Journey to Destiny: A Love Story

By Edwin C Briggs

Journey To Destiny is the love story of two men, whose relationship spanned forty four years. As life partners, they shared an expedition of discovery; travel, financial success and failure, hardship, illness, tragedy, happiness, indiscretions and infidelities, but most of all, love. Respected for who they were, rather than what they were, their challenges were faced without prejudice or malice. Although Journey To Destiny is in many aspects an insight into the gay lifestyle, more importantly, it dissects the humor, adventure, heartache, devotion and commitment sustained during five decades. With unrelenting candor, the book is an intimate portrait into the reality of bi-polar disorder, Alzheimers Disease, cancer, heart and lung disease; endured amidst happiness and heartbreak.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 10, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452055985

Edwin C Briggs

Edwin C Briggs is a first-time author who grew up on a dairy farm in rural New York State. After obtaining a degree in Advertising Art and Design from the State University of New York, he soon realized he had made the wrong career choice. Eventually becoming one of the most esteemed members of the direct mail fundraising community, he helped raise millions of dollars for various non-profit organizations until his retirement to become the full-time caregiver to life partner.

Book preview

Acknowledgement

It would have been impossible to write this story without the gift of sharing our memories and confiding with each other. At the beginning of our relationship, we talked honestly and openly about everything in our pasts. Our childhoods and youth especially were a major portion of this wonderful art of conversation. We each expressed and shared our joys, anguish and frustrations, learning so much about our upbringings that they became an integral part of our entire lives together. It seems like we were constantly talking; we talked in the evenings, walking to and from work, weekends cleaning the apartment and driving to visit our families. Those visits would spark new memories, giving us more insight into our formative years. In retrospect, conversation is perhaps the greatest asset for two committed individuals, allowing them to share their love and life forever.

Table of Contents

Book One

Book Two

Book Three

Book Four

Book Five

Book Six

Book Seven

Book Eight

Book Nine

Book Ten

Book Eleven

Book Twelve

Book Thirteen

Book Fourteen

Book Fifteen

Book Sixteen

Book Seventeen

Book Seventeen

Book Eighteen

Book Nineteen

Book Twenty

Book Twenty One

Book of Equilibrium

Book of Equilibrium

Epitaphios Logos

Dominus Vobiscum

Epilogue

KYRIE, ELEISON

In Memoriam

Deep in December, it’s nice to remember,

although you know the snow will follow.

Deep in December, it’s nice to remember,

without a hurt the heart is hollow.

Deep in December, it’s nice to remember,

the fire of September that made us mellow.

Deep in December, our hearts should remember

and follow, follow, follow.

From the musical ‘The Fantasticks’

Book One

Preface

There were times we were rich. There were times we were poor; times of great struggle and times of great extravagance; times of great sadness and times of great happiness. There were times of great anguish, anger, pain, confusion, suffering and conflict. There were times of immense elation and phenomenal times of joy, but there was never a time when we experienced monotony.

Chapter One

We came from two very different backgrounds. David was from an upper middle class family in New Hampshire. A direct descendent of John and Pricilla Alden, he was raised in the atmosphere of most New Englanders, rarely expressing their emotions and always hesitant to show love and affection, although it was always there. His Mother had experienced many mental problems while he was growing up, and was briefly hospitalized many times in his early youth. His Father would insist that he go visit his Mother during her confinements and it left an indelible impression on David, particularly when she had just been given a shock treatment.

From his earliest memory, David was never hesitant to express his feelings, good or bad, to anyone and everyone. If he didn’t like what they were wearing, what they were saying or whatever, he would tell them. He also had a temper and a sarcastic quickness of expression that could be unsettling and hurtful. He always considered this an attribute in his personality, developing an attitude of ‘I don’t care what anybody thinks, I will do and say what I wish.’ David always felt that he should be truthful and honest, no matter the risks or consequences and he never changed, even when he reached adulthood. It was fascinating to listen to him tell about getting angry with his sister Carole and chasing her with a hatchet. He said he wouldn’t have actually struck her if he had caught her, but it made him feel better knowing he was scaring her so much. As a result of a tantrum about his Mother, he took her engagement ring from a dish on her dresser and buried it in the ground outside the Granite Lake cottage. When his Mother realized it was missing a couple of days later, David pleaded innocence and it was then assumed that she had somehow lost it in the sink or out shopping. After a while, he was beginning to feel guilty, but couldn’t remember exactly where he had buried the ring. It still hasn’t been located and he never informed his mother and father what he had done.

Although David would relate to me how awful his childhood was, he would bring up various pleasant times, his mother’s cooking, the hats she wore to church every Sunday, and camping with his Father. He loved living in Keene during school months and spending summers at their summer cottage on Granite Lake. His Father eventually purchased or erected several other cottages on the property, and would rent them out for various periods of time. The variety of tenants and their families, many with children, provided him with playmates and he relished in swimming and canoeing with new found friends. His Father also owned what they referred to as ‘the camp‘, a remote one-room building on a brook, in southern Maine. There was no electricity and the water came from an outside pump, but David and Carole, enjoyed the weekends of fishing and roughing it in the wilderness. Unfortunately, the reality of his mother’s illness was quite evident, giving him an undercurrent of fear and confusion, no matter how good a time he seemed to be enjoying

David’s Father was an adventurer and an outdoorsman who loved to hunt and fish. He would take David in his old pickup truck and they would drive all over northern New England and southern Canada, staying in cabins or erecting a tent along the way. Childhood photographs show him, smiling, laughing and holding up various sized fish that he had just caught. His Father was determined to provide him with pleasures to help relieve the agony of seeing his Mother battling her many demons. His Mother would come home, supposedly cured, for months at a time, but eventually would have to be re-committed for further treatment. This was so difficult for David, because when she was home, cooking, cleaning and taking care of the family, he felt a great sense of security. His sister Carole was three years older and, somehow, was able to accept and adjust to their mother’s illness, but it haunted David for years.

