Forbidden Love

As I continue to grieve the loss of the person I have most loved in the world and now will continue to love only in my heart, I think about how far we have come to be accepted by so much of the rest of the world as viable, valuable members of society with the right to love whom we choose.

When I came out in my 20's, during the 1970's, homosexuality was not discussed, not visible, no role models, illegal, etc. As an even younger man, dealing with my feelings for the same sex, for sure I felt that I was the only one who had these feelings, that I must be "sick," and that if I loved or lusted after another man, did that mean I was a woman in some way?

During the early Stonewall Era, I signed petitions, protested, and marched. But always carefully because I would not have done well being arrested and would for sure have been fired from my teaching position if I was found out. Astounding that it was felt that just because I was Gay, I would automatically be a threat to young boys while Straight male teachers didn't automatically molest young girls made and makes no sense.

Slowly things changed, being gay was more accepted by family and friends and colleagues. Eventually this issue of Gay Marriage began to be resolved in state after state and finally at the Supreme Court level. Even so that doesn't mean there are not gay haters and gay baiters and gay beaters out there. But it is better.

Now that marriage was possible between Gregory and I, we chose not to because of the financial complications that Medicaid would pose in his care at the Alzheimer's Care Facility. Bluntly: poor people are supported by the state or they die, the wealthy never has had to worry about getting the best care and paying for it. It is the middle class family (and now gay married family) that would go bankrupt and all those life savings, earned with such hard work, would fly out the window for health care.

But ironically, like the Hippies of the 70's who would rather live together without benefit of marriage papers saying, "How does a piece of paper make our love any deeper or any more permanent?" now Gregory and I could CHOOSE not to be married having at least the right to be able to CHOOSE to do so or not!

So to the title of this post. Tonight on the way home from visiting Michael's Museum: A Curious Collection of Tiny Treasures at Chicago Children's Museum on Navy Pier with a dear family friend who has served as a mentor and role model having been through the Alzheimer's journey with her husband; after dropping her off, the song from West Side Story, "Maria" and then "There's A Place For Us" came on the radio.

The lyrics resonated with me and I felt sad being without Gregory sitting next to me. I wondered about the strength of our love and wondered if that love was so strong, so pure, so intense because it was a love that "dare not speak its name" as it used to be called. Was it because it was a "forbidden" love that had to make its own rules and establish its own milestones of success. Was it a love so strong because as a male I knew what male love was about and that made it easier to love another male instead of having to figure out what a female needed when it came to love

Will never know for sure, just musing, but none-the-less, my love for Gregory and his love for me got us through many very difficult situations: Lack of money at times. Getting advanced degrees with lots of studying and less time to be together.

With "running away to Mexico" for 6 months when I was 35 years old. When Gregory divorced his female wife of 7 years. When he was searching for himself and trying to decide what his life's work would be.

When he studied for and passed his architecture licensing exams. When he opened his architecture and design firm and had me there to help.

When I lost a year to chemo therapy for my lymphoma cancer. When I retired early from teaching.

When we worked together to build Michael's Museum in the guest room of our home. When the museum was transferred to Chicago Children's Museum.

When we received his diagnosis of Dementia/ Alzheimer's. Through the twelve years we lived, and lived well with the diagnosis. With his last 18 months at the memory care facility. During the three days he used to die.

And now with my being really alone and grieving and trying to keep on keeping on.

And I realize that I am not the only one grieving his death. His family and many friends and just acquaintances for whom he made a difference grieve as well. His gentle demeanor, kindness, generosity, compassion, deep spirit and love of fellow personkind always shone through, even during his diminished years, months, weeks, and days with Alzheimer's

Will never know for sure about this huge love, but I do know and am grateful for a love that will continue to last for as long as I do and for as long as the people whom Gregory influenced and touched remember and love him as well.

Widow, The Term "Dead," and The Grief of Others

It seems the "Gay" thing to be a "Widow" instead of a "Widower." But that is just me:-) This realization shocked me. I knew (and hoped) that Gregory would die before I did, if only because of the odds set up by his Dementia/ Alzheimer's. But never thought that would mean that I would get a new title. "Widow."

In some ways I do not need or want to hold on to that label. I am just me. Michael. Whose life long partner, Gregory, person I loved more than life and still do, has died. And now I go on to decide who I am without a partner to accompany me through life. Title, label not necessary.

