After the few days in NY, I spent a few days in Chicago while waiting for my connection flight back to San Francisco. I stayed with Tom and it was the first time in Chicago since my move back to the Bay Area. I’d forgotten the things about Chicago that made living there bearable. The trip was all about memories. There was brunch with Karen (the world’s best waitress) at the Salt – and- Pepper Diner in Wriggleyville, a trip through the new Modern Wing of the Art Institute, dinner at Adobo Grill in River North and drinks at Sidetrack, all while dealing with cold and snow. Tom was a fantastic host and as soon as I find the perfect “thank you”, I’ll be sending him a little package.

Some pictures of the trip…

Dad's Toys

Don't tell Tom... but...

from Joe My God.

Really?!?

That’s the best you can do?

At least when I have a discriminatory thought I acknowledge it out as my own weakness. I don’t hide behind some ancient text. I tend to speak ill of Asian drivers, should I blame my intolerance on the DMV driver’s laws? “I hate their driving, not them.”

How is that any different?

As such, all this religious based intolerance has made me angry and intolerant of religions and their people. I am disgusted that these people have so much control over the dialog in this country, so much control over politics and community. Religions have just as much right to exist as I do, they are entitled to their beliefs and ceremonies. However, they are NOT entitled to dictate my existence. They are not entitled to hateful rhetoric and fostering animosity towards others that do not believe as they do.

The founding fathers were very clear in their belief that religions are dangerous to freedom. They would not have dictated the separation of church and state otherwise. They would not have stipulated this in our very first foreign treaty. (Treaty of Tripoli)

Art. 11. As the Government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion,—as it has in itself no character of enmity against the laws, religion, or tranquility, of Mussulmen,—and as the said States never entered into any war or act of hostility against any Mahometan nation, it is declared by the parties that no pretext arising from religious opinions shall ever produce an interruption of the harmony existing between the two countries.

I would love to see a president, senator or congressperson eschew religion, come out as an atheist, and proudly denounce the religious based intolerance and control over this country.

In that vein I was given a bit of hope when I stumbled over this website this morning. An insider’s view of the damage done by religion. And a very heartfelt apology for the hatred and intolerance. I wish I could send her a big thank you. The apology is a great first step towards recovery. I think they call it making amends in AA.

As a target of religious based intolerance and violence, thank you for your apology!

I found a recipe online that sounded delicious and figured i’d give it a go. Came our pretty well. Though… I did start a small fire in the oven when I broiled the parchment paper.

Then… as a reward, I’m going to spend some time in Chicago with my good friend Tom. I miss hanging out with Tom and I hope we spend some time doing all the things we used to do when I lived there. I can already taste the tots.

written by: Dr. Frank Lipman

With that in mind, I recently applied for the newly opened sales manager position. This was the first time in my career that I applied for a new position within the same company. Every other time I’ve been restless in a job, I looked for change outside of the company.

It took a lot to convince myself that I was both qualified and ready for the promotion and once I was sure, I submitted myself for it. A few days later, I was contacted for an interview. My regional manager flew out and interviewed 6 people. I think I realized that it was time to grow up and be the adult and do the job I’m being paid to do. The very process of self-exploration and risk may have jumpstarted me because I’ve found a new sense of purpose and drive. I’ve pushed myself to give it another go and be more successful in my efforts… and it seems to have paid off.

I didn’t get the position. It went to my colleague Sam, who is much more qualified and deserving of the it than I. Sam has been with the company for 14 years and has been sort of a mentor to me since I’ve joined the company. It was disappointing that I didn’t get the job, and I’m sad about it, but I’m also excited about Sam’s leadership potential and the potential he has to improve upon things within the sales structure of the company.

But I tried. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and I interviewed and I reached inside. The process scared me but I’m glad I went through it.

WORLD AIDS DAY –

In 1993, I met a man named Jeff Struckman in a closet of a sex club in San Francisco called Mike’s Night Gallery. Jeff was beautiful (in my eyes) and the sex we enjoyed that night and many nights to follow were sweaty, passion-filled workouts. I knew there would never be anything more than what we were currently embarked on, so I did my best to enjoy him while he was still paying me attention.
This was the age of AIDS, ACT-UP, and Queer Nation. The predominate style of the gays in San Francisco was the typical uniform of a black leather motorcycle jacket (covered in paint, stickers, and various items), a white t-shirt, jean shorts completed with the mid-calf high Doc Marten boots with white socks.
Jeff, was an artist. He painted sets and backdrops for the opera and various theater groups in the city. One night, there was an art show of local artists to benefit the city’s AIDS charities. It was called “Blinds for AIDS”, and each artist had painted a roman blind to be put up for sale. This was the first time I saw any of Jeff’s work and I was thrilled that he invited me. It was this night that would plant the seed of an idea that I carry with me to this day.
Jeff’s version of the above mentioned uniform included a hand-painted leather jacket unlike anything I’d ever seen. He used a subtle pallet of colors and placed highly stylized cave-painting-like dinosaurs at various places on it. I got the idea that night to ask Jeff to paint my jacket and he agreed.
For some reason that to this day I cannot say, I chose the image of Natasha Fatale to grace the back panel of my jacket. About a week later, Jeff brought me a painting that was the study for my panel. It was a simple Natasha, in her signature purple dress holding, in one hand, a martini, and in the other, a lit cartoon styled bomb. Perfect for me in so many ways.
A few weeks later, I had my painted jacket adorned with the above describes Natasha, but in addition, there were stacks of TNT and drums of poison around her feet filling in some of the dead space in the panel. I wore the jacket with pride for many years.
A short while later, my affections for Jeff spiked to the point that I had fallen in love with him. It was at this point, he told me not to love him because he wasn’t long for this world. He was dying of AIDS and would soon disappear. I had always known that he had the disease and we always were safe, but this devastated me in a way I never allowed myself to admit. This was the first time (of many), the disease hit me directly.
True to his word, shortly after that night, Jeff disappeared from public life. I never heard about his death, but I saw his obituary in the gay papers.
A year or two later, when I had decided to get my first tattoo, I chose Jeff’s original design. It wasn’t until many years later that I even realized exactly why. I still wonder if it was me saying goodbye to Jeff, or to my innocence. I’ve come to think warmly of this gentle, passionate and mysterious man as I grow older, and I love to share the story of how he affected my life.
Today, the original study and the back panel of my jacket hang, framed, in my living room while the ink on my body stares up at me from my right calf.