As David entered his teenage years, his parents thought it would be best, in view of his mother’s unstable mental condition, for him to attend a private boarding school to complete his formal education. Cushing Academy, a renowned co-educational prep school in Massachusetts, exposed David to a completely new world. He was immersed in a structure of discipline, etiquette, manners being exposed to other students from different societies, religions, ethnic background and wealth. He thrived on his new relationships and developed an even more astute taste for the better things in life. Cushing held classes on Saturday mornings, so weekends at home were rare, and on some holidays, instead of going to see his parents, he went to the homes of various new friends.

It was not as though he had been sheltered from adventure, travel and culture; his Father was determined to show David and Carole areas outside New England. He became a pilot and purchased his own airplane, giving them the opportunity to fly into New York City, Florida and Cuba, and many other places. At an early age he attended Broadway plays, dined in some of the finest restaurants and stayed in well-known hotels. In actuality, it was his Father who probably gave him his best and most well-rounded education, but it was Cushing Academy that David gave most of the credit.

On one trip to Cuba, David and his Father landed in Naples, Florida for refueling, spending some time exploring this small town and its location on the Gulf of Mexico. A stop at an open house was all David’s father needed, quickly purchasing a completely furnished three bedroom house, on a double lot, three blocks from the beach. As a general contractor, his Father didn’t work in the harsh New Hampshire winters, so he and his Mother (although she always hated the place) spent from Thanksgiving to Easter in the Florida house. David was anxious and delighted to share this apparent wealth with his classmates, and on the one Christmas vacation he spent there, he even sent them all coconuts he had collected.

At Cushing, David realized that his sexual orientation was not what was expected of a young teenager. A few making out sessions with a couple of the girls at school left him unmoved and unexcited. One night, he was awakened by his roommate, who was fondling him. Although at first shocked, he was enjoying the experience, eagerly reciprocating. This was amazing to him and he only struggled with his emotions for a few days before realizing that this was what he really wanted. After that one night, his roommate never mentioned the episode and although unspoken, David could see the remorse his roommate was feeling and he respected his wishes. There were a few incidents with some of his fellow classmen after that, but, while David knew that this was something he desired, the others considered it a guilt-ridden experience, not to be repeated.

David was aware that attending Cushing was turning him into somewhat of a conceited snob, but that did not really bother him. This was the atmosphere in which he was gaining more than just book knowledge, but an outgoing personality, as well as popularity. His parents were concerned at the change in his attitude, worrying if they had made a mistake by sending him to Cushing. During his last school year, an open house was scheduled and all parents were invited to attend. David was full of anticipation, happy that his Father had just purchased a brand new Cadillac, his Mother was doing well, and asking his Father to make sure she would be wearing her finest outfit, hat and gloves, as well as her mink stole. He had always given the impression to his classmates that his background was as elegant and comfortable as theirs. To his horror, when his parents showed up, in a deliberate effort to bring David back to reality, they arrived in his Father’s old beat up truck. His Mother not wearing her stole, dressed in what to David looked like a housedress. He was mortified, but he had learned a valuable lesson, never deny your background, no matter how much you feel you have obtained a completely different identity.

After graduating from Cushing, David went to Naples for a few months, and was unable to get a job because it was summer and Naples became almost a ghost town. At his Father’s urging to do something with his life, he decided he would join the Coast Guard. He enlisted and was sent to Cape May, New Jersey for basic training. During his physical exam, the doctors discovered that he had an extreme lack of hearing in one ear and he was promptly honorably discharged! He used to joke that technically he was a veteran because it took four days to be discharged. The Coast Guard gave him travel expenses back to Florida and let him keep his government issued pea coat. He didn’t really want to go back to Naples, even though it was now the winter season and he could probably get a job in one of the hotels. Instead, he headed for New York City, ignoring his Father’s advice and fears about the dangers of a huge city. He enrolled in the Parsons School of Design and to offset the tuition, managed to secure a part time job in the garment center with a women’s apparel purchasing firm.

David really enjoyed this strange and exciting industry, deciding not to return to Parsons for the second semester. His temperament was a perfect match with the people he had to deal with and he was soon promoted to assistant buyer. There was a weekly show on television at that time called The King Family Singers. On a promotional visit to New York City, their agent suggested they improve their appearance, set up a meeting with David’s firm. The owner of the firm became ill the day of the King’s appointment, and instructed David to take her place. The King Sisters took an immediate liking to him, loving his ideas of how they should dress on the program. For the next three years, he enjoyed suggesting and providing their outfits, not only for television, but for their personal attire. He was no longer the assistant, but given the responsibility of a buyer. Most days were spent visiting showrooms and studios of current reining designers in the fashion world.

Among his many perks were tickets to all the latest Broadway musicals, luncheons, dinners, and invitations to parties hosted by the various manufacturers on Seventh Avenue. Meeting with designer such as Bill Blass, Lily Pulitzer, and so many others made him realize that in actuality most were just ordinary people. Although a few of them would sometimes be aloof or abrupt, it was part of their personality and he learned to use his natural charm to break down the barrier on many occasions. Not being Jewish was never a hindrance for David and the lessons learned from his Father and at Cushing quickly made him a favorite in the rag trade in the world‘s most exciting city. Just barely out of his teens, he felt he was proving that he didn‘t need a college education to succeed advancing quickly in an industry foreign to most people.

