Remembering Brad: On the Loss of a Son to AIDS (6 page)

School started today. It’s going to be a great last year, I think. My classes are good. They’re all going to be interesting and fun. It sure is nice to be back home again and going to dear old Poky [Pocatello High School].

OCTOBER 25, 1976: My journal—sometimes I use it as my dumping ground, placing in it all the hateful, mean feelings inside me. I throw them away here. But other times it becomes my trusted friend. My one and only true listener. To it I bring my feelings of elation, of joy, emotions so full I am not able to carry them alone anymore.

APRIL 7, 1977 [after an extended description of the sights and sounds and smells of a spring evening]: I hear the breeze rustle far away, and then it comes nearer and nearer through the grass like a sleek animal, until I feel it pass across my face and tousle my hair. I can hear the cats playing in the grass above me. The bells around their necks tinkle as they cavort, as they carry out their mock attacks on each other. The evening star has just come out. I’ll have to make a wish. I wish that my children will be able sometime in their lives to enjoy and love an evening as pleasant as this one is for me.

* * *

[After high school graduation]

JULY 30, 1977: I am fascinated by my growing up experience. I can see myself mellowing; I can roll with the punches so much easier now than say two years ago. I have found that I can cope with the constant onset of arrows and bombs in forms of school pressure, family, church, and love—and of course the ever-present, never-ceasing sexual drive. Well, about that last one I’m not so sure, but anyway with the others it is not so bad.

Sex is such a puzzling, intriguing thing. I don’t quite know how to deal with it yet. The church says one thing, my drives say another. It’s certainly not an easy thing to figure out, and it certainly isn’t logical! I mean, I know all the physical aspects of it, technical names, etc., but it’s the emotional part that’s so hard to come to terms with.

Sex is always surrounding me, or rather my peers and me. On the one hand we are told that it is taboo, while on the other we hear “Go for it!” in our music, our dress, in our own bodies. I suppose I sound more lost and floundering than I really am. But one can become confused.

Sometimes I get so lonely. I feel so thirsty for love. I want so badly for someone to take me in their arms and hold me. I don’t mean parents’ love or brothers’ or friends’, but that deeper, more meaningful love that makes one more of a whole person. But it couldn’t be just anyone. It would have to be someone whom I love very much, and they would have to feel the same for me. I couldn’t compromise in a relationship like that. That’s why none of my short loves have been very long. I’d always realize they weren’t quite what I was looking for in a girl that got to have the privilege of being mine, ha ha. But—sometime I’ll find her.

Yea!! College starts in a month. I can’t wait! At last I think I’ll be in my element. High school wasn’t it! Not for me. I’m going to take lots of liberal arts—French, history, philosophy, writing, literature. Also swimming and fencing.

* * *

[At Idaho State University]

SEPTEMBER 11, 1977 [after writing about his first impressions of college life at Idaho State University, while still living at home]: The church has really been closing in on me lately. Sometimes I feel as though I’m drowning. I look at the Mormons around me; they seem content, prosperous, and happy people, but they frighten me. They’re sponges, soaking up whatever they’re told without giving thought to what’s been said. And I hear the Bishop telling me not to reason things out, that the church must be accepted on faith. I don’t know what faith is, at least in that sense. How funny. A thing that is supposed to bring joy (the church) has brought more turmoil and unhappiness into my life than anything I can think of…. The Mormon girls that I see at school are all the same. Granted there are the good looking ones and the sweet-spirited ones, but its the sponge part of them that gets me. And then there are the non-Mormon girls. I like Barbara. We have more in common in our likes and interests than any girl I’ve ever met before but—nope, I can’t really get serious with her, even though I’ve thought about it.

How can I explain this? None of them is deeply appealing to me. None of them! I feel little or no attraction to any of them, no matter how they’re built. Jake and the other guys fall all over themselves in their panting. I think that their bark is a lot fiercer than their bite, but at least they do feel something. Mom said something like, “Well, I would suppose that you’re normal and are attracted to girls?” Hmmmm—Well you see, Mom, ever since I can remember from the time I was little I’ve been attracted to guys. Hmmmm—Actually I fell all over myself to convince her of my “normality.” I don’t know…. How does one deal with that kind of touchy subject?