I am pretty well "defined" if only because Gregory and I lived, grew, and loved on parallel tracks that converged more often than not. We had our own unique interests, our own unique activities, and our own unique friends and those interests, activities, and friends crossed over often and we enjoyed learning from each other and experiencing life through each other's eyes. But none-the-less, I am still needing to redefine myself, yet again, now that Gregory has died.

I wrote a "kitty story" about one of our pets who died many years ago. It ends with and the title is: "My Kitty is a Memory Now." It is still painful as I continue to get used to saying and realizing that Gregory is dead. I prefer that to "passed," or "left us," or "gone," or "is an angel now." While those comments might make Gregory's death easier to talk about, the use of the word death, died, dead ... helps make the reality of the situation easier for me to learn to live with.

Based on a post from my friend Pat, who was one of Gregory's champions and who visited him very often, always to Gregory's delight, I realized that I am not the only one who is grieving his death. Click here to see "Pat Remembers Part 1" and Pat Remembers Part 2 (Both open in a new window.)

The following can be said by many people about Gregory's death:
     "I have a good friend who recently died."
     "I have a loving uncle who recently died."
     "I have a dear great uncle who recently died."
     "I have a brother who recently died."
     "I have a brother-in-law who recently died."
     "I have a colleague who recently died."
     "I have a good neighbor who recently died."
     "I have a wonderful college chum who recently died."

I was so wrapped up in my own grief, in planning for Gregory's cremation and his memorial at the condo and the one at the Lieberman Center, that I didn't stop to think how many other people would people would be grieving Gregory's death. He was loved by so many people. When a person dies, you get to hear about how they touched so many people's lives and so it is with Gregory. He will live on for a long, long time in the minds, and hearts, and memories of many.

Gay Used to Mean Happy :-)

It still does! 

Being "Gay" is so different today than it was when Gregory and I came out. For me it was towards the end of my undergraduate studies at The University of Illinois at Champaign/Urbana in the middle 60's and for Gregory as a bi-sexual man during his master degree studies at Harvard in the early 70's.

This condolence card was delivered this morning by the condo's custodian/engineer. Inside the printed text reads: "Your life has changed but not the love you two shared. Wishing you hope and strength in the days ahead. "

I am moved and impressed; and even thought unqualified love is and has been all around Gregory and me for a long time, I am still surprised and amazed. 

Having been "Gay" all my life (in looking back,) and coming out during the 60's and 70's; when it was not fashionable or acceptable to do so, when it was illegal in many places, while it was still "the sickness that dare not speak its name," when there were no older role models to be seen; I still find that my memory banks cause me "to look over my shoulder in fear of being discovered."

Why does the famous advertisement "You've come a long way baby?" come to mind?

Sex and Alzheimer's

Gregory and my sexual activity slowly disappeared over the last five years. (God, I miss him!) Our drives lessened. I would agree some of that had to do with the change in roles in our relationship, as I filled more of a parent role. Part had to do with the dementia medications of Aricept and Namenda. Part had to do with our getting older. We did continue to be very intimate in our hugging and kissing and snuggling and that continues to this day.

To briefly set the scene for the next paragraph, G and I came out Gay during a time when it was not accepted, there were few if any role models, if it was not against the law it was bullied. One kept totally private about ones sexuality. When one would go out to the bar (door located down an alley, no sign, usually thought to be run by the maffia) one was always looking over one's shoulder and waiting for the police to raid. No charges would be filed but there were repercussions: a night in a cell, fingers printed, your name appearing in the newspaper as a part of the raid, your family finding out, and the loss of your job.

Interestingly enough I think that Gregory (through his Dementia/Alzheimer's) is revisiting some of the homophobia of that time. I will ask for a kiss and he will not want one or say "not right" or push me away. A little later he will accept my show of affection. We (I on our behalf) are very open about our relationship of 40+ years as a same sex couple. We are who we are at the facility and have not had any troubles at all with staff or other families. That has been lovely. Our relationship is just as important as all the other family relationships and that is good. Also, extra legal protections have been taken care of so that I can make decisions on his behalf and his biological family has always been very supportive of our relationship as well.

