

"That's why I'm here," he said as he laid a hand on my head. "Michael,
you're special. I hope you know that and I wish I could say your time on
earth will be easy, but I'm afraid not. But, my son, you will lead an
exciting life."

I found the structure and schedule of the abbey comforting. I didn't have
to worry about anything, which freed my mind and my spirit to think and
search. My sessions with the Abbot started with me talking about my
life--the first session I just talked, but then asked that he read what I
had written before I came to see him so he'd better understand me and my
struggle. We talked about everything--my mother's illness and death, Luke's
attempted suicide, discovering Mary Kathryn loved me, the books Fr. Tom had
suggested I read--everything. I worked in the kitchen and in the garden,
loved the services and spent a lot of time thinking and, in my version,
praying.

Toward the end of the second week, I was talking with the Abbot about my
relationship with Mary Kathryn, and before I knew it I had told him about
our love-making and the difficulty we had not crossing the line we had, to
that point, set for ourselves. "Doesn't sound very priestly, does it?"

"Michael, a man I loved and respected very much is now, I fear, a neglected
theologian. He died at an early age--45--and because what he wrote was
controversial, it was just ignored after his death. Too many people--and
far too many priests--think theology is something you learn, that it's all
in books. You know some of those books, Fr. Tom had you reading them--and
you do need to know the thinking of the church in the past--but theology is
living and breathing or it kills. Anyway, Terry was a great
theologian. Since he often wrote about sex, a little old lady came up to
him once and said, 'Father, I think you are a dirty old man!' and--this is
true--whopped him with her umbrella. He looked her straight in the eye and
said, 'Madam, every theologian is a dirty old man, even if she's a young
woman!' His point, as I am sure you know, was that theology had to deal
with the nitty-gritty issues of human life. So your lustiness sounds as
though you have made a start toward becoming a theologian. And, as an
aside, I guess I just took away another excuse for why you should not
consider the priesthood."

I wrote the Fellowship every third day what was going on in some
detail--what I was doing, but mostly what I was thinking. Of course, I
wrote Mary Kathryn a special letter each time, telling her how I missed and
loved her. I had written her about the Abbot's talking about prayer, and
the definition of a theologian as a dirty old man.

I was well into the third week when I lay on my bed--it didn't seem as hard
any more--thinking about my time at the Abbey when I realized the question
of going into the priesthood had not been raised by the Abbot, and I hadn't
given it any thought after our first conversation. Interesting!


A Special Place--Part Forty-seven--Matt

I got up before Lucas and showered, and was sitting in my room braiding my
hair when he came from the bathroom, a towel around his neck and nothing
else. I took one look and said to myself, "He's definitely not Luke." Luke
was absolutely smooth and this guy was covered with blond hair--I was to
learn to hate it because he never cleaned the shower and shed like a dog.

"Last night was great," he said, standing in the door. "You sure put some
old farts on alert as to what they have to do."

"I had nothing to do with it," I answered. "I was as surprised as you."

He was looking around the room and spotted the picture by my bed, walked
over and picked it up. "Interesting photo. Who's the guy?"

"Luke, my best friend," I responded.

"Great picture he's standing beside. He must think you're special."

"I hope so. He's special."

Lucas raised an eyebrow, but I said nothing more. "Well, I better get
dressed if we are to make breakfast."

"Getting dressed might be a good idea. It's Sewanee you know," I said and
laughed.

After breakfast, we had a gathering to talk about what we wanted to do
during the program. There were many offerings and we were told that, so
long as the leaders were willing to hold one, there was no minimum number
for a workshop. As I was looking over the offerings, Dr. Camp came by and
said, "Matt, Woody would like to talk with you about what he thinks you
should do, kinda be your mentor since you are new to the program".

I walked across the room to where Mr. Woods was seated. "Good morning,
Mr. Woods," I said.