I remember around the fifth and sixth grade when Roger, Ken Martin, and I would sneak a look at the
Playboy
magazines at the super market. I knew that I was supposed to get excited and all turned on but—nothing. There was a naked woman with big boobs. So what. But I’d fake it. “Oh wow! Boy! Look at that!” I don’t despise girls or hate them or dislike to touch them. The ones I know well are like my sisters. I’ve never kissed one on the mouth—one doesn’t usually do that with sisters.

I’ve dated quite a lot. Some dates I enjoyed; others I could have done without. I’ve been attracted to some girls almost strongly, but never for long. Once in a while I feel a twinge in the loins as one walks by, but it quickly leaves. Am I gay? Perhaps. I’ve lived with this attraction to the masculine body, have wrestled with it, cried about it, and at times almost accepted it for so long that I’m not sure what to think. At one time when I found out what homosexuality was and that the church and “God” thought it was awful, I hoped it was only a passing phase. It’s taking a long time to pass. The guilt I have felt in not being able to suppress such desires has given me some conception of what hell is sure to be like. It’s not good for a twelve-year-old kid to have to carry that around on his shoulders. My parents have wondered what always made me so unhappy. How sad that I couldn’t tell them. I’ve had this all bottled up now for eight years or so. It’s not been a party.

OCTOBER 9, 1977: Since the last entry I’ve done a lot of thinking. Homosexuality is a subject that is difficult to say “okay” about and accept it flatly. It doesn’t seem natural! I mean the idea of two men living together or just spurning women because of it. I can’t believe that God intended that. There isn’t anything wrong with two men having a deep affection for each other and being able to have some physical closeness between them, but there is a definite limit. I don’t want homosexuality to be a part of my life. I have had urges of that kind for as long as I can remember, but it’s something that I’m dealing with as well as I can. I don’t understand where, at which point, it becomes evil, and how and where homosexual drives come into the plan, but still I don’t want it. It’s a sterile kind of relationship. One can’t have offspring. It depends on looks and good body, etc., and so when one is old and flabby, that’s it. Nobody wants you. How sad that kind of life would be. And most relationships of that kind don’t last as long as a marriage would—I guess those that want it can have it. I still find the masculine body appealing though and feel good about that. I think that is pretty natural.

My parents and I had a long talk about sex and homosexuality a few weeks ago. Mom noticed my tripping up that time when we were talking about my “normality.” She thought she had offended me, so she called me into their bedroom and we started to talk. I said I wasn’t offended, but I didn’t go into detail about what I wrote in my last entry either. Anyway, we had a long, open, good talk. I was surprised we could talk about such a touchy subject so easily.

Woody Allen said two things about sex that I remember: 1) “Masturbation is sex with a person I love.” 2) “Bisexuality automatically increases your chances for a date on Saturday night.” Maybe these are racy things to write in a journal, but I find them amusing and true. The things I write here are parts of me. I don’t like the business of only writing the acceptable parts and hiding the rest. I suppose this preoccupation with sex, this obsession I could say, will cool down eventually, but in the meantime it’s here.

OCTOBER 10, 1977 [after visiting a friend at Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho]: I realized just how much Michelle means to me. I’m not in love with her. I had my times with that a few years ago, but that’s long past. I think it’s mutual. She’s the dearest friend I have had. We relate with each other wonderfully. She is one of the most intelligent, thoughtful, devout and really good people I have met. If I could have had a sister I would have wanted her to be like Michelle. I hope my children will be able to meet her some time.

NOVEMBER 27, 1977 [remembering his recent birthday]: Also on that day I was ordained an elder [in the lay priesthood] by my father. At the time I couldn’t say that the occasion was special to me, only because I—it wasn’t very meaningful to me. It was a moment I had dreaded for a very long while. I feared I would be found unworthy, that the sky would fall. Also, I was not all that sure that I wanted the responsibility I felt the calling would bring. But it’s over now and that brought some peace. Later I did feel good about it and proud of what had occurred.