Learning of David’s fathers concern about him living in New York City, one of the regular summer residents at Granite Lake suggested he meet with two young friends of hers, for the purpose of getting apartment together and sharing living expenses. It worked. They found an apartment on the West Side of Manhattan that was affordable, especially with three of them sharing the rent. Because of work schedules, they didn’t see much of each other, and even though they occasionally went grocery shopping for basics, they seldom ate meals together. David enjoyed cooking, but still preferred to spend his money going to the theatre or the movies. On paydays, he would always splurge and go to Horn & Hardart’s Automat, or buy a box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese for his dinner.

The apartment was in a brownstone building located on 78th Street, only two blocks from Central Park, where he discovered that there was a somewhat secluded area called the Brambles. With many trees, shrubs, vegetation and boulders all along the walkways running through the section, it was an active and somewhat dangerous place to meet strangers and have anonymous sex, hidden from view, although the police patrolled the area frequently. The added excitement of being apprehended only added to his hurried and clandestine assignations.

Living and working in New York City gave David the opportunity to pursue his sexual desires to the utmost. He was young, cute and emitted a certain aura that made him desirable to a wide variety of men. When he wasn’t going to a movie or the theatre, he would spend the majority of his free evenings on the prowl, usually in Central Park, seldom failing to quickly have an encounter with a stranger in the shadows. It was only on rare occasions that he would go back to someone’s apartment for a more intimate environment. He had no reservations or restraint when it came to experimenting with various positions, secure in the fact that for the most part, there weren’t any he didn’t enjoy. He was promiscuous and unafraid, with no hesitations, regularly fulfilling his desires and urges with ease and pleasure, sporadically at the onset, but soon enthusiastic, indulging himself, enjoying several diverse contacts on the same evening.

Chapter Two

I was the youngest of seven children, born and raised on the family farm in Deposit, New York. Farming is hard work. Days spent milking the cows, harvesting the hay and corn and shoveling manure were not the exception, they were the norm. Dairy farming does not take a day off, the cattle having to be milked twice a day, and there was always a myriad of chores, however, we did get to relax on Sunday afternoons. My siblings have always said that being ‘the baby‘, I had it easier compared to what and thought they had been expected to do. No matter, I did my duty, secretly knowing that once I graduated from high school, I would be leaving the farm and this small town. I enjoyed drawing, thinking that maybe I could go to college and get an education in commercial art.

My brothers had inadvertently made some of my years in high school difficult. I was always compared to one brother or another who had been a student of the same teacher. They all said that my brothers were so good looking, great dancers, good at sports, and so popular. The comparison made me develop an inferiority complex, which has continued to be a part of my personality. Finally the pressure got to be too much, and one day, I stood up in typing class and told the teacher, I am not my brothers, I am ME, so stop bringing them up so often! That was the only time I was ever sent to the Principal’s office, and Mr. Fox was completely understanding of my frustration. Apparently he then spoke to my various teachers and I was treated with respect for the remainder of my years in high school.

Growing up on the farm, where each of the 75 or so cows was given a name (Maggie, Dot, Ellen, etc.) the one not producing as much milk as expected, would be the one my father selected for slaughter. I found it almost impossible to eat an animal that I had called by name. Reluctantly, Mother bought me couple of pots and pans for my personal use and I would insist that I be allowed to buy my meat from the market in town. I would make myself Spanish rice (with ground meat), spaghetti, pork chops and hamburgers. Side dishes were included once I realized that Mother really was a better baker then a cook. By the time I was in middle school, Father would sometimes tell my mother to let me cook the family meal the next day. He had sampled my efforts over the years and enjoyed most everything I prepared. It was interesting to have to prepare so much food for our large family, but I enjoyed the challenge. On those occasions, I would cook the meal for the family using the regular dishes, but still make my own private meal because I just wasn’t going to consume some pig or cow I had known on a first name basis!

Each summer, during my teens, my Aunt Florence would come upstate to take some college classes in order to maintain her teaching status. She had graduated from what was then known as a Normal School, just a few months of training and one could become a qualified teacher. After several years of teaching in a one-room schoolhouse in the area, in the mid-20’s she was hired by a school in Northport, Long Island to be a third grade teacher. As the educational system became more sophisticated it became imperative that she continue her education and at least earn a Bachelor of Art degree. At the end of each summer semester, I would accompany her back to her Long Island home and was able to spend a couple of weeks with her. When it was time for me to go back home to Deposit, she would go into New York City with me to catch an early evening train. We would leave early in the morning; spend all day sightseeing, visiting the Statue of Liberty, going up to the top of the Empire State Building, or Metropolitan Museum of Art. We somehow usually managed to squeeze in Radio City Music Hall or the Roxy Theatre for their elaborate stage shows between movies too. She enjoyed spoiling me and she really was an amazing woman.

Before my graduation, Aunt Florence generously offered that I live with her; she would absorb all expenses for my education. Obviously my parents did not object, and I applied to and was accepted by the State University of New York, located in Farmingdale, Long Island, close to her home in Northport.

Despite the demands of being a farm boy, I realized that my upbringing by two strict parents, with all those older brothers to torture me, was in fact, a great background, a wonderful asset. I learned the basics of being a good person by growing up in that rural atmosphere in upstate New York, and enjoyed the camaraderie of my classmates, most of whom spent all 12 years of schooling together.

I did leave home for college on my 18th birthday, enrolled in New York State University in Farmingdale, majoring commercial design and art. Mother and Father took me to the train station the morning of my departure and as we were saying our goodbyes, Father said to me, I had always hoped that you would go to a cooking school. Father never interfered with any of his children’s decisions, but I still, to this day, l wonder, what my life would have turned out to be if I had known this earlier. I respected him so much; I probably would have chosen to pursue that instead of art.

