Deaken and me at Shambala, 1989

 

I’ve been facing a recent health challenge that presently has no definite conclusion, so I’m in a kind of holding pattern until I find out more. It could be minor, or something more serious.I’m betting on “something minor” and playing on that note because “worry deprives today of its joy” as someone once wisely said.

 

But stuff like this does make me pause, at least  briefly, to consider just how I’ve lived my life and what kind of legacy I might be leaving when I’m shoveled off this mortar coil–or, in my case, cremated, mixed with Deaken’s ashes, and scattered to the four winds.

 

If I had to give my legacy a title, it would be something along the lines of “The Bravest Chickenshit Who Ever Lived”. or “The Blindest Optimist Who Ever Lived.”  Either works!

 

If I sit completely outside myself and objectively look at my life as I would that of another human being I’d have to give myself an A for blind faith/optimism/stubbornness and an F for prudence (“caution or circumspection as to danger or risk”). I must be the luckiest person on the planet. Seriously.

 

Look at this:

 

I never married. (And never wanted to.)

 

I pursued jobs and careers I truly wanted (or thought I wanted!) and did all of them very well.

 

I rarely stayed longer at a job than I wanted to. I left when it no longer “grew” me or made me want to get out of bed to do it every morning.

 

I left my career at Warner Bros. for nine months to serve DeForest and Carolyn Kelley during the toughest times in their life together (while De was dying), knowing that I was giving up seniority, accruing benefits, and everything else I had going because the Kelleys needed me more than I needed my security right then. (When De’s biographer Terry Rioux asked me how I could do that–put my life into a temporary holding pattern–my response was, “How could I not ?” Consequences didn’t even enter my mind. My focus was on what needed to be done to ease their way. I knew I could start again, if need be. No job owns me as much as my friends and family own me–not even my copy writing job!)

 

I stayed true to myself and let others stay true to themselves, even when it hurt like hell! (I can ‘t tell you how badly I want to march into some of my loved ones’ lives right now and say, “You obviously aren’t paying attention to what’s happening in the world that will affect your very own children and grandchildren if things don’t change…and you’re considering voting for the OPPOSITE of what’s needed to protect them!”)

 

I made enemies out of a few friends (very few, thankfully!) by being honest with them and honest with myself in recognizing that friendship isn’t co-dependency or unilateral dependency. Friendship is about loving someone right where they are because we simply can’t help it. Love and friendship aren’t always rational. Friendship is a kind of love that doesn’t judge, expect, or demand; it’s a mutual connection, not an expectation. Friends aren’t clones or  life-long rescuers. Friendship definitely isn’t forged by rescuing another human being. (I did that twice too many times: finally learned my lesson the hard way!) True friendship is supporting and encouraging another to stand tall in their own strength and skin. Friendship is about mutual enjoyment of each other’s company and stalwart support of each other’s goals and growth, even if our paths diverge and go in different directions in some ways.

 

I relinquished my last “secret” just couple years ago: that I was born intersex (no way to know for sure without expensive, extensive testing, as no records of intersex surgical alterations were kept back then) or I’m transgender: a man in a woman’s vehicle. It sucks but has its perks: I understand both genders, one because of nature (male), one because of nurture (female). I’m a Two Spirit Being. (Leave it to Native Americans to pave the way and call people like me something noble and edifying.)

 

Despite my introverted, quiet nature–an introversion and quietness forced on me by parents who didn’t  properly rein in my exuberant spirit, so I learned to feel ashamed of my enthusiasm for life and for being “out there”–during my later adult years (1980 and beyond) I’ve stepped waaaayyyy outside my comfort zone and, in doing so, widened it, which has enabled me to give more than I otherwise could have. It took guts and the conviction that it was necessary for me to do it, so I give myself lots of credit for this accomplishment. Most people who know me today probably have no idea I’m nervous being around most people; even when I get to know them, I never feel entirely safe. As a sad result, I’m sure some consider me anti-social or inscrutable but I’m really an open book. I’ve put my life into the eight books I’ve written. It’s there for all to read. You just won’t get it “from the horse’s mouth” unless you become very close to me and we spend lots of time together. (I don’t chit-chat ever! When I open my mouth, what I say has to matter, or I keep it shut.) Only a few people have taken the time or cared enough to do that… and none of those few still think I walk on water! Thankfully, most of them still love me despite my handicaps, shortcomings and outright clueless-ness when it comes a number of things.

 

I’ve never learned how to keep from breaking someone’s heart when telling them something I think they needed to know about themselves to thrive as the truly amazing people they are. (Lost a dear friend that way twenty years ago, although I was as diplomatic as it was possible to be. Pushing her from the nest she had built in my home was agonizing for both of us. It is my hope that the push showed her that she could both fly and thrive as a newly-fledged eaglet, even though she was seven years older and, as we all know, old habits die hard when dysfunctional childhoods–mistaken “prophecies” over one’s outcome and “worthiness” to breathe the air, intense insecurity, and abject fear–hold the reins.)

 

Looking back, it’s amazing how much of my bucket list I accomplished. In fact, my bucket list is pretty much empty these days!  I  certainly want to write more books, publish the one that’s on my PC right now (tentatively titled “Womb-Man”, it needs a subtitle), and get my DeForest Kelley Up Close and Personal audio book squared away but, other than that, I think I’m pretty well “put to bed.” Whatever legacy I’ll be leaving has already been forged, as far as I can tell.

 

Oh, and I want to vote for Bernie Sanders in November. I really, really want to do that. It will be my proudest vote ever!

 

But if anyone wants to call me brave after all is said and done, I guess I’ll offer my consent right now since tomorrow is never guaranteed to any of us. After all, it did take a kind of “Damn the  torpedoes, full speed ahead!” mindset to get through the kind of life I forged. None of it involved the traditional boilerplate route that far too many human beings signed on for in recent decades (outrageously high student loan debt, unsatisfying, disheartening work, parenthood, accumulation of wealth, retirement plans, etc.) because I’m not traditional and (we’re all in this boat!) I may not even need to worry about outliving my money if things go seriously south for me sometime soon.

 

All I know for sure is that I’ve had one hell of a ride and there is very little of it I would sidestep if I were  given the opportunity to do it all over again. Except–except!–I would definitely have believed in myself a lot sooner and headed in the direction of my dreams a lot sooner. Like Isaac Asimov, I’d have 78 books by now, not just eight!

Believe in yourself, will you? YOU’RE AMAZING!!!