My mother and father were separated close to the time I was born. I don't believe my father saw me when I was born. On one occasion my mother reported to my sister and I that our father claimed that his wife and children of his previous marriage were dead.
My mother was without a husband. I was a male child. My mother had seductive mannerisms, walked in the nude, and looked upon me for emotional support. I can't believe that the these combined parental characteristics caused me to be homosexual. That would cause me to wonder why My Father in Heaven would bring me into such an environment which would overwhelm me as a little child.
Environment, heredity, emotional traumas, a host of factors could play an important role in influencing homosexual behavior but then it would seem that these things could also influence heterosexual behavior. I know that from an early age I felt no conscious attraction to the opposite sex. If this home were a breeding ground for homosexuals I realize God knew this information and sent me there for whatever purposes he had in mind.
There is a long list of close relatives who were gay or lesbian. My father's brother's son was gay and died of aids. My
great Uncle on my father's side was gay. There were rumors of others in the near circle of relatives. Whether genetic, environmental, or just good fortune, I am gay.
I do remember a happy home, one in which my mother, my sister and I would sit in the living room and read. I sat over the furnace register, a metal grill work on the floor. I would usually sit there so long that the checkerboard pattern would imprint itself on my legs. The light from the floor lamp would shine softly on the childrens book I was reading. Mother and sister were reading quietly. Then Mom would go to the kitchen and fix dinner for us.
Another happy time I remember was at the kitchen table. Mom rolling cookie dough so I could press out stars, half moons, and gingerbread men. These would be cooked in the large white electric range nearby.
In May 1948 I was dressed in a little tweed jacket, shorts and buster brown shoes to attend the wedding of my mother to my stepfather, Edward. He would be my new father for the next seven years.
There was a great deal of violence in the home after they were married. Perhaps this was due to the effect of pancreatic cancer which eventually ended the life of my stepfather. He died when I was 11 years old. I remember my 6th grade teacher telling my classmates to be understanding toward me as I had lost two fathers.
As a young boy (ten or eleven) I had a space that was all my own, where I could close the door and not be disturbed. The space was in the basement of our bungalow in Kenmore, New York. It was termed the fruit cellar because mother's canned goods were there on shelves.
Near my make-shift desk of old dining room table leaves and saw horses I found a can of silver paint. I proceeded to paint a sign on the fruit cellar door so I could see my educated future in silver letters: Dr. Earl Donald Attridge.
Many hours of creative construction were spent in that little room assembling various things I thought were important to my childhood and life at that time. Two examples are a small model boat to sail in Lake Erie and a Tom Sawyer type river raft I sailed on Johnson's Creek near Lake Ontario.
One of my young neighborhood friends Johnny and I became intimate companions there later in adolescence. I sensed then that I was different yet I wasn't completely alone.
I spent many hours of enjoyment at a Methodist summer camp, Camp Asbury where I learned a love of nature and a closeness to God. It was there I met another boy, Salem and acted out a form of sexual intimacy with him in our cabin late at night when all others were asleep.
In 1960 while a senior in English class at Kenmore West Senior High School I was given a choice of a topic for my term paper. I chose The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints as my topic. I don't believe I had ever met a Mormon. If I did meet any, it was the missionaries who went door to door. I know I met the missionaries from the Jehovah's Witnesses. I was attracted to spiritual discussion.
When I began my research the very first thing I noted was a picture of the Salt Lake City Temple. The building was the color of soot due to the burning of coal for fuel in Salt Lake City. Even then I imagined ethereal hallways and large gothic rooms filled with angelic looking persons reading and studying the great truths of the universe.
I was very attracted to that building. I felt that I would someday go inside that building. After further study I learned that only members in good standing were allowed into the Temple.
I did well with my term paper. I don't believe I received the mark that I expected, since my teacher was a hard grader.
I did go to the senior prom in June 1961 with a nice girl I met at camp. I double dated with a couple in my English class. Later we all spent time at a summer property my mother owned. I was more interested in the boy that we double dated with than any of the girls.
That fall I became a student at Geneseo State University of New York. I met Richard. He was very intelligent, spoke French, smoked Turkish cigarettes and was unashamed of being gay. In 1961 there were few places for homosexuals to go, so we went out into the woods on a snowy winter evening during a winter thaw, put our coats down on the snow, took off our clothes, and experienced each other romantically and sexually. It was my first romantic encounter with another man.
One of the professors at the college was a very well known gay. I approached him with a myriad of questions. I really pressured him into having a sexual experience with me. He was to tell me that homosexuality would never be accepted. That was in 1964. There was no recruiting me to be a homosexual. I knew I was and I went to any length possible to understand myself.
My first year in college had its ups and downs. I was a flamboyant show-off, a cross between Red Skelton and Lucille Ball. This made me well known. I was elected by the student body of my class to the Board of Managers. I was also scrutinized by a fraternity of which I wanted to be member. They felt I was too gay so I was black balled.
Sometime during my freshman year, Mormon missionaries were teaching people in my dorm. I was the only one to show up for the lesson. I found the information very interesting. They asked me to attend church with them the following Sunday. I was unable to attend because they did not come to give me a ride to church. Apparently there was a suicide in the mission that week..
Several years later I experienced one of the great traumas of my life, the assassination of
President John Fitzgerald Kennedy. My close friend Prudence Jean Moody and I went to
Washington D.C. on a personal pilgrimage and walked past his flag-draped casket. I respected
President Kennedy, as I have all Presidents because of the enormous responsibility of their
position. They are also like father images to me. So I felt the loss as a citizen but also as a son.