Living with Aunt Florence was a wonderful experience for me. She was strict and loving and always so supportive of me and attended any school functions that I participated in. She exposed me to her peers, mostly teachers like herself, and I eagerly absorbed as much as possible from these very educated people… In college I met a mix of fellow students, learning more life lessons, enjoying the freedom from farming. Majoring in art was a far cry from shoveling shit, dreaming of being successful in the advertising world.

After graduating, I ventured into New York City hoping to find employment, utilizing my art education. Through connections of former classmates who had gotten jobs already, I was hired on my first interview by a Madison Avenue advertising agency. It was both exciting and fascinating, to be the ‘paste-up boy’, working on accounts such as Hudson Motors, Procter & Gamble, Pillsbury Foods and Noxzema. Unfortunately or fortunately, I never was able to utilize any of my artistic education because I soon realized that my talents were far inferior to the people I was working for and with.

Determined to further educate myself, I explored I the culture of the city by attending a few Broadway plays, dining in ethnic restaurants, always absorbing as much as possible. I wasn’t making too much of a salary, so it was always the cheap seats at the theatre and never at the fanciest of restaurants. It was also difficult at times because I was still living with Aunt Florence and commuting into New York on the train each day. The train fare was almost half my take home pay, entailing almost a two hour trip each way. Luckily, I managed to meet some other commuters who shared the daily trip. We were all in various types of employment; the only thing we had in common was our youth and enthusiasm. Lasting friendships developed and indeed, I was a member of the wedding party for several of my fellow commuters.

At some point during this period I finally acknowledged to myself what my true sexual inclinations were feeling no guilt whatsoever. Still, it was several months of working in the city before I realized it would be easy to experience the obvious instead of fantasize. In my innocence, I wasn’t quite prepared for what to expect the first few encounters, but quickly learned, becoming comfortable in my own self and desires. Still a virgin at 21, enjoying multitudes of brief nameless encounters, without any commitments, I fulfilled my increasingly strong sexual ambitions

Poor, dear, Aunt Florence was so patient with me when I would say I had to work late and would call her from the train station to let her know what time to pick me up. We developed a code to avoid paying for a phone call, where I would call her collect, through the operator, and ask for myself. Aunt Florence would say I wasn’t there and ask who was calling. Before the operator disconnected us, I always managed to say Tell him I’ll call back at 10:30 (or whatever time the train I would be taking was scheduled to arrive in Northport) She was always there when my train arrived, never complaining or questioning why I had to work late so often. Little did she know that in truth, I was seeking an encounter, sometimes even more than one, before going to Pennsylvania Station.

After two years of commuting, I decided to move into Manhattan, securing a room at a co-educational residence club, which included breakfast and dinner every day except Sundays, when we had access to the kitchen. An ever changing group of never more than 30 individuals from all walks of life and nationalities expanded my horizons immensely. It was a great period of learning and absorbing various cultures and religions. One of the residents who arrived shortly after me was a young man named Ross. We had an attraction to each other, and became close friends and roommates for many years, and, while we did have a sexual relationship, it was never an exclusive situation for either of us. One day he said that he wanted to investigate the Roman Catholic Church and maybe even take catechism lessons. I asked if I could go along with him, as I was fascinated that someone young, single, and of my own sexual persuasion would consider doing this.

I enjoyed the classes and the outcome was that we both were baptized and confirmed at the same time in St Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. It was a period of great introspects and we both made the decision to succumb what was then referred to as ‘a delayed vocation’. We were sent to The Marist Fathers Seminary in Bettendorf, Iowa to study for the priesthood. Despite the best of intentions and commitment, I realized after many months that this was not really what I wanted to peruse left to move back to New York City. Ross wanted to stay and spend the next eight years studying to become a priest. For me, the imposed celibacy required was perhaps the most difficult adjustment to follow, and returning to New York, I looked forward to resumption of my previous lifestyle.

Somehow, I was able to maintain my belief in the Church and reconcile my sexual orientation, although it did take many trips to the confessional. M justification was, and perhaps still is, something the priest who taught the catechism classes had said: ‘If you really don’t think what you are doing is a sin, and then it is not a sin". Without guilt, I perused my sexual desires. I also volunteered while at the same time, was volunteering to be a server at the early Mass in St. Catherine’s church on an almost daily basis.

I left the advertising industry long before going to study for the priesthood, and when I returned, I had an inordinate number of jobs, one of which I worked for a fabric manufacturing company in their showroom. The best part of that job was getting to meet various celebrities (who came in with their decorators) including former Miss America, Bess Myerson, and Greta Garbo. Miss Garbo came in frequently without her decorator even though the showroom was not open to the general public. Whenever she arrived, the entire staff had been instructed to ignore her, respecting her desire to be left alone.

I then worked for a furniture manufacturer in their design offices, located in what was then the Newsweek Building at Madison Avenue and 50st Street, directly across from St. Patrick’s Cathedral. We were on the 18th floor and my office window view was of the spire of the Cathedral. I will never forget a day in November when I returned from lunch and a client called and told me to turn on a radio, President Kennedy has been shot. Stunned, I hung up the phone and yelled to a woman in the bullpen who I knew had a radio on her desk to turn it on immediately. Everyone in the office stopped working as we gathered around the radio and listened to the reports that President Kennedy had been shot, in the hospital, no further information forthcoming. At almost the same moment that Walter Cronkite announced, The President of the United States is dead, the bells at St Patrick are started to toll. The sun disappeared behind clouds and everyone in the office was in a state of shock and crying. We were told the office was closing and I left and went into St Patrick’s to pray for him, and was amazed that all the store windows in Sak’s Fifth Avenue were covered except the corner one, which had a photograph of President Kennedy along with a huge bouquet of red roses. I have never understood how they could set the tribute up so quickly.