"Please call me Woody. I know I'm one of the old farts, but I'd like for us
just to be friends. Equals, although at my best I was never your equal as
an organist. I told Edward I'd like to take you under my wing if you are
willing. I think I can help you get the maximum out of the program, but
what did you have in mind?"

I told him I expected just to have organ lessons and hadn't realized there
were other possibilities.

"Why do you think you need lessons?" he asked.

"Mainly I need someone who can help me with my footwork. I am not satisfied
with it. Also, now that I see they are available, I'd like to get into one
of the composition workshops. I know I have a very long way to go there."

"Improvisation?"

"Pretty weak there, too."

"I'd like you to do a workshop dealing with church music--especially one
dealing with some new thinking about liturgical music--playing, looking at
some of the newer stuff and composing."

"Wow! I hadn't expected so much--so many possibilities I mean." We looked
over the offered workshops and laid out a plan for the four weeks. We also
picked out other options should a workshop not be given. With Woody's help,
I had my plan done long before the others and got what I wanted--four
sessions: organ lessons, composition, improvisation, and organ history and
building. Since we were finished, we sat and talked. I asked Woody about
his career.

"I'm a priest," he said. "When I was ordained, a large parish took me on as
an assistant with the understanding I would also serve part-time as an
organist. They had an organist who wanted to be part-time as well so it
worked out fine. I preached and celebrated every other week and was
organist on the other Sundays. I was wearing two hats and loved it. I met
and married a wonderful woman while I was in that parish and we stayed for
six years after we were married. We expected to start our family there, but
that was not to be--there or anywhere else."

"In my new position, I was rector of a middle-sized parish--like St. Mary's
I guess--and the organ went by the wayside. Although when I had had it with
some bull going on in the parish, I'd go into the church and play. I also
played every chance I got, but it was not often enough. I really missed the
organ and longed for another position like my first but once you've been a
rector, places assume there's something wrong with you if you want to be an
assistant. In the meantime, Alexandria, my wife, decided she would study
for the priesthood and, when she was ordained, we found a parish in Ohio
that was happy to have a priest and organist package. Didn't learn to like
the weather, loved the parish. I took on students and, when I was asked to
supply in parishes, always had someone good enough to play for a service or
two. It was an ideal situation."

"We were there for ten wonderful years then Alexandria became very ill. I
had an opportunity to take early retirement and did, because we knew she
wouldn't live very long. Got a motor home and traveled, stopping when she
needed to. A year after we started our trip, I found her dead beside me
when I woke up one morning. I moped around awhile and then realized I was
wasting precious life, and looked around for something to do. Found a small
parish which was about to close because it didn't have a priest or money to
pay one. I took it on for use of the rectory. Been there ever since. Am
here for the summer program while a priest who wants a break takes over the
parish, play when I get a chance, and hold down the parish with the help of
the laity. Also have students still. They play for most of the services
but, if not, I priest awhile and play awhile. Kinda one man band. Still
hate Ohio winters, but being near Oberlin for concerts helps make up for
it."

"You're near Oberlin?" I asked excitedly. "I'll be there next year. In fact
Paula and Eugene are going as well. Two of our other friends are going
also." I then told Woody about how we got the scholarships without
explaining all the details. In other words, I didn't explain the
relationships among the five.

"I'll keep that in mind. Think I might find a place for you to play if
you're interested. Maybe a place for the other two as well. Well, back to
your program. I just thought of something. I've got you signed up for an
excellent teacher so far as your footwork is concerned, but I'd like to
spend some time with you while you practice. He can show you things I can't
because of my damn gimpy leg, but I can observe and correct while you're
practicing. I mean, if you'd like.

"I'd appreciate it, Woody," I said and I meant it.

When all the plans were turned in, it was lunch time and we were told the
committee would go over them and have any changes ready by 2:00--but since
mine were turned in early, they were already approved. "Meet back here then
and we'll get started."

Lucas and an older fellow joined us for lunch. "Matt, like you to meet
Stinky Mason," Woody said. "Stinky and I were students together at
St. Luke's--as the seminary was called back in the Dark Ages."