Now that same-sex marriage is the Law of the Land, first in Illinois and now in the United States, Gregory and I have chosen not to marry. It is a bittersweet victory. First, Gregory is not of "sound mind" to be able to marry. Secondly and bluntly, healthcare for the poor is taken care of by the state or they die, the very wealthy never have had to worry about health care, the middle class takes care of itself until bankrupted.  Gregory is on Medicaid and the state is paying for his care. If we were married I would have to pay for all of his care until all our money was gone. This way I can live comfortably enough and afford to have a private care man with him 6 hours a day 7 days a week to help provide for the social/emotional side of Gregory's days. The facility provides excellent health care but there is never enough time for the residents to get enough social/emotional. Gregory and I are very fortunate. If our "Care Guy" is not a saint, he is a very highly place angel.

I laugh, now Gregory and I are in the same place as the "hippies" and "common law marriages" of yesterday, when we say, "Why not just live together. Why do we need to get married. It is just a piece of paper anyway. Our commitment is to each other and that is what matters."

Gay Marriage

Today from the Supreme Court of The United States. I have no words to express my feelings but plenty of tears. "In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were," Associate Justice Anthony Kennedy wrote in the opinion of the court. "It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. ... Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization's oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right."

The tears are double sided. Being able to get married but choosing not to is so much more wonderful than not being able to get married and wishing you could. I do not mean to diminish the importance of this historic decision by the Supreme Court but for Gregory and me to get married would mean financial disaster for us due to his being ineligible for Medicaid until all of our hard earned and invested monies were depleted.

Bluntly, the poor are taken care of by the state or die, the very wealthy never have had to worry about health care, the middle class takes care of itself until bankrupted. 

Interventions or Are They Daily Activities of Life?

In my comments to Kate Swaffer on her blog and in our backs and forths replying, I am becoming more aware of dementia in terms of thoughts, opinions, and attitudes of those who have it and those who do not. I have become more sensitive but still hold strongly to some of my previous views.

So based on a recent post of Kate's on things that can be done to help people with dementia in a better place, especially when distressed, agitated or upset, in place of using drugs, I made these comments.

You can read her full post here:
http://kateswaffer.com/2015/06/03/therapeutic-interventions-for-dementia/

If the activities help, in place of drugs, great. You are right to wonder about calling them "interventions" as they are the daily activities of life just used more purposefully. 

I wonder why you feel that many of the activities are good for residential but not in the community use. You say that they are "just things people do" so why not do them wherever and whenever needed?

I am a person without dementia and I put on my headphones and listen to music when I need to calm my nerves or control my periodic depression. I take walks to help me think. I pet my cat, play fetch (she actually returns the puff ball to my hand,) laugh when she climbs circus style to the top of a ten foot ladder, and cry into her fur when sad.

My theory is (and it is not original) "Whatever works, works. That is the measure of doing it or not!" 

Gerry, who has advanced dementia, loves her doll, talks to it, protects it, and shushes us when it is sleeping. It keeps her happy and feeling useful. What is the matter with playing with dolls if it works.

Vivian. who is less advanced than Gerry, says, "That is so foolish to play with dolls. My children are grown and I don't have to baby them anymore. I'd rather eat ice cream to keep me happy." What is the matter with eating ice cream and gaining a few pounds if it works. Also in small amounts and if monitored will it really hurt a diabetic?

Gregory has a Teddy Bear because I felt a "doll" would not "speak" to him but wanted him to have something like a "blankie" to comfort him. It works! He has always loved Teddy Bears. He loves this one who we have pegged, "Peaceful the Bear." 

He holds it for comfort, throws it down when he is upset. He cries into it when listening to emotional classical music and he fondles its soft fur absent-mindedly.

The bear has become a mascot for many of the residents and most of the staff at Gregory's memory care facility.

I have three more identical ones in the closet in case one goes missing or falls apart. I laughingly tell myself that I am a good mother. And if that works why not do it!

* * *

On a separate note, I am thinking about some of your recent facebook issues and your periodic comments: "Please leave your comments but leave your value judgement behind."

It reminds me of when homosexuality in the 70's and 80's was just beginning to organize itself, become more visible, fight for justice, come out! The Gay Men and the Lesbians more often than not bumped heads and battled when it came to labels like Gay and did that or did that not include Lesbians? And who is speaking for whom and why!