After going to Ft Lauderdale on vacation, I thought I would like to move there, it was so different and exciting. Being able to go to the beach all year round was appealing, plus there were many others of my sexual persuasion. I resigned my job with the furniture firm, and moved to Florida. However, after a few months, I realized that visiting and living in a place are not the same, so once again I returned to New York City and quickly found employment with a major tobacco company.

The company supplied tobacco products to prison inmates. My job was to submit bids for submission to various prisons all over the country for our products to be supplied to the inmates. In the process, I was able to test all the newest brands, even the competitors, developing an addiction to nicotine along the way. Again, I was exposed to new associates and enjoyed living on my own, perusing my ambitions and sexual desires. New York City in the early and mid-sixties was a very exciting time!

I was content in my sexuality and enjoyed the freedom of a multitude of pursuits and conquests. Although a few of them that became frequent or repeat involvements wanted me to settle down and commit myself to them exclusively, variety proved to be far too gratifying to even consider such a situation. I wanted to continue with my selfish, and, to me, extremely satisfying sexual explorations, and positive that since variety was the spice of life, my best happiness would be to taste all available flavors.

Chapter Three

Who can possibly understand or explain why situations happen in the way they do? I lived in a small studio apartment on East 29th Street, just off 3rd Avenue. In those days, 3rd Avenue was known as a major cruising area for easy sexual contacts between men. David, as it turns out, lived only one block away from me, but in our pursuits, somehow we had never run into each other. In later years, David always hated it when I would be truthful with anyone who asked how we had met. He would just say, In New York City, without elaboration. Depending on who asked, I would usually say, We were two whores who passed in the night on a street in New York City! Not that we were really whores, because we weren’t out for financial gain, just for sexual encounters, frequent and impersonal. ‘Whoring around’ can have two distinct meanings.

Then, one wonderful evening in mid-September, I was feeling raunchy and ventured out to explore the possibilities that might be available in the neighborhood. Rounding the corner, I could see someone in the distance who looked attractive, so I quickly took off my glasses (those were the days before contact lenses, and the adage boys don’t make passes at boys who wear glasses was never out of my mind) as we approached each other. Once he got closer I thought to myself, don’t pursue this, this kid must still be in high school, because he looked to be about fifteen or sixteen years old. We took a glance at each other as we passed and I continued walking a short distance. I stopped to look in a store window and turned to see if he was looking back; the usual method of picking up someone on the street. To my surprise, he was not only looking back, but had crossed over 3rd Avenue and was slowly walking down to the other side of 29th Street. I slowly (quickly!) followed, and saw that he was leaning up against the railing of a building directly across from St. Stephens Roman Catholic Church. Stopping and leaning next to him, the normal exchange of ‘Nice night‘; ‘my name’s Ed’: ‘Hi, I’m David‘; ‘Where do you live?’; ‘Just up the street‘; ‘Would you like to come up?’; ‘Sure’; ensued. Despite my initial reservations about his age, I was happy that he wanted to go home with me but still; I couldn’t resist asking him his age, surprised when he answered twenty five.

Without going into details, while enjoyable, our sexual encounter was not reciprocated by David, but there was something about him that seemed different, a vulnerability and sadness. I asked if he would like something to drink and we sat and talked about our jobs, movies we had seen and what interests we had. While we talked, I became aware that he had a gold signet ring on his left hand ring finger. I put my hand up and showed him that I had the same exact ring. Both were engraved with our initials, in the same typeface. I told him that I had gotten mine at a little obscure jewelry store on Sixth Avenue, just north of 42nd Street. The engraving took a couple of days and I had just picked it up on my birthday, September 8th. David said he was amazed, because that was probably the same store where he had purchased his ring, but he hadn’t been able to pick it up until the day before. He said that when he went in to order his ring, the jeweler had remarked that this was the second time in a few days that a customer wanted the same ring, and usually he sold maybe three in an entire year. David looked at my ring, then his, and said, I ordered my ring on September 8th, we must have been in the store same day. We talked about the coincidence for a few minutes, and then started to get amorous with each other, but suddenly, abruptly, David said he had to leave, and I felt totally rejected. I didn’t understand, especially when he asked for my phone number, both home and office as he was leaving.

After David left, I wondered why he wasn’t attracted to me sexually, and assumed that probably I would not ever hear from him again. This made me quite sad, because something just seemed to be unique about him, a person I would like to know. Almost immediately the phone rang and it was David, saying he was sorry our contact had been so one-sided, but he would desperately like to see me again.

Can we get together tomorrow night? he asked.

Great, I replied, why don’t you come over about 8 o’clock? Oh gosh, I wondered, what the hell is going on here?

David called me at the office the next day and said he was just wanted to make sure we would be seeing each other that night and also, he was very anxious to see me again. In anticipation, I could barely concentrate on work the rest of the day, looking forward to getting together with him, anticipating a more reciprocal coupling this time.

When he walked into my apartment, I was almost speechless. David was just so very cute, dirty blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, slim, youthful, emitting sexuality. I barely had time to greet him when he embraced me and we were immediately engaged in a sexual encounter, but once again, without reciprocation. I was perplexed, confused, at a loss to understand his reluctance to respond to my desires. David then became very upset, obviously aware of my frustration and disappointment, trying unsuccessfully trying to hold back tears.