"Matt, glad to meet you. See old Woody grabbed you right off the bat. Hoped
I might get a chance at corrupting you."

"Stinky is the best foot man in the organ business," Woody
laughed. "Unfortunately, his hand work leaves a lot to be
desired. Actually, to be honest, Stinky, I signed him up to work with you
because he wanted help with his feet. Told him you were the best and I'd
coach him at practice."

"You've got the best," Lucas said. "Stinky is the best man I know at
teaching the pedal clavier and Woody is a damn hard taskmaster. If you
learn nothing else these four weeks, you'll be able to dance on the
pedals."

"What else did you get him into, Woody?" Stinky asked. He insisted I call
him Stinky and, when I said it made me feel disrespectful, he laughed and
said that was my problem, not his.

We talked about what Woody and I had decided and Lucas said, "Hey, the kid
came here to have fun. You guys intend to work him all the time."

"If he can't find a way to have fun in spite of us, I guess he's not really
a Sewanee man," Stinky laughed. "What does next year look like, Matt?" he
asked.

I again repeated the story of how I ended up at Oberlin and Stinky kept
nodding. "And the two we saw conducting last night will be there?"

I assured him they would be. "Along with my best friend who is an artist
and another who is studying mass communications, the one responsible for
the tape sprung on me last night," I added.

"I wondered if you really didn't know about that," Stinky said.

After lunch, I went to the workshop on composition. It was not easy as I
was just about completely self-taught and what was being worked on and
discussed was not something I knew. I caught on fairly quickly but knew
this was going to require real work. The same was true of the second
afternoon session, liturgical music. I had played most of what was talked
about but never really thought about it much beyond that.

When the session ended, it was nearly five and dinner was at seven each
evening. I started walking back toward the dorm when I heard Lucas call,
"Hold up, Matt". When he caught up with me, he asked about the sessions and
I told him they were not going to be easy. "Sure they will. It'll just take
a bit of time. You swim?" I nodded and he said, "Great. Pool or lake?" I
told him river and he asked if I'd like to take a short trip to where he
knew a great place to swim--"You'll love it if you love swimming in
rivers," he said. "Grab a towel--you skinny dip?" Again I nodded and, as we
were coming out of the dorm, he said, "You have a Jeep, right?" I indicated
I did and he suggested we take it.

Sewanee sits atop what is fondly called "God's Holy Mountain". It's not
like the mountains I knew at home, but a plateau. The top where the
university sits is flat, but go in any direction and soon you encounter a
cliff several hundred feet above the valley floor. We drove down a paved
road which became a gravel road and then a narrow dirt road. I could see
why Lucas suggested the Jeep. When I thought the road could get no worse,
Lucas indicated a barely visible trail and we drove down it--slowly--for
half a mile. We had been descending the entire way and when he said, "Ok,
we stop here," I could see, through the trees, a broad valley stretching
out before us and could hear a waterfall.

We walked a few hundred feet, following a trail barely wide enough for one
person, then suddenly walked into a clearing by a waterfall. It was not as
beautiful as THE falls but it was nice, and there was a small basin the
water spilled into from the falls. "This is it," Lucas said. "Not too many
people know about it. My best friend showed it to me when I came up to
visit him when he was a student in the college. Well, last one in's a
rotten egg!" We both stripped and I was about to dive in when Lucas yelled,
"Stop! No diving. There are rocks on the bottom and you don't want a broken
neck." We waded in. The water was a lot colder than I expected and, when I
commented on it, Lucas told me it came from a cave on the side of the
mountain above us. It was cold and so refreshing it reminded me of all the
good times I had had at THE falls.

After half an hour or so, Lucas was completely blue. "You're looking like a
Druid, all blue," I laughed. "You blonds get like that. I've seen Luke so
blue I wondered if he'd live." I shouldn't have said that because I
suddenly had that awful image of Luke after I had dragged him to the
waiting hands of the EMS.

