Looking back on my father’s life, he seemed to be very accepting of everyone’s personal life. In this age where gay is everywhere, back in the 50s and 60s my parents seemed to have a lot of friends who had close personal living arrangements with someone of the same-sex. And these were long relationships, as well. And they were certainly longer than the short marriages some of my friends parents had had.
And, as I have mentioned previously, my father was a psychotherapist and had many patients in the closeted gay community in Houston.
I am also fairly sure that my father led a bisexual lifestyle when he was in college and medical school. My godfathers were his roommates at University and med school, and both were definitely of the Cole Porter school of life. My father had very broad intellectual and musical interests that seemed to embrace many people around him. That he enjoyed sex was an unstated given in our household. Well, stated at least once, right before my father’s prostatectomy. Some things you don’t want to hear your mother talk about, especially her fears about her husband’s “enjoyment” of life, my fathers manhood! No!!! (Although it is good to hear he took particularly good enjoyment in his sexual life! It gives me hope!! :-))
And my life was heading off in that direction, too. I was a happy, though closeted, bisexual in an age when just being gay could be a capital offense. But I liked girls and I liked boys. Each had unique facets that made play quite enjoyable in those wonderfully stray and delightful moments when privacy removed all pretense.
I am fairly certain my father had figured this out, as well. He seemed very good at offering advice, but often in terms that could be taken several ways. Advice that could be very useful coming from a knowing father to a possibly gay son, useful in dealing with the world and its many pitfalls.
It was the mid 70s. I was reading the novel Aaron Burr by Gore Vidal. My father noticed my choice of reading material and a curious look crossed his face. My father launched into the topic of lifestyle choices. It seems that he wasn’t a fan of Gore Vidal and his particular brand of in your face bisexuality he carried off in the 50s and 60s. No, sir, Mr. Vidal wasn’t exactly shy, particularly when he had been drinking. He seemed to be particularly good at annoying street conservative types at high society parties. Scandalous!
My father proceeded to slam Mr. Vidal and his public lifestyle as being indecent and unseemly. My father’s opinion seemed to be that one’s predilections and who they were sleeping with was strictly a private affair and not worthy of discussion in public. And his opinion covered both straight and homosexual lifestyles. He may have enjoyed sex with his wife, but he certainly wasn’t going to talk about it!
Then, by way of comparison, he brought up Leonard Bernstein. Both of us were very fond of him, a man worthy of emulation. Between my father and myself, I think we had much of Mr. Bernstein had recorded. I’d also spent many years listening to conversations about music and the people who made it at intermissions of the symphony and other social gatherings in Houston.
The scuttlebutt on Leonard Bernstein was that he preferred the company of men but was adequately bearded in that he was decently married with children, so he’s covered socially. Meanwhile, he enjoyed the company of other intellectuals and musicians, maintaining a closed personal lifestyle out of his residence above the concert hall. Reporters, unless a part of the inner circle, were never welcome. What happened there, stayed there
According to my father, When Mr. Bernstein was asked about his sexuality or anything concerning his private life Bernstein always deflected the question. He would state that the question was inappropriate, ill-informed or came from someone with no real right to deserve an answer. Bernstein kept his private life private and kept it strictly separated from his public life. This, my father seemed to indicate, was the more appropriate lifestyle.
My father attitude appeared to be that it didn’t really matter how you lived your life, as long as you did it ethically and in such a way as to not bring too much calumny upon yourself. If there was no discernible reason to talk about private matters in public, one didn’t. Remember,, being out was and still is a risky business in America. Many people are a bit bigoted and life is a lot easier and more fun when you didn’t rub your differences in their faces. And they aren’t about to change their minds no matter how you discuss it with them. Sometimes I think the best we will ever do as humans is to live and let live.
I must confess that I have taken the Bernstein approach to life. But sometimes, when I am at a party, the Vidal side starts to sneak out. I understand both points of view but I prefer a quieter approach to life. and I do think my father for helping me achieve it.