Merkin

Jason shows us what could happen when 'wanting' turns into 'keeping' and 'loving' transforms into 'owning.' A terrible lesson.

This is preposterous. Who, then, is not included? Every adult in your realm who works or volunteers must contact some child at least once a week. Will the royals be required to register? What about those children who bear all those bouquets to hand off to the Queen?

James has the key concern laid out: in my small community, I cannot envision any of the "proper" people in town allowing their child to be identified as gay, much less separated out and sent to a different school. I can envision this scenario on any given morning: "Hey, there's Jimmy waiting for the Queer Bus! Let's get him!"

I agree with your analysis, Cole. It reminds me very strongly that I live in a region not that many years beyond the "separate but equal" spin put on segregated schooling. Integration, along with strong supervision and enforcement, finally broke down that particular smoke and mirror ploy, although de facto segregation still exists and it is no child's friend. James Merkin

I am grateful for your comments. I'm glad you have enjoyed this glimpse into the lives of Jesse and Artie. You may be seeing more of them, since I'm planning to record a few more of their adventures. James

Best Buds by Merkin Artie actually noticed the car before Jesse did. "Who's that?" he asked as he braked his bike at the end of Jesse's driveway. Jesse spotted familiar New Hampshire plates on the brand new Audi. "That's my Uncle Fred! My favorite uncle has new wheels! Sweet." He brought his bike to a halt beside Artie's and swung his leg over. "Unh, isn't he your only uncle? How can he be your favorite?" Artie was maddeningly logical sometimes. "Cork it, Artie. I think I need to go in now." "Can I come in and say hello? Maybe he'll give us a ride." "I'd better check things out first," said Jesse. "I thought we were best buds. I like your uncle Fred, too, you know." "We are best buds, Artie. And I know he likes you. But Uncle Fred never just shows up like this. I should go find out what's up." "O.K.... I'll see you." Obviously disappointed, Artie rode back toward his own house. Jesse watched to make sure he was well on his way before turning to go in. The next morning Jesse met Artie at the corner where they waited for the school bus. "Well?" "Well is a deep subject, Artie." "C'mon, dufus. What was the crisis?" Jesse had made up his mind to tell Artie. "No problem. Uncle Fred brought someone home for us to meet. He's getting married." "That's great, Jesse! You're gonna have a new aunt!" "It's a guy." Jesse glanced quickly at Artie's face. "Jeez." Artie thought hard as Jesse waited. Then he looked up. "Like I said, that's great! Now you can really choose a favorite uncle!" Jesse smiled. "Thanks, Artie." ______

Semi-colons are simply a part of the apparatus of written language. They have nothing to do with vanity or a desire to show off. They are essential to poets, who use them, along with commas, to control rhythm. James

Yeah. Like 'truth' and 'education.'

Absolutely. Poetry has always been meant to be read aloud -- even to oneself. James

Truth is way stranger than fiction, Bruin. Thanks for the clarification for this over on the News & Views forum. Such a complex web she wove, perhaps too much so for flash? A heroic effort nonetheless, and I applaud you for it. James

This is exquisite in its sensitivity and beautiful in its writing. It captures the heart of what caring is all about. The ending is absolutely devastating, and so right. Jame Merkin

They may be more committed to the use of sheep.

Terrific. The twist you've given the word from your title to the ending is inspired. James

Your fruity buns sound pretty good to me, but why reserve them for Easter? Biscuits here in the American Southland are a serious business, and a homemaker's reputation can be won or lost over their proper preparation. We have two commercial chains which pride themselves on their biscuits as their primary draw: BoJangle's and Hardee's. This region alone is responsible for supporting the incomes of most of the cardiac surgeons in the United States. James

What they did more of in NYC was to play stick-ball with a spaldeen. The spaldeen was a red rubber ball trademarked "Spaulding" hence its street name. In Baltimore we called it stoop-ball, and someone's front marble-stepped stoop was always home plate.

Either way, it beats queing up.