I sat silent for a while and, finally, Lucas said, "You have the strangest,
pained look on your face. Something wrong?"

"Just an unpleasant memory which popped up unexpectedly. I'll be ok."

We had waded out of the water and were sitting on the bank when I said
that. Lucas reached out and put his arm around my shoulder. "Want to talk
about it?"

I shook my head and then after second thoughts said, "Alright," and told
him about Luke's attempted suicide--but not the reason. Thank goodness, he
didn't ask.

"This Luke is very important to you," he mused.

"Yea, he's my brother."

"Your brother?"

"Well, yes and no." I then told him about the families and how we all
looked at ourselves as a family.

"So you have two brothers and a sister and three mothers and three
fathers. WOW!"

He kept encouraging me until I had told him the story of the families and
what the kids were doing this summer. When I finished, he picked up his
watch and said, "We better get a move on or we'll miss dinner."

"Thanks for a wonderful afternoon, Lucas," I said after we were in the Jeep
and headed back up the mountain.

At dinner, Woody and Stinky joined us again. We were in a smaller dining
room than last night and the tables only seated four. "Lucas show you a
good time this afternoon?" Stinky asked.

"Sure did. We drove down the mountain to..."

"To the river, I bet," Woody finished my sentence. "That's where Stinky got
his name. We ditched class one afternoon and walked down there. I had been
told about it by a friend who had finished Sewanee the year before. As we
were walking back, Stinky encountered a black and white pussy cat and got
too close. Took a week before anyone wanted to be around him. Finally a
professor told him tomato juice would get rid of the skunk scent. It at
least helped. I'm sure the college store thought we were having a
tremendous Bloody Mary party!" Both men were dying laughing. "It's a
beautiful spot. Few people know about it and I haven't been in years. Can't
handle the walk down the mountain."

"I have a Jeep so we drove to within a few hundred feet or so. Think you
could handle that?"

"Sure would like to try."

"First chance we get to go back, you're on!"

After dinner, Stinky asked if I would like to play some for him. "Want to
see just how bad you really are," he said. Soon Woody, Stinky and I were in
All Saints Chapel. It was huge compared to St. Mary's, and I expected some
organ. Man was I ever disappointed. After playing for a few minutes I said
to Stinky, "This organ sucks!"

"You are not the first to say that. It's a good organ, but the heat means
it is out of tune most of the time in the summer. Don't know why they
haven't gotten around to air-conditioning the place--if not for the people,
at least for the organ. Doesn't make sense."

After I had played awhile, Woody said, "Matt, you are an organ whore. Know
what that is?" I shook my head. "An organ whore is someone who can't keep
his knees together. When you reach for the end of the pedals, you spread
your knees."

"My organ teacher started by tying my knees together," Stinky said, "but
when he released them again, apart they came. When I was twelve or
thirteen, he'd place a dollar bill between my knees. If I finished a lesson
and still had the bill, it was mine. There was an ice cream parlor on the
way home and I loved chocolate malts, so I'd hang on to that bill and get
my malted. Don't know what we can do for you, but we'll work on it."

When I walked back to the dorm, Lucas was in our common room watching some
movie which he stopped when I came in. "You brought a VCR?" I asked.

"I'm a movie nut. Where I go, the VCR goes," he said. "Wanta watch? It's
hot!"

"Thanks, I don't think so. I need to write some e-mails and work on
composition before I go to bed." When I finished the e-mails telling
everyone about my day, I reviewed my notes from the liturgical music group
and the those from composition. I also had some exercises in composition to
do.

I was so involved in what I was doing that I didn't know when Lucas came
down the hall and stopped at my open door. "Hi, how's it going?" he asked.

"Oh, sorry, didn't know you were there. Not easy, but it's starting to make
sense. Come in."

Lucas walked in and asked, "Can I take a close look at that photograph
again?"

"Sure." He looked at the photo and then at me several times and finally
said, "Great painting. Good-looking brother you have too." Then he asked,
"Want to take a break for a cold one?"