Now we are GLBTQ and very visible (including more and more same sex marriage support world wide) So call it what you want Gay, Lesbian, Bi-Sexual, Transgender, and/or Questioning ... we have come together.

The current (for lack of better words) battle between those with dementia and those without dementia, between those diagnosed and those who give care might just be leading us to a better place. Since reading much of your work and having done other research, I find I am being more careful with my vocabulary and realizing that some of my views are arguable and even insulting to some. 

I just recently (on waking in the middle of the night) revisited one of my blogs to clean it up. It came on too strong and for people who do not know me could very well wreak havoc in opinions. So I was comfortable to scale my comments back enough to still get the message across but not to offend anyone or open wounds or create new ones (especially for me:-)

http://mhorvichcares.blogspot.com/2015/06/between-rock-and-hardplace.html

Thanks Kate for being there!

South Pacific

I am posting this again in case you missed it on my writer's blog: http://mhorvich.blogspot.com.

The reason to repost it is two-fold. 1) Gregory and I have been watching it non stop since last Sunday. It is his favorite DVD, perhaps for some of the same reasons presented below. and 2) It deals with my having seen it 67 years ago on my 13th birthday.

Last night Gregory and I watched South Pacific on our TV. The movie premiered in 1958 when I was13 years old. My memories of seeing that movie with my family are strongly etched.

Perhaps to celebrate my 13th birthday, or perhaps my Bar-Mitzvpah, my mom and dad took my sister and me downtown to see South Pacific. In those days one got dressed up to go downtown. The movie was at a large, fancy movie theater of which there were many downtown; like the Chicago Theater, the Oriental, the Woods.

Now a days, movies open without fan fair but  in those days the large movie companies premiered their releases in the downtown theaters, they were big events, and seats were reserved.

The movie left its lasting impression on my young mind for many reasons. I certainly was homosexual at 13 but not practicing. At that age also, I certainly did not understand what being "Gay" meant or what I was really feeling. Seeing all those naked men singing and dancing on the beaches of the South Pacific must have aroused me not only sexually but also intellectually and emotionally.

At that age I did not have ideas, or opinions, or beliefs, at least ones of which I was aware. I knew what my parents and teachers had taught me to think and believe and while I probably felt conflicted in those beliefs, the conflict was not yet approachable.

I had not yet seen or experienced the adventures of the world, had never been on my own, and while I was already dealing with issues of "independence," I had very little.

The romance of the South Pacific island affected me: lush jungle plants, beautiful water, sunsets, sandy beaches, island life.

The good looking sailors who apparently were enjoying themselves, sang and danced with each other in the same way that boys and girls danced at the parties I attended at school.

Even though the movie takes place on the island because of war, very little of the carnage of war was shown; only more good looking, half naked men enjoying themselves in the hospital wards.

When Lieutenant Cable arrived on the Island, I instantly fell in love with him. When he fell in love with Liat, the Polynesian girl, it was as if he had fallen in love with me. When he died, I was bereft and grieved for a time after the movie.

I had fallen in love with love. Until that movie I did not really understand what love was about. One did not see much "love" in ones parents at that age if only because during the 1950's adults did not overtly demonstrate or discuss the concept of love.

I assume that my parents loved each other but at the age of thirteen I did not see much evidence of their love, only bickering and fighting and conflict in their relationship.

In addition to Cable and Liat's love affair, that of Emile, the French Man and his relationship with Nellie, the American nurse, was more proof that love existed, even though not easily attained.

So in addition to the lovely afternoon, downtown at the rare occasion of seeing a movie with my family, I was initiated into the world of fantasy, pleasure, independence, sex, and love. My unrecognized homosexuality was titillated and most likely provided much masterbatory material. In all, a productive afternoon and one that remains vividly etched in my memory.

•  •  •

South Pacific is a 1958 American romantic musical film adaptation of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical South Pacific, and based on James A. Michener's Tales of the South Pacific. The film, directed byJoshua Logan, starred Rossano Brazzi, Mitzi Gaynor, John Kerr and Ray Walston in the leading roles with Juanita Hall as Bloody Mary, the part that she had played in the original stage production.

More Than Ever

My love for this man continues to grow and grow. As Gregory's abilities continue to disappear, I am able to find more and more to love about him.