He said, I must explain something to you, something I have been struggling to overcome, something that I have never told anyone, but I think you deserve to know why I did not return your affections

David related to me that just a week and a half before we met, he had gone home with an older man who he had seen in neighborhood several times but to his dismay, they had never made contact. The man was in his early 30’s and extremely handsome; tall, dark haired, and rugged, the type that David was usually attracted to immediately. Once inside the guy’s apartment however, he realized that there were five other men there and he became a frightened and nervous and turned to leave.

As he bolted towards the door, one of the men grabbed him from behind and held him, while the others pulled off all his clothes. They threw him, naked, onto the floor, and held him, against his will, so that he could not get away. They then took turns, one after the other, and he was forced to orally satisfy each man, and was raped and sodomized repeatedly by all 6 of them for a period of several hours. During the assaults, the men would indicate how great it was to have sex with a little boy even though he tried to tell him he was no kid. The more he begged them to release him, the more they seemed to desire him and would repeat their acts again. David was terrified, becoming aware that in addition to his extreme physical pain, he was bleeding from his rectum, yet the ruthless assault persisted. His mouth and jaw were numb from the oral satisfaction he was being forced to give them. His throat burned from the brutal, unrelenting entry, causing him to gag and choke. David was positive that he was going to die.

When they finally released him, one of them said not to bother going to the police, because three of them were policemen and no one would believe him if he tried to report them. Despite his pain, his defiance and anger got the best of him, and David felt that he had to let them know that he had his doubts, that they were just trying to scare him by saying they were policeman. One of them said, ‘Okay, you little faggot, we’ll show you how serious we are!’ Struggling, they dragged him into the bedroom, pulled down his jeans and one of them grabbed his night stick, and without any lubrication, rammed it into David’s rectum. They covered his mouth to stifle his screams, and continued to pull the club in and out, enjoying their sadistic behavior. After what seemed like several minutes, they stopped and again showed him their badges before allowing him to leave. He did not even bother to pull up his jeans; he left the apartment and terrified, ran all the way home. He was afraid to go to the hospital, and tried to clean up and finally collapsed on his bed, exhausted, bleeding and in immense pain.

David phoned into work sick for the next several days while he tried to mend himself from the trauma, mentally and physically and emotionally. When he had met me on the street the night before, it was the first time he had gone out since the assault. He felt he needed to venture out once again and release the desire of his sexual emotions and hopefully erase the memory of that awful attack. Going home with me might be his cure, and by being selfish and not participating, he could prove to himself that he was in control. Even though he had done exactly what he had wanted, he was filled with remorse and felt that he needed to see me again, not only for sex, but possibly explain why he had acted the way he had. He needed someone to confide in. David was confused and upset and felt there was something happening between us that he could not understand, a feeling that was strange and new to him.

David was sitting on the sofa next to me, holding my hand as he re-lived the awful experience over and over. He cried and cried and looked so absolutely helpless; I only wanted to somehow take away his pain. I spent the next several hours just holding him, consoling him, cradling him and trying to subdue his sobs and giving him whatever comfort I could. It was now obvious why he had not returned my sexual affections, and I told him that it didn’t matter, I would wait as long as it took, days, weeks or whatever, and because I just knew there was something special taking hold of my emotions. I thought to myself that maybe I was falling in love with him, but that didn‘t make sense, we had only known each other one day. David spent the entire night with me, talking, crying, and emotionally attempting to adjust to the assault where he had been the victim. When he left early the next morning, we agreed we would meet for lunch and get together again that evening.

The rape had actually occurred on September 8th, my birthday; a date that would become a significant part of our lives for the rest of our lives.

David and I met for lunch that same day, and afterwards, I wasn’t feeling well, and asked if he would come back to my office with me. I felt I should go and see the company nurse. When we approached my desk, I felt immense pain in my abdomen and must have passed out. When I became conscious, I was in an ambulance, with the nurse and David beside me. I was taken to French Polyclinic Hospital and they started to run tests in an effort to ascertain the reason I had passed out and what was causing so much pain. David never left my side, and as I was being taken away for X-rays, he leaned in close to me.

He whispered, I love you, Ed.

I replied, I love you too, David.

It has been said that there is no such thing as instantly falling in love; there is so such sting as love at first sight. David and I had disproved the statement.

Interlude

Particular, unexpected, and extraordinary moments in our lives are inevitable; they cannot be, they must not be, avoided or evaded. We grapple to understand what consequences would have occurred under different circumstances. Was it a coincidence that David and I were on Third Avenue, at the corner of Twenty-ninth Street and Third Avenue at the exact same moment? No! It was not a coincidence. I am positive that David and I were inevitably positioned there in order to facilitate our predetermined future. Our predetermined excursion, our predetermined journey, our journey to destiny, inevitably, and without question, was unavoidable.

Chapter Four

Hesitantly, the doctors informed me that there was some sort of internal problem they could not diagnose, so I was admitted into the hospital. Days of tests followed until they finally determined that I had a major hernia that needed surgery, but an infection had developed. It would necessary to wait before performing the operation. David was always there with me and I asked why he wasn‘t at work. David advised me that on the day after I came into the hospital, he had called his company and resigned so he could be with me. He promised he would stay with me for as long as I wanted or needed, because he had fallen in love with me. I was in physical pain, yet at the same time that I was overjoyed.

David called my family and let them know that I was in the hospital, telling them he was a close friend of mine. My Mother insisted on coming down to see me, and she would let David know what time the bus would arrive. I described her to him, a little tiny woman, who would probably be talking to all the other passengers on the bus as she was getting off. He recognized her immediately, and went up to her to introduce himself.