"If it's Coke," I said. "I'm not into beer, at least not yet." I stood up,
stretched and followed him to the common room. He got a beer and a Coke out
of the frig and we sat down.

"Tell me about that photo. It's fascinating." I told Lucas about the
exhibition and that Luke was inspired to do the painting when he saw my
hair blowing in the wind as we came from the falls one day. He didn't ask
any more questions about it, but did ask, "Was all the exhibition as good
as this painting?"

"I guess that is in the eye of the beholder," I laughed. "One piece, a
montage Luke thought was nothing, sold for a hefty price but, basically, it
was all as good as the painting, I think, but I'm prejudiced. He is my
brother and best friend."

"I sure would like to have seen it," Lucas said.

"Maybe I have the second best thing. I have a video of the exhibition with
Michael and Mary Kathryn, another brother and my sister, as docents. Maybe
we can watch it one night, but tonight I'm ready to hit the sack."

I had forgotten our conversation until Thursday, when Stinky and Woody
agreed to go to the river with us. After swimming until we were
half-frozen, we were all four sitting on the bank in our altogether when
Lucas said, "Stinky, Woody, this kid is from a really great
family. Talented as shit too. Tell them about the family, Matt."

I did and, when I finished, Lucas said, "He has a brother--well, not his
blood brother--who is an artist. Matt has a photo of him and a painting of
Matt he did in his room that is a knockout. Tells me he has a video of an
exhibition that was held at the same time as the concert. His other brother
and sister are the docents. You old codgers interested?"

"Sure," Woody answered immediately. "How about we bring a couple bottles of
good wine up tomorrow night and have a look?"

"Think Dr. Camp would be interested?" I asked. "He should have to sit
through another video after making you all sit through one."

"Call him Edward," Stinky said, "but never Ed. He hates that. Actually,
he's more into art than either of us--not that I'm not interested, but he
will just eat it up. You want to ask him?"

"Yea."

"In that case, Woody, better make it three bottles of the good stuff."

"Not so long as I have JD," Lucas laughed.

"Well, you're right about that," Stinky said. "Friday night after dinner at
your common room."

"Why not use the big screen?" Woody asked. "It'll not be in use Friday
night--you can depend on it. There'll be parties all over the place."

"Suits me. I'll make arrangements for that," Stinky responded.

After dinner, Lucas started another movie and I hit the desk to do my
work. I was working as hard or harder than I had ever done in school and
was loving every minute of it--except when I got stuck and got frustrated,
which I was at the moment. I yelled for Lucas, who came running, I suspect
thinking I was being attacked or something. When I showed him what I was
doing, he laughed and said, "Matt, I couldn't compose a variation on 'Mary
Had a Little Lamb'. You passed me composing when you were still in diapers,
I'm sure. Why don't you hang it up for the night? The world will continue
spinning."

He was right, and I smiled and said, "Thanks for reminding me". I went to
the frig and got a Coke and brought him another beer. His movie was just
over and, as it finished, he asked about the family again. I went to the
room and brought back a small photo album I had put together for the
summer. We looked at the pictures and talked for an hour or so. When we had
finished, he said, "Four good-looking kids. I mean all four of you are
knockouts, and that Mary Kathryn is a real beauty. Bet she has boys all
over her."

I smiled and said, "Only one. She's not called wild woman for nothing. Not
only can she put most men in the dirt--and has done so to several--but they
would also have to deal with Michael and few want to take him on. Gentle as
a lamb except when it comes to fighting injustice and protecting his wild
woman."

"They're a pair?"

"Last time I heard. They are having a real struggle right now. Michael is
giving serious thought to becoming a priest and she wants no part of it. Of
course he says he'll never leave her for any reason and she would probably
never leave him, but it's a struggle."

"And they're only sixteen?"

