http://woolfandwilde.com/2009/07/the-day-judy-garland-outed-me/ When someone shows you who they are, believe them. -- Maya Angelou Sat, 12 May 2012 20:45:56 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 http://woolfandwilde.com/2009/07/the-day-judy-garland-outed-me/comment-page-1/#comment-1756 Zvonimir Thu, 24 Sep 2009 05:29:28 +0000 http://woolfandwilde.com/?p=4046#comment-1756 hi ken, love the story. as everything, in eastern europe it is usually a bit different and less subtle. i was outed by my sister who caught me having sex with a guy at my parents house. but we had the same reaction - my face flushed and my ears got red - so, i can relate to your experience :))) hi ken, love the story.
as everything, in eastern europe it is usually a bit different and less subtle.
i was outed by my sister who caught me having sex with a guy at my parents house. but we had the same reaction – my face flushed and my ears got red – so, i can relate to your experience ))

]]> http://woolfandwilde.com/2009/07/the-day-judy-garland-outed-me/comment-page-1/#comment-318 Donald Wed, 01 Jul 2009 21:17:32 +0000 http://woolfandwilde.com/?p=4046#comment-318 Ken, I'm all smiles. Thank you! A slightly different story of mine from 1958. It was nearing New Year's at the Grand Hotel in Calcutta where we were visiting my father whose business kept him in India most of my childhood. Picture the grand dining room, an entertainer, live music, and the song "Volare". Oh, oh! Did I LOVE that song and that SINGER! I would sneak down from the room in my pj's to sit in my mother's or father's laps for a few minutes as they sipped their cocktails, smoked their strong cigarettes and giggled with their tablemates. And the vocalist was a dream. I was rewarded with a short visit, then sent lovingly back to the room. On a subsequent day, I overheard the men commenting on the singer and use the word "homosexual". Perking up my 8-year-old ears, I asked my mother what a "homosexual" was. Without uttering a word, she whisked me aside into a corner of the lobby screened by some potted palms to discuss this question with me. I have no memory of what she said, but the graceful significance she gave to the moment, the opportunity to bond with me in the depths of this question, which she could not, of course, really answer effectively to an 8-year-old...her swift attention told it all. Unfortunately, she died when I was 12, and it certainly wasn't rosy with the remaining males in my family after that. But that moment is riveting...and whenever I hear a few bars of Volare, I am drawn into that secluded corner and its secret conversation. Have you read "Call Me by My Name" by Andre Aciman? Recommended for summer reading. Much love, Donald Ken, I’m all smiles. Thank you!
A slightly different story of mine from 1958. It was nearing New Year’s at the Grand Hotel in Calcutta where we were visiting my father whose business kept him in India most of my childhood. Picture the grand dining room, an entertainer, live music, and the song “Volare”. Oh, oh! Did I LOVE that song and that SINGER! I would sneak down from the room in my pj’s to sit in my mother’s or father’s laps for a few minutes as they sipped their cocktails, smoked their strong cigarettes and giggled with their tablemates. And the vocalist was a dream. I was rewarded with a short visit, then sent lovingly back to the room.
On a subsequent day, I overheard the men commenting on the singer and use the word “homosexual”. Perking up my 8-year-old ears, I asked my mother what a “homosexual” was. Without uttering a word, she whisked me aside into a corner of the lobby screened by some potted palms to discuss this question with me.
I have no memory of what she said, but the graceful significance she gave to the moment, the opportunity to bond with me in the depths of this question, which she could not, of course, really answer effectively to an 8-year-old…her swift attention told it all. Unfortunately, she died when I was 12, and it certainly wasn’t rosy with the remaining males in my family after that. But that moment is riveting…and whenever I hear a few bars of Volare, I am drawn into that secluded corner and its secret conversation.
Have you read “Call Me by My Name” by Andre Aciman? Recommended for summer reading. Much love, Donald

]]> http://woolfandwilde.com/2009/07/the-day-judy-garland-outed-me/comment-page-1/#comment-317 Jared Wed, 01 Jul 2009 15:25:51 +0000 http://woolfandwilde.com/?p=4046#comment-317 This was quite high-larious. I think my father must have given me the same look when I, by the age of 7 had the entire Funny Girl soundtrack memorized. Running around singing "Sadie, Sadie, married lady" must have set off some red flags, or rather, some rainbow flags. :) Can't wait to read more wee articles by you. This was quite high-larious. I think my father must have given me the same look when I, by the age of 7 had the entire Funny Girl soundtrack memorized. Running around singing “Sadie, Sadie, married lady” must have set off some red flags, or rather, some rainbow flags. Can’t wait to read more wee articles by you.

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