As a closeted transgender kid, I didn’t do much socializing. I was insular, studious, idealistic, and creative, spending most of my waking hours either with animals or writing stories (by this time, Stoney Burke and Star Trek stories).

 

My closest friends weren’t in my class: Karen Kraft was a year ahead of me and Kathy Kraft a year or more behind me.

 

They and Jackie and I created a small “band” named Kris and the Playgirls (after Gary Lewis and the Playboys, ’cause I was a huge Jerry and Gary Lewis fan at the time — more about that later!) and we “appeared” on the radio singing Gary Lewis songs a time or two during fundraisers or grange events. That was pretty much the extent of my socializing because we lived six miles outside Cle Elum and, as an introverted shy kid, I only went there for school and to shop. The rest of the time we spent at home working on the ranch or hanging with the Kraft kids.

 

But I do remember two attempts at socializing with others. One was a dismal failure; the other was, in my opinion, a wild success.

 

THE FAILURE WAS  A PAJAMA PARTY

 

I don’t recall whose pajama party I was invited to. I want to say it was Launa Spurgeon’s, but it could have been Corean or Becky Scott’s: I simply can’t remember!  All I do remember about it is how boy- and Beatles-crazy everyone was.  (I didn’t become a major Beatles fan until decades after they separated, oddly enough.) I was simply bored out of my gourd. I felt I had nothing in common with these girls.  I couldn’t wait for the night to end so I could get back to MY world, as isolated and esoteric as it was.

 

THE SUCCESS WAS MY “DYE YOUR BLOOD GREEN” PARTY

 

It will come as no surprise to any of you who have read my books, but I was a massive Star Trek fan (the Original Series). I adored Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy and began writing stories about them for extra credit and for Drama and English classes. There were Trek fans in Cle Elum, too, so I had that in common with them.

 

Mom decided I needed to develop as a socializer and suggested that I put out the word and invitations for a “Dye Your Blood Green” Party at our place. That sounded like a whee of a time to me — right up my alley — so I sent out invitations and got a lot of RSVPS saying yes, they would be there.

 

So Mom bought some green dye, rented a pop dispenser, and dyed some 7-UP green and put it into the dispenser.  I appended words to the dispenser along the lines of “For T-Negative Blood Transfusions Only.” My guests were enchanted.  We visited the animals in the corrals while it was still light outside and as nighttime fell, we all came inside for games and grub. After eating, we discussed which games to play.

 

CHARADES

 

Since several of the attendees were fellow thespians (actors, folks, actors!), we decided on charades, and that’s when the real fun began.

 

The one I remember best — and it cracks me up every single time I think of it — is that Dad got into the spirit of the thing (something he rarely did). He decided to have us guess a famous movie. (I won’t tell you what it is yet. That’s part of the fun!)

 

He held up three fingers and offered his audience the MOVIE pantomime.

 

“MOVIE TITLE, THREE WORDS!” several of us guessed in unison.

 

Dad nodded yes!

 

So far, so good!

 

Then he got down on his hands and knees and tried to draw a map.  We had no idea what he was trying to draw, because he had no real idea what the country he was trying to draw was shaped like, really.  So we were trying to make a critter out of his artistic rendering.

 

He shook his head no, and tried another tack.  He extended his arm in front of his face and flailed it around like an insane hose.

 

Someone guessed ELEPHANT!

 

Yes! Dad nodded.

 

“The (blank)  Elephant?” someone guessed.

 

No. Dad shook his head.

 

He kept flailing his “trunk” like a mad rogue elephant, so we kept guessing ELEPHANT.

 

Someone made up a title: “The Elephant King?”  .

 

No!

 

Well, by this time, Dad was getting tired of trunk flailing and gave us a hint. “The title doesn’t include elephant!”

 

WTF?!  Then why did he say YES when Elephant was guessed ???

 

“Oh!”  someone discerned. “AFRICA?”

 

Dad jumped up and yelled, “Yes!”

 

So someone guessed “THE AFRICAN ELEPHANT!”

 

By now we’re all in hysterics and  Dad looks utterly baffled that we are too dense to guess the title.

 

He mimes putting some kind of hat on his head.

 

“Hat!”

 

“Bowler!”

 

Crown!”

 

Yes! Dad shouts and points to the guesser’s head.

 

“The African Crown” someone yells.

 

“The Elephant Crown!” another one yells.

 

Dad scowls…  “C’mon, think. Get serious, now!’

 

We try. Seriously! 

 

We’re all practically in tears now, laughing hysterically because Dad is losing his mind, thinking, “What the fuck is the matter with you kids!”

 

Finally, I FIGURE IT OUT it and I say, “Oh, my God!  It’s THE AFRICAN QUEEN!”

 

Bingo.

 

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.  We were sore from laughing at Dad’s gyrations and responses to our guesses.  It was absolutely hysterical.  I will never forget it.

 

ANOTHER STAR TREK MEMORY from Cle Elum

 

One time I did a comedy sketch where I played Mr. Spock. To make his ears, I fashioned a pair of green pointed ears that connected to the top of my ears. Very quickly the clay became the same temperature as my ears, so I totally forgot I had them on.

 

So, after school, I walked over to Safeway to buy a few food items. As I walked down the food aisles, people kept giving me the oddest looks.  I just couldn’t figure  out what their problem was with me.  I looked for an unbuttoned button and for anything else that would make me stand out, but found nothing on my person worthy of their stares.  Finally shrugging off my discomfort, I paid for the food and drove home.

 

When  I got home I went into the bathroom, looked into the mirror, and spotted the green pointed ears.

 

Dang. How embarrassing …

 

NOBLE THOUGHTS

 

When I was a teenager (as mentioned earlier) I was an unrepentant idealist.  I was a civil rights advocate from the get-go and I constantly entertained noble thoughts about life, progress, and possibilities.

 

But one day while I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth and thinking noble thoughts, it suddenly occurred to me, “No one can hear what I’m thinking. All they hear and know about me for sure is what comes out of my mouth or out of my pen.  Eegads — that’s TERRIBLE!”

 

I realized then and there that what I believed — and essentially WAS — was next to invisible to my family and friends.  My mouth wasn’t doing me any favors.  I was sometimes pouty, sometimes argumentative,  often angry (Dad was an alcoholic and I was transgender; that right there was enough to cause problems!) and I seldom presented myself as the idealistic, compassionate being that I knew myself to be!

 

It was quite the wake up call.

 

ANOTHER WAKE UP CALL

 

As I became a little more confident and less insulated, I started to emulate my favorite comedian, Jerry Lewis.  And as I segued from wallflower to wild and wacky, my favorite teacher, Alpha Rossetti, asked me to stay after class because she wanted to talk to me.

 

I was elated because usually when I was asked by her to stay after class, she would talk to me about what a good writer or student I was, so I was looking forward to some more stroking along those lines.

 

Instead, she told me frankly, without beating around the bush, “I don’t like your new personality.”

 

Her comment hit me like a ton of bricks. Here was my advocate, my favorite teacher EVER, offering me a blunt and painful truth. I was starting to behave like a clown and it wasn’t appreciated one bit by the person I revered most.

 

I dropped Jerry Lewis antics like a hot potato and have been forever grateful ever since that she thought well enough of me to nip the New Kris in the bud before he became a habit.