"Just barely, but you'd never know it listening to them talk. Theirs is
definitely not just highschool puppy love." I turned the page and said,
"And here's the rest of the gang--The Fellowship of the Rings. You saw
Paula and Eugene. That's Larry who did the video. That's Jacob. He and
Paula are an item now. This is Bill and Linda. They are in church camp this
week along with Mary Kathryn. Michael is in a Benedictine monastery testing
his vocation. Larry's doing an internship with the PBS station in Lexington
where Jacob is doing construction work this summer. Paula's doing music in
a camp for Jewish children with problems. Eugene's involved in a court case
as a witness. We're scattered all over the place. And, of course,
Luke. Luke's in Sarasota at the Ringling School of Art."

"The Fellowship of the Rings?" Lucas looked puzzled so I told him about how
the Fellowship came to be, except I just said some posters were
vandalized. Then he said, "Seems you good-looking guys can't attract
women. Seems a bit lopsided in that department."

"I guess we're all just so close that's never seemed to be a problem." The
answer seemed to satisfy him. "Well, I'm off to bed. Just about exhausted
myself fretting over those composition exercises. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, see you in the morning."

The week which followed had pretty much the same pattern as the previous
one. Sessions in the morning and afternoon and then Lucas and I--sometimes
with Woody and Stinky--would do something before dinner. One day we tried
all the organs we could find, another we drove down the mountain to pick up
some things we needed, but mostly just to get away. We swam. After dinner,
I worked. I really worked on composition. Lucas kept telling me this was
just a summer program and I needed to have fun. In a strange way, wrestling
with composition was fun, but I never convinced him.

Wednesday of the first week, I had begun to have thoughts that Lucas was
gay. Thursday morning he came into the bathroom as I finished showering
and, while he was pissing, said, "Nice set of equipment you have
there. Uncut too. You said that and your hair was because of your father?"
I told him Dad was Lakota and wouldn't cut his hair except to trim the ends
when they needed it, and refused to allow me to be circumcised. "Good dad,"
he had said, then added, "You must drive the girls wild." I just gave him a
wicked grin and went to my room.

It didn't matter to me whether Lucas was gay or not, except by Thursday I
was missing Luke like crazy and the lust meter was registering pretty near
full. I had had a wet dream the night before, one of several I had had if
the truth be known, and that in spite of the fact that I had gotten myself
off a few times. I learned right away that having had Luke's hand on my
man's tool, my own was a piss-poor second best, but it was all I had.

Friday morning Lucas said he was going home to Nashville for the
weekend. "I'm leaving early tomorrow morning. My roommate and I are going
to party! Of course, I have to play Sunday, but that's no big deal. I've
gotten in more practice here than I probably would have at home. Want to
come? I promise you a good time."

"Sounds good," I said but, by the time I got back to the room, I was having
second thoughts. What if I had gotten in over my head?

After dinner Friday night, we went into the room where the opening dinner
had been held. Woody had said at dinner he had invited a bunch of people to
see the video of Luke's exhibition. "Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," I had said, "but I don't expect anyone else to show up". I
was proven wrong because there were twenty or thirty people in the room
when we entered.

Man, the big screen made a huge difference! Everyone was life-size and the
sound was perfect. I almost forgot where I was as I watched. Michael and
Mary Kathryn were superb. Of course I had thought that before, but I was
impressed all over again with the job they did. When Michael started the
interview with Luke, I could hardly stand to watch but, at the same time,
couldn't take my eyes off my Yonghon Tongmu. I missed him so much!

When the tape had finished, people were asking all sorts of questions of
Woody and he finally said, "You know just about as much as I know. The
exhibition was held in conjunction with Matt's concert you heard Monday
night. Matt, would you answer questions?"

"Sure, if I can."

The first question I had anticipated: "Tell us about the artist and the
young man and woman who were docents."

"They are my brothers and sister. Well, not blood kin, but our three
families are so close we called ourselves the family and consider ourselves
brothers and sister. The woman is Mary Kathryn Larsen, the artist's--Luke
Larsen's--sister. The man is Michael Andrews. And don't get your hopes up,
ladies. He belongs to Mary Kathryn and a mother tiger is tame compared to
wild woman."

