Today I took a trip to East Hampton with my Aunt Elaine. You know, not matter how much you like all your relatives, sometimes you just have a favorite. That's just the way it is. As Aunts go, she's a favorite. She pays attention, she speaks her mind, and she's always there for you. She's there for everyone, actually; a good successor to my Grandmother, except she's much more modern. Aunt Elaine's 75 years old, but you wouldn't know it. Aunt Elaine drove in to New York to see my brother's 11 pm gig at a bar. Aunt Elaine takes an aerobics class every Monday. Aunt Elaine goes on the Internet at the Queens Borough Public Library to find villa rentals in Tuscany and a 1997 Toyota Camry.
Aunt Elaine can do anything. She's unstoppable.
Anyway, en route to East Hampton, we were talking about some of my friends, and she asked me what happened to that friend of mine who went to FIT, the one who made me that scarf that doubles as a curtain pull, what with the satin tassels at each end.
Well, I explained that B went on to become the star of his own cable access show. B is now the one, the only, the possibly future celebrity Brini Maxwell, who gives a lot of household hints, star's recipes (like Janet Leigh's meatloaf and Dina Merrill's strawberry pancakes), dressmaking lessons, and hostessing tip. B is a a dead ringer for Dina Merrill or Lee Remick when he's Brini.
Now there are two things that are remarkable about all this. First, that I quite efficiently and successfully got over my internalized dragophobia a long time ago. B was largely responsible for that, although he, and she, don't necessarily know that. Ten years ago today, I was living with Knucklehead in Woodhaven, Queens, but still not out to my parents, family or co-workers. I had already told my brother, though. The thought, back then, of talking with my parents or Aunt or anyone other than my friends about being gay, was impossible. Much less talking blithely of the success of my friends drag queen Martha Stewart show on Manhattan Neighborhood Networks.
The other thing that's remarkable is that my Aunt did not react with curiosity, shock, or surprise about all this. She was very curious about the economics of it all. Of course, so am I. I don't know how Brini does it, but she does it and puts her whole heart into it.
Brini, you see, is very devoted to her career. Earlier this summer I asked B how far he had gotten in the Imperial Court, and I think he had been a Countess at some point. "But now, I'm a star! Being a star is better than being Empress!" Now B knows a few of those Empresses very well, and I am acquainted with one of the meaner ones. I don't know if they would agree.
So here I am telling my aunt a lot of this, very matter-of-fact, and it doesn't occur to me until later that with a lot of my other, older relations, I might not have felt as comfortable. And it's not as if I have had lots and lots of gay-related conversations with my Aunt Elaine. Mind you, my aunt and uncle in Seattle organized the PFLAG national convention a few years ago, as I have a lesbian cousin out in California. So Aunt Elaine probably gets more gay news from them than she does from me. My aunt in Seattle is pretty active. She's so active that when a lesbian friend of theirs spotted her in a gay bookstore, she said to my aunt, "Frankie, I didn't know you were a dyke!"
So perhaps they've paved the way for me and these comfortable conversations. But I think it's something else, and it has nothing to do with watching the news. It's all about being what we Jews call being a Mensch. And I actually feel like an adult when I talk to her. I am not suddenly transported back to Great Neck North Senior High School and the invisibility of being gay, being young, and being different. That's a pretty good feeling.
When we came back from walking around town, it was dark. The meteor showers called the Leonides were supposed to be active. This is the time of the year that the Earth is in their part of the universe. They even threaten to possible disturb those satellites of ours, so vital in thwarting Saddam Hussein, whom the US was hoping to attack tonight.
Well, within a moment of just looking up, I saw a streak of light, a yellow-green that suddenly exploded into a ball of light. The streak of light continues but in a much-diminished form. At first I thought it was so close it could be a helicopter. Then I realized it must be a meteor hitting the atmosphere. Of course there's alway that X Files hope that it's that UFO we all hope to spot. The last time that happened, I was at Queens College. That eerie floating light over Flushing Meadows Stadium was the Fuji blimp.
But then I realized it was probably just what I thought it was: a shooting star. When you see it out in the country, in the dark, with all those stars up there, it's extraordinary. Especially when you see it alone. It's like being given private access to a Broadway show.
Of course, I already know what it's like to have a private audience with a star. I also had a great relationship with Grandma, and I had wonderful private special relationship with my departed aunts, Gertie and Ida, and most of all, I have my Aunt Elaine. So I am pretty thankful for that, and I realize how much I'd have missed in life without having some of these quiet, special, comfortable relationships.
I also realize, now, how much is missing for people who don't have these sort of special relationships, or don't think they do. So sometimes you have to look a little harder, and realize that in a place like New York, the stars are up there. You just have to think past the smog and the excess streetlights and know there up there. You also have to look past your own fog and see the stars that are around you down here, too.
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