Mother took one look at him and said, Oh, you are so pretty! Thank you for taking care of my baby.

She embraced him, saying, David, you are my seventh son

After the operation, I had to stay in the hospital another two weeks, and the afternoon I was released David took me back to my apartment in a taxi. I lived in a brownstone, only 5 stories high, but amazingly, there was a small elevator. As we started to get off the elevator on my floor, the lights started to dim and then complete darkness. He managed to find the door and get me inside and we realized that there were lights anywhere. The entire city was in darkness, a major black-out that lasted for almost ten hours. By candlelight, we talked and I realized that during the last 3 weeks and 2 days, David had been with me every single day. He never left.

When I was finally on the road to recovery and healing, we were able to convey our affection for each other, sexually, spiritually, tenderly and without hesitation. Our promiscuous days were over, and we reveled in our passion and feelings, grateful that we had unexpectedly found each other, .We had no inhabitations with other, discovering and sharing and delighting in what can only be described as factual, overwhelming love.

I was able to return to work after about six weeks, and David began looking for a new job, understanding that he could not return to the garment industry because of his quitting without notice. Even with no previous experience, he soon secured employment at Mitsui Shipping Company and we moved out of my little studio apartment into a one bedroom apartment in the Gramercy Park area, where we resided for the next six years.

We had a great apartment, good steady jobs and it seemed as though life could not get any better. Amazingly, David bought his clothes in the boy’s department at Lord and Taylor, since he only had a 26 inch waist. He jokingly said that I should be arrested for underage seduction! He was twenty five years old and looked about fifteen, and I was an old man of twenty eight who looked twenty one. David exuded an aura of sexual readiness which attracted a variety of attention, making him quite aware of his desirability. He also had a very healthy, amazing, and sometimes exhausting capacity for sexual fulfillment, being able to reach gratification several times in a short period of time. At the onset, we settled into a loose routine of having sex, sometimes hurried, sometimes slow and passionate, before going to the office, before dinner and at bedtime. We explored our wants and desires completely, indulging with zealous eagerness and learning those actions that were the most satisfying for each of us. It was a period of rapturous sexual excitement, something bizarre for both us who had remained unencumbered for so many years, suddenly content, happy and domesticated.

David’s knowledge and love of the theatre was infectious, we attended Broadway plays and musicals as often as possible, even on our limited budget. Long before meeting David, an older woman and her husband who befriended me when we worked together took a position with the Metropolitan Opera Guild. She would often call me at the last moment and say that there were spare tickets to various Operas if I wanted to attend. I usually accepted the offer and soon learned to enjoy and appreciate most of this sometimes strange but unique form of entertainment. David and I now complimented each other, with me introducing him to Opera and David enlightening me about Broadway. We eventually saw most of the leading stars at the Old Metropolitan Opera House, as well as the newest musicals and performers on the Great White Way. Jerry Orbach, Barbara Cook, Birgette Nielson, Richard Tucker and so many other artists of the day enlightened us and gave us a sophistication and appreciation for culture we had not previously known.

We drove to New Hampshire several weekends and I met his parents, Jake (Jessica) and Dick and then his sister Carole came up from Naples, Florida with her children for a visit. David had seen Julie and Christopher on a couple of occasions but it the first time he met Craig. They were wonderful, attractive and fun children who enjoyed being around their Grandparents and the casual life at Granite Lake that David and Carole had experienced in their childhood. On one visit Carole needed to drive to the airport in Boston to pick up her husband, Dick, who was coming for a long weekend. Craig sat on my lap in the back seat most of the way to and from the airport, and we realized that David and I have known Craig for exactly the same length of time. From the beginning, Julie, Chris and Craig always referred to us as Uncle David and Uncle Ed. Actually, I was called Uncle Mr. Potato Head, for whatever reason?

Unfortunately, I had to undergo another hernia operation that summer, but this time it was not as serious. Distressingly, the surgeon had positioned a binder backwards around my abdominal area, so I turned black and blue from my waist to my knees. A disgusting sight; especially when an infection developed in the incision, however, I was released from the hospital with instructions. It would be necessary to soak in a bathtub filled with hot water and Epson salts. David was so unbelievable, reaching into the tub and squeezing both sides of the infected area to release puss and blood! I really do believe that his attention and concern was responsible for my speedy recovery. However, I wasn’t allowed to drive, so David became the chauffer, allowing us to go to Granite Lake and Deposit.

Our visits upstate to Deposit were enlightening for David, learning about farm life and the hard work and effort entailed. My brothers were all dairy farmers with the exception of Berkley, who had become a veterinarian. We were touched that from the very first day, when my mother told David he was her son, my entire family welcomed him as a son, a brother and an uncle. On each visit, they were as happy to see David as they were to see me.

We shared so much fun and pleasure together, we went to museums (usually short visits, since there was too much to appreciate all once) explored the city on foot, venturing into sections where we had rarely if ever been before. Morningside Heights, Harlem, Grant’s Tomb, ethnic sections, such as Chinatown, Yorkville, Little Italy, and the Jewish area on the Lower East Side allowed us an opportunity to sample new foods and understand different cultures. We went to Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Friday night services at Central Synagogue and Marble Collegiate to hear Dr. Norman Vincent Peale. The biggest choice of movie theatres was in the Broadway area and we utilized them on many weekends, usually stopping into Macy’s to look around on the way home.