One older woman laughed and said, "I can surely see why".

There were few other questions because Michael and Mary Kathryn had done
such a great job. Finally a man asked, "What happened to the works not
designated. I heard that the sculpture was given to a hospice hospitality
house and some of the others were given to individuals, but what of the
rest?"

"Most were sold. Michael's uncle, Michael Sanders, is Luke's agent. I might
add, the montage which we all thought was just a fun project, fetched a
handsome sum."

"How about that fantastic painting of you as an Indian? I'd love to get my
hands on that," a lady said.

"Well, first off, it was not entirely me AS an Indian. I am, at least
half. My dad is Lakota. Mom, by the way, is half Korean and half
American. But the painting was not for sale. However, when the school went
to the exhibition the day following its official opening, it was
slashed. In an attempt to defend it and the artist from attack, Michael was
also slashed and was given up for dead at one point. He did recover and the
painting was shipped to New York and restored. It is back with the artist."
There were a few more questions and, when it was over, Woody handed me the
tape and said, "Like to come to my apartment for a nightcap? I have the
wine we didn't have since we came here."

Lucas, Stinky, Edward and I went to Woody's apartment--he had a really nice
one--and he fixed a JD and branch for Edward, then broke open the
wine. Just after he had handed us our glasses, the phone rang. He listened
for a few minutes and said, "Think that's no problem". He turned toward me
and asked, "Matt, got anything against an electronic organ?"

"That all depends on the organ," I replied.

Woody talked into the phone, then turned and said, "A Rodgers 950".

"That's like mine. No problems with that."

"Problem solved, Bruce. Probably won't be "Sheep" either. He hung up the
phone and said, "Sorry to ruin your party weekend, Matt, but you're playing
in Chattanooga Sunday."

"In that case, I better run," Lucas said. "I'm leaving early in the morning
'cause I've been away way too long. Night all."

The rest of us continued drinking and talking. Actually, I did most of the
talking and little of the drinking. It seemed the three wanted to know all
there was to know about me. They were very interested in the painting
slashing and I managed to get through that without ever saying why it had
been slashed. Fortunately they were more interested in the whole shaman
thing.

Saturday, I slept in and didn't even know when Lucas left. When I had
gotten up and dressed, I went to hunt food since breakfast was long
passed. When I got back, I wrote a super-long general e-mail about the
events of the week and a long one to my Luke. I started to mention that I
thought I had a gay suite mate, but decided since I wasn't sure, I wouldn't
worry Luke, then changed my mind and did write him of my suspicions. He had
a right to know, I thought. I had e-mails from all the Fellowship which I
read, and then wrote some individual replies before lunch. Well, actually,
I got so busy reading and writing e-mail that I missed lunch as I had
breakfast, so I went to the student center and grabbed a snack. When I
finished it was after two and I still had to find the organ Woody told me I
could use for practice. I found it and practiced for two hours.

Woody had given me the hymns and service music numbers for Sunday and we
had selected three pieces for prelude, offertory and postlude. All were
familiar, but no "Sheep". When I felt I could handle Sunday, I took a break
and walked around the campus a bit, then returned to the organ and started
playing the transcription for organ of "Yonghon Tongmu" I had been working
on for one of the workshops. I wanted to hear how it sounded. I was so
absorbed in what I was doing I didn't hear Woody walk up behind me. I only
became aware of him when he started singing "More".

"Beautiful love song," he said when I turned around.

"It's the family theme song," I responded.

He looked at the music on the organ and said, "I see you're taking your
time here seriously".

"And I'm loving it."

"Well, it's almost seven and I thought you might like to see another
special place here on God's Holy Mountain. If you'll drive, I'll provide
the food and drink," he said, showing me a picnic basket.

