hunting and fishing

My transition from Junior High to High school was an interesting time.  The feelings I had for other boys was real, and I knew some day I would have to deal with it. But being in a small town was not to the time or the place. I was too immature to be open about it. I don’t think my parents were ready to deal with this just yet either. My dad had always kind of known I was different. He used to make me tag along with He and my brother. I was not the testosterone driven male that they were. He wanted me to be manlier.  

My Dad used to take us hunting and fishing. I loved the outdoors but to me it was an opportunity just to see the animals and play in the water. I remember my dad scolding me for putting my feet in the water and trying to catch the fish with my toes. I was just having fun. Apparently, with my Dad, fun was a problem. We hunted for rabbits and in later years for deer. My Dad would shoot the rabbits and make me retrieve them. I was not scared of them, I just felt sorry for the cute little things. He was also mad when I apologized to the rabbits because their lives had ending in such a tragic way. That was my tender side showing, and Dad did not like it. My Dad taught my brother and I to shoot when we got old enough. I preferred shooting cans; my brother liked shooting God’s creatures.

He used to yell at me saying ”you’re just like your damn mother”. That would always hurt my feelings. I didn’t know whether to apologize for being like my mother, or apologize for not being my brother. Or he would get frustrated and make fun of how I looked. I was chubby, with big ears and big teeth that stuck out with I grinned. I guess it made him feel better, because he was not able to connect or identify with me. I think he wanted to make me cry so I would go sit in the truck. That way he would not have to look at me. I wanted him to like me, hell, I would have settled for acceptance. I am still a little confused about it now. What did he want from me? My brother was a good football player and strong.  He seemed to be “Jesus”. You know Jesus does no wrong.  My mother was smart, friendly, and caring. I didn’t see the problem. It would be many years later, that I realized, it was HIS problem, not mine.

One day my Dad said he was going fishing, but they left without me. He didn’t take me anymore.

In high school, I tried to just be myself. I continued to do the things that came naturally to me. I was very musically inclined. I was very talented in band, drama and art. I placed first in several art contests locally.  I even went on to State level music contests as a soloist. I loved traveling and meeting other band nerds, because they were like me.  The whole time my dad never really said much. He was to busy bragging about my brother. Luckily I had Mom there cheering me on.  I secretly hoped that some day My Dad would open up a bit, but no. I think each man, gay or straight, has to find out who they really are. Morals are a choice and we should all be judged for our character. That includes how we see our kids. I think that when/if I ever have a son, I would take him hunting and fishing. I would teach him what I knew and let him find his own pleasure in it. I can not undo my past, but I don’t have to repeat it either.