JULY 8, 1978: The other day it rained during the afternoon. It was marvelous. The smell after it rains mixed with wet grass and sagebrush must be the most fragrant perfume in the world. I wish that I could capture it and give it to someone I love. If only there were someone.

JULY 27, 1978: I think I am in love. Oh, brother! Talk about falling for the girl next door! Barbara is looking so good it makes me hurt. I’ve gotten so I love to watch her. She’s done her hair in a new permanent and is very attractive. There are many things about her (besides her body) that I like. We have so much in common and know each other so well. But I don’t want to be infatuated with her. The whole situation is impossible. She was hinting tonight that I should take her out, but I don’t know what kind of come-on that was: romantic or just another I’m-bored-so-let’s-go-out come-on? I
do not
understand girls or women at all. I’m so naive about such relationships. I guess I’m pretty shy. In some ways I like a girl to be rather (only slightly) forward, and then I have some idea of how she feels about me. I don’t trust myself to interpret subtle hints. I’m afraid I’ll read them the way I want to read instead of the way intended. I know—I’m a fool.

JULY 31, 1978: Marriage is something that thoroughly frightens me. The prospect of having to be so dedicated and faithful seems impossible when I enjoy my freedom so much. Yet at times the thought of marriage is appealing. I see [Uncle] Ron and [Aunt] Adonna with their children in their noisy house and my heart warms. Other times the idea of three or four or even one crying brat chills me through. I love babies with all my soul until they cry. But I think the possibilities of teaching a child about the beauty in nature and the incredible wealth in himself would be a wonderful thing. An immense responsibility, but something I would love to do.

Sometimes I wonder how fully I should deal with my feelings concerning sex in my journal. I question what effect it could have upon someone who might read it later. Sex isn’t something I’m ashamed of. I need to treat it objectively, but I do want to record how I am being affected by it.

Perhaps the main thing I’m thinking of is homosexuality. I have written only tersely on this subject in the past, and yet it has greatly influenced my life. It is something I have been dealing with in various ways for a number of years, truly for as long as I can recall. I have so many unanswered questions regarding it and heterosexual relationships.

I don’t know how to cope with a desire that cannot be purged just by an act of will or because society or especially the church declares it immoral and disgusting. How easy for them to say so. I remember even as a small child watching the college frat guys who lived across from us at Riverside Park. They were always sunbathing, and I remember often wanting to go and watch them. The thought suddenly hits me: “My gosh! What are you writing this down for. This mustn’t ever be known!!” But sometimes I feel as if I cannot hold it inside any longer. I must let it out.

The relationship which I long for eludes me. I don’t like the idea of promiscuity, of one-night stands. Sometimes I wonder if I really know what I do want. I can’t say for a surety that I am gay. I guess I fall into the bisexual category, for I find the female body very appealing and beautiful, but the other seems predominant. It must be very hard for anyone who is straight to relate to these thoughts. I can understand that. There are times when I really wonder what Christ would say about this whole matter.

I am looking for something in this elusive relationship. What? A father figure? The relationships I ought to have with my brothers? I doubt it is either of those. But I feel that without it I am not yet whole. It is not possible to explain fully.

I don’t like femmy guys. I myself am not femmy. I resent that stereotype and feel that it is gradually breaking down as this subject comes more into the open. I love my own masculinity. Masculinity encompasses so much more than just what is between my legs. I don’t mean being macho or jockish, those pathetic attempts of some guys to prove they are men.

I wish I could meet a girl who enjoyed her femininity and being a woman as much as I enjoy being a man. This is what I want from a girl. Perhaps that really seems out of context here, but to me it isn’t. Let me put it this way. Loving a guy who’s relaxed about himself as a male, and loving a girl who feels that way about herself as a woman would be somewhat alike. Or does that stretch it a bit too much? Perhaps I’ve lost my clear train of thought–or maybe I never had it.

I could never be a gay all my life, as I think I wrote earlier. I do want to marry and raise a family. No other way could be fulfilling to me in the long run. This is confusing to me because I say to myself, “What do you expect then? A casual or even intense relationship with another guy in the next few years? Do you realize the responsibilities that entails? Do you truly want that? What about the effect on your later life?” So many questions. So many doubts. I’m rambling now. I’m not coming to any solid conclusions.