We were always trying to do something different in the apartment, a new lamp, bedspread, decorative pieces, but especially the color of the walls. We went through so many phases, yellow and green, pale blue, ivory, gray and pure white. I think we tried them all. Once, after seeing a really dumb movie with Phyllis Diller and Bob Hope, we were so impressed with the color scheme in their house, we stopped on the way home and bought gallons of a dark blue paint. It took the entire following day to paint the living room, adding pure white paint to the baseboards, in an effort to recreate the décor in the movie. Not surprisingly the dark walls seemed to shrink the size of the room and we soon switched to another color, having to use twice the paint to cover over the dark blue.

In those days we were each earning about $125 a week before taxes, our rent was $190 a month and we actually managed to live on a grocery budget of $12 per week. I was very creative with meals, and I loved to cook, creatively transforming hot dogs stuffed with cheese, tuna noodle casserole and pounded cube steak into what seemed like gourmet food. Strangely, in our weekly budget, we always included a package of chocolate pinwheel cookies! Thank goodness for dear Marion, who would occasionally take us to dinner. Intermittently, I would be included in a client luncheon and David had become the favorite of Mitsui’s executives and was frequently invited to business lunches or dinners, giving us a welcome break from our frugal meals. Our conversations were endless, enlightening, amusing and informative.

There were times when we challenged each other over who won an academy award in a certain year, or what city is the capital of what state. We played Clue, Sorry, Authors and Monopoly together and reveled in our frequent intimacy. The one subject that was never broached was the rape that David had endured, and self-consciously or consciously, we invariably planned a diversion for my birthday; we would go to the theatre, a movie, out for dinner or get-to-gather with friends, and celebrate with a birthday cake. Our unspoken ploy continued for years, eventually succeeding in erasing the memory from our cognizant existence.

Interlude

David’s sister suggested that I write a book on the topic of David’s and my travels over the years, in view of the fact that most of the family had no conception of the frequency or duration of our extensive trips. When I casually mentioned this to several other people, they concurred, it was a brilliant idea and they would be enthused to gain knowledge of not just the various destinations, but the experiences we encountered

For several weeks, I pondered the likelihood of possibly being able to convey in writing the events of our many adventures. To make any sense, it would be imperative to illustrate some correlation with our everyday existence, otherwise it would just become an issue of National Geographic or Traveler Magazines. My resolution was to not just write a ledger of our geographic travels, the book would also be a ledger of our voyage through a lifetime together

The endeavor to exemplify and communicate this chronicle by means of honest straightforwardness, necessitates the inclusion of uncensored truths, posing the risk of alienating or offending family and friends. I have elected not to exclude details our of intimate sexual relationship, our transgressions, our indiscretions, our temptations, our disagreements, our arguments, our failures, our successes, our infidelities, our stupidities, our remorsefulness, but utmost, our unconditional love for each other, which survived all obstacles..

David and I experienced a phenomenal expedition of existence. To partake of our journey, it is imperative to employ the wisdom of a completely open mind. Utilizing this stipulation, welcome aboard; but fasten your seatbelts, there will be turbulence

Chapter Five

In the Spring of our third year together, the old New England, conservative attitude began to set in, and David became terrified that anyone in his family would think that he was involved with another man on a sexual or caring basis.

It would kill my parents if they found out I was queer, he said, we cannot stay together any longer; we have to break up and go our separate ways, even though I love you with all my heart!

This bombshell had come out nowhere, and I was totally flabbergasted, since we never were obvious about our relationship. If people thought anything about it, it didn’t make any difference, they accepted us for who we were, not what we were.

All I could reply was, Let’s not do anything drastic, let’s just continue on for the present, I’m sure everything will be alright. I continued, But how would they ever find out? How do you think it could be revealed to them?

Pleading, I said, David, for some reason you have become paranoid about this remote possibility, please, there is no valid reason for us to go our separate ways, and I love you too much to let you leave over this remote possibility.

David relented, and we moved forward, both of us trying to ignore his fears, even though I recognized it still existed in the back of his mind. As much as we talked about anything and everything, we habitually evaded discussing this potential ‘problem‘, although when it did arise, I was somehow able to eliminate his fear and anxiety.

Vacation time was nearing, and we decided to drive to Naples and spend two weeks, visiting Carole and Dick and their children. While there, we had also planned an inexpensive trip to Nassau in the Bahamas for three days, an all-inclusive package deal, which we arranged through Eastern Airlines on time payments. Everything was included, meals, sightseeing, flights, hotel, and as I recall, the cost was about $75 each. Wow!

Our trip to Nassau was our first visit to a foreign country (not discounting David’s visits to Cuba and Canada with his father as a teenager) together and instilled in us the desire to go to new and exciting places in the future. I hated flying and was terrified, even though the flight was only a half hour long. The plane carried about fifty passengers and it seemed like we were just skimming the tops of the waves. Once we arrived in Nassau, I was soaking wet from sweating out of fear.

The hotel picked us up at the airport and brought us back to check in. It was a comfortable hotel, across the street from the ocean, but we did have a view of the beautiful water. After walking around downtown we returned to hotel and changed for dinner, which was included, but a set menu, which was actually quite extensive. David however decided he wanted a steak, and it was an additional $20, almost a third of what the entire trip cost! I was kind of pleased when he said it was an awful piece of meat. We retired to our room and David pulled back the covers and yelled, There’s a black pubic hair on the pillow! I think the maid had a nap here!

I was hysterical with laughter at the thought of it, and he finally agreed that it was indeed amusing.

The following day we were given a sight-seeing tour of Nassau, and that was the first time that deja-vu hit me. At a couple of stops, I just knew that I had been there before, even though I hadn’t. Of course David thought I was crazy, but he learned to get used to in many different places as the years went on. We stopped at another hotel for a drink, and the cocktail lounge/bar was downstairs, with a view behind the bar into the swimming pool. It was entertaining to watch people swimming,