In that spirit, Colin and Des, I'd also suggest that there be no hesitation if a writer wants to go back into the series and add a new episode for placement somewhere along the way. James

Oh my. That is so wonderful. Thank you, Des. James

By all means go for it, Des. Once again I see that someone else's view of the horizon exceeds my own, and I cannot wait to discover the new territory. James

Epilogue -- Letter to Timothy by Merkin Dear Dr. Crowe, I am David Stone, Jonathan Stone's son. I was sorting through Dad's things, getting the house ready to sell, and I came across a box filled with letters and photographs and his university stuff. Most of it was about you, so I thought I'd better write and ask you whether you would want any of it. Dad passed away a few weeks ago; he had been ill off and on this past year -- his heart -- and we all knew the end was coming. I'm his only child, and we (my partner Curt and I) were with him at the end. My mother Mary died last year after a long time as an invalid with MS, so he was alone and we were with him a lot. I'm writing because I've figured some things out and I thought you'd like to know about us. I recognized your face in those photos in the box, because when I was a kid I went through his wallet once and saw a picture of the two of you there. He told me you were "Timothy, his old lab partner at the uni" and, being a kid, I didn't think much about it at the time or wonder why he would carry a picture like that all those years. Now that I've gone through the box I think I know. I knew my dad met Mother when they were both at uni and once when I was in high school I asked my parents why their wedding date was only six months before my birthday. I found out in a hurry that was the sort of question a teenager shouldn't ask his parents, and I never mentioned it again. I do know that they loved each other and that my dad never hesitated to give my mother all the time and support she needed, especially after she became ill and more or less began to live upstairs. My dad and I were pretty close, I guess, and I figured that out by comparing our relationship to my friends and their dads. He listened to me and talked to me like I was his equal and he was my best friend while I was growing up. He was a quiet man and lived very much inside his own head, but he was always there for me and I never felt shut out. Later when I left for the university I began to live my own life and then I met Curt, so when I went home I recognized his loneliness even while my mother was still alive. This is hard for me to say, but now that I think I know what you meant to him I also think I can begin to understand his situation. It helps that I have Curt. I can't imagine what you and he must have gone through, in that dark age before Stonewall. I think he was a little bit surprised on the day I told him I was going back to uni to be with my boyfriend, but now that I look back I think he knew all along that I might be gay. He loved Curt like another son, and he managed somehow to win my mother over to love Curt too. I hope I am not intruding on you and whatever you have had to do to get on with your life. I just wanted to tell you about Dad, and offer to send you the contents of his box of memories if these few things would be of any value to you. Sincerely, David Stone (P.S. I am enclosing a photo of Dad with me and Curt. I'm the bigger one he's hugging, just as you were in the picture of the two of you. It was still in his wallet.)

Wow. Such a fantastic outpouring; I'm at a loss for words. We have all found a unique collaboration, writers and readers alike, and it demonstrates so effectively how the sum can be so much greater than its parts. Grateful thanks to all of you. I have written an epilogue -- actually it was the first piece of this I had written, and it has been simmering underneath all of these wonderful embellishments as they filled in the blanks and completed the picture I had only dimly perceived at the outset. Now, with a bit of editing, I have refit it to suit the storyline we have all devised. With your permission, I will post it as a new thread and let all of you decide whether or not it should be included in this compilation. ("A Letter to Timothy" can be found at http://forums.awesomedude.com/index.php?showtopic=4348 ) James Merkin