We drove to a place, pretty remote, where you could sit on the edge of a
cliff and overlook the valley below. "Want you to see the sunset from
here," Woody said as he unpacked the basket. I told him about Lookout Rock
and how you could see both the sunrise and sunset from it.

We had a leisurely meal and talked of many things. Finally Woody asked,
"Matt, tell me more about the concert and exhibition--how did it all come
about?

I explained that the spring concerts had been canceled and I was obligated
to do a recital as my grade for an independent study and asked about the
chorus and ensemble joining me.

"Seems to me that was very generous. You could have done the recital and
gotten a great ego boost for a good one-man show."

"But look what an ego boost we all got! Actually, I just wanted to help
friends who were being deprived of an opportunity to perform--and perform
they did!"

"Couldn't agree more. But how did the exhibition come about? I don't see
the connection."

"Woody, you're a friend and a priest so I guess I need to tell you the
whole story." I told him about Luke's suicide attempt, and why, and all the
whole story."

"So you're gay and you and Luke are lovers. I wondered about that when I
saw your face while you were watching the video. And that painting didn't
look as if someone was inspired just by hair blowing in the wind. So what
is your relationship?"

I told Woody about our promise to wait, and how we had finally been
physically united. "Our relationship is until we are parted by death. We
are having a commitment ceremony when we think the time is right. Right now
we are separated and I am worried about being unfaithful. It just keeps
gnawing at me because I am always ready, if you know what I mean."

Woody laughed and said, "I think I can remember that far back." He then
fell silent and we both just sat, deep in our own thoughts. Finally he
said, "Matt, do you know that Lucas is gay?"

"No, I didn't know, but I have been wondering because of some remarks he
has made."

"I don't want you to get me wrong here. I took Lucas under my wing when he
came here the first time, as I have you. I like him a whole lot. He's a
good organist, sharp, and a fun person. As I said, I like him a lot. But I
have a real problem with his lifestyle and he knows it."

"You mean his being gay?" I felt my defenses rising.

"No, I don't mean his being gay. Being gay is a part of who he is, just as
being gay is a part of who you are. Being gay is not a lifestyle, it's how
you live as a gay man that is your lifestyle. Lucas is a playboy. He loves
sex and his motto is 'Variety is the spice of life'. He had a narrow escape
a little over a year ago when he took up with a new partner. They had been
together a month or two when he told Lucas he was HIV+. Lucas was scared
shitless. Fortunately, since he enjoys variety, he does use condoms but, as
he said, a couple nights before his partner told Lucas he was HIV+, he had
insisted on going 'bareback riding'. Lucas phoned me in Ohio in tears and,
as I said, very frightened. Fortunately, when he was tested several months
later, he was not positive. That taught him one lesson, but it has not
taught him anything else. I know from talking with him that as soon as a
partner starts talking about commitment and a long-term monogamous
relationship, Lucas skips. He went home today to a new roommate he has been
with for a couple months. I think six months with the same guy is his
record. And even then he is much into variety and insists on an open
relationship. Again, I like the guy and only wish the best for him, but I
want you to be warned. He is very seductive, charming, and a playboy. If
you were going to be tempted to be unfaithful, you couldn't have been put
in a better situation for you to yield. Besides, he sheds like a dog, I am
told, and never cleans the shower!" Woody laughed.

"Thanks, Woody. When he invited me to go to Nashville with him this
weekend, I got a very strange feeling after I agreed. Glad I didn't go. But
as you said, I like him too. It's just that he will have to understand that
I am into commitment--very, very much into commitment--but, man, I do get
horny."

"You're eighteen, Matt."

When we had finished that conversation, the sunset had started and got more
and more beautiful. Both of us just sat in silence enjoying it. At one
point I sighed and Woody said, "Wish Luke were here? I wish Alexandria was
here. Separation is the pits regardless of its length." When the last rays
of the sun disappeared, we went back to the campus and, after I showered, I
slipped into bed and dreamed of sharing the sunset with Luke when we were
as old as Woody.