Fly on the Wall by Merkin "Dad, I wish you could have been there. It was so different from how we have dinner." I could hear the excitement in David's voice. "Whoa. Slow down, boy. Is having a different dinner from us what's got you so worked up?" "Oh, no, Dad. But I sure miss your cooking." "Flattery will get you a Care package, and you know it. What'll it be -- cookies or brownies?" "How about both? You're baking for two now, you know!" David's voice, so alive, so different from the day he'd left to return to university. So much had changed for all of us since then. "So," I prodded, "the weekend went well?" The boys had just returned from the weekend at Curt's rural home, the weekend Curt had taken him home to meet his parents. I knew how worried both of them had been over it, and I'd spent several phone conversations assuring both of our boys that, no matter what the outcome, they had a home with us. Mary fully agreed, and had amazed David with her offer to write to Curt's parents as a followup, if Curt thought her account of how she came to grips with the boys' relationship would help smooth things over. Curt had taken the bull by the horns, as it were -- his father was a cattle rancher -- and decided what needed doing was for Curt to introduce David in person to his parents so they could see "just how normal we really were." I swallowed hard, thinking they were proceeding at Mach speed now that they were out at uni and here at home; I urged them to think it through carefully, fully aware of how dependent Curt still was on his parents' financial support. Brandon, however, had encouraged Curt to call and ask to go home and bring a friend. He pointed out that sooner or later their parents would find out about his living arrangements, and that the longer Curt concealed the facts the more he'd give the impression that he was both deceitful and ashamed -- at which both Curt and David had shouted him down. Brandon has turned out to be a very loving and level-headed big brother to both of our boys, and his final piece of advice to Curt was inspired: to be sure to give his dad a chance to steer the conversation since that was the role he had always insisted upon. "Dad, it was extraordinary. We got to the farm late Saturday afternoon, just in time for dinner. They eat early in the country, you know." "I'll country you. Get on with it!" "Well, Curt's mom took one look at us and I could see that she figured it out in a heartbeat. Her face must have run through sixteen different emotions, but the one she ended up with was a glowing smile. She kissed Curt and hugged me and for the first time in weeks I felt as though the world was off my shoulders. We stood there in that country kitchen with all the good smells and her warmth and I knew everything was going to be all right. Curt's dad was a gruff old bear, but he treated me with gentle courtesy throughout our stay and I realized I had no reason to worry about him. They are reserved people, but I could see how much they love Curt and they've had a whole year to come to grips with who he is. That was one of the things we talked about: how, over the year, they'd worked through their feelings and talked through 'what if's?' and 'when's?' and 'who will he bring home.?' I think they were more prepared to meet me than Curt could ever have realized. In an odd sort of way, it turned out to be easier for us to sit and talk about our relationship to them than it had been when I brought Curt home to meet you and mother." David was talking a mile a minute, but I could hear the relief in his voice, and the tension went out of my own shoulders. "So we turned out to be the bad guys after all," I said. "Dad! No way! You guys have been wonderful to us! But now we have two families, and our new aim is to get all of us together so you can meet them." I sighed, happy for my son and his wonderful partner. "Just so we don't have to have a cook-off to keep your attention." "Send the cookies and we?ll see." ______

Well, Trab, I can't imagine how multiple POV's by multiple characters, written by multiple hands and brains could lead to confusion! I think the timeline was originally laid down by Cole, when we learned Curt had been out to his parents and Brandon 'for over a year' by the time of his epic journey home with David to meet David's parents and stay the night. It was Brandon who has taken that year to come around and pony up the will to call his brother and make amends. Curt's father may also have said a few harsh words a year before, but like Brandon in this present moment he appears to finally gotten his head into a place where he is willing to reach out to Curt and accept him for who he is. It seems that David and Curt may be moving toward an important meeting as attitudes finally seem to be about to jell within Curt's family. Oh, to be a fly on the wall when they all sit down to that dinner table! Who's got the goods on that? James

Grant, had I even known that collaboration was going to happen I would have worn something nicer than my jammies and fuzzy slippers. Your solution for David to meet Curt's family gradually, beginning with Brandon on neutral turf went brilliantly. Des, I'm all for hooking it up together when it finds its natural end. I think, out of consideration for Pecman, that each element might continue to be labeled or formatted somehow as a separate section, but I am more than willing to leave the scheme for weaving it together up to you. I'm hard pressed to imagine where this saga is headed, and I think each contribution has been enormously insightful and exciting. I do have an idea for the very last element, when the time comes. James Merkin

In my neck of the woods that strip is called 'frontage' and it has an interesting legal relationship to the homeowner. It is actually part of the municipal right-of-way, as is the sidewalk itself. Thus, altough as homeowner your deed includes it, you have somewhat limited rights over it. You cannot, for example, plant your own choice of tree upon it: that right is reserved to the city and they choose species and spacing and undertake the planting. You must rake its leaves, however; in fact, you must maintain the strip in a neat and comely fashion, or the city inspectors may fine you for neglect (as they can for neglect of your property). In general, you cannot exploit your frontage strip in a private manner; you cannot create a zen garden on it, or open up a car park. As for the sidewalk in front of your property, don't get me started. It must be shoveled clear of snow within hours of snowfall, and kept generally clean and safe for pedestrian traffic. Dog poop? Your problem. James