One thing I have always done since Gregory entered Lieberman Memory Care, is to be very open about our relationship and about my love for him.

I feel no embarrassment at hugging or kissing him when I want to or when he needs me to, even if we are in a large group of people. If he cries with joy or frustration, I feel no problem in hugging him and rocking with him.

Our relationship, same sex relationship, has been accepted by Lieberman administration and staff as well as by residents and their families on Gregory's and other floors.

People will ask about our relationship and I will proudly tell them Gregory is my life partner, my significant other, my boyfriend for over forty years now. Usually they gasp in amazement and say something like, "Most marriages don't last that long."

If the person is not aware, I will not go into any detail. If the person asks what I mean, I will go into my "gay" or "married" etc description.

I am tickled when people, family of residents or residents, ask if Gregory is my son or if I am his son.

Many people, both staff and family, have commented on how lucky Gregory is to have me and I will reply, "I am lucky to have him."

People will comment on what a wonderful love we have for each other, several have mentioned never having seen such a great love, and others have said they only wish they will love someone as much in their life.

When I hear this, my first feeling is one of embarrassment due to the attention and the visibility of our love, on the other hand I work at not holding back on the love when with Gregory, so the next feeling is one of confirmation.

I guess I just love this man and am a little amazed when others are amazed. It is what we do. It is who we are. That's all. But I guess that's a lot!

A Visit With Gertrude

While I was observing Gregory in Physical Therapy, I had a chat with Gertrude who was waiting to use the bicycle petals after Gregory. Turns out she is 100 years old, which was confirmed when I looked at the PT associate bemusedly for confirmation.

Margaret was at least as alert as you and I, well groomed, friendly and chatty. He husband had died some twelve years previously with an added, "I miss him but what can you do when you continue to wake up every morning."

She commented on what a handsome gentleman Gregory is and while empathetic did not feel the need to go on about how young to have Alzheimer's. "So sorry for both of you. It is what it is, I guess," she said warmly.

I told her we have been "partners" for over 39 years (still searching for the best descriptor since I am uncomfortable with "husband" because it implies sex types and roles. We are not husband and wife.)

She lit up and shared that she had her husband for some 75 years. We commiserated how difficult it is loosing the one you love (her's quickly, mine over the last ten years.)

Maybe it is because I came out Gay during the 1950's, and have lived a large part of my life through a time when being Gay was wrong, a sin, looked down on, punished, shunned, minimally - not recognized, etc; that I am still amazed when being Gay and having a life mate is taken as a mute issue.

The love of 39 years is what is recognized. My sacrifices is what is recognized. Our love for each other is what is recognized. My role in making all medical and health and life decisions for Gregory, as his husband - mate - lover - life partner - wife - soul mate - etc, is what is recognized and respected by family, friends, and everyone we have come in contact with at The Lieberman Center.

It was so refreshing and wonderful and life reaffirming to chat with Gertrude.

Christmas With Friends

We usually spend Christmas with what we call our "Gay Family," a group of 10-12 gay men with whom for the last 35 or so years we have been celebrating birthdays, holidays, and special occasions; traveling to Italy, Spain, and France; renting summer homes and ski lodges; sharing blood family and friends; and just having an all around good time. They say the best family is the one you have created for yourself (not to diminish the value of one's blood family.) This e-mail outlines where Gregory and I are this Christmas time.

Dear Boyz,

First, I wanted to let you know that we will not be joining you for Christmas in Racine ... my executive decision based on the fact that during these last few months Gregory seems to be failing at an increased rate and I have to be "on duty" 24/7/365.

This morning for example I had to help him go to the bathroom, shave, and get dressed. He was thirsty but I had to help him identify what he was feeling and hand him the glass of water. He forgot the order of putting on his underwear and his sweats. Tried to enter his undershirt through the head hold and didn't know how to get his leg into the sweat pants. He no longer can navigate a breakfast tray which I prepare with all his favorites so I have to serve one item at a time and often prompt him on how to use the spoon or even how to eat or drink. Today he seems to think, "Something is not quite right," but nothing is different than yesterday. Maybe tomorrow some skills will return but others will disappear. Some come and go some are gone permanently.

While I have still been trying to keep him active and involved, I have had to make some decisions on what we can do and when. Honestly, my decision about not being in Racine for Christmas is about taking care of me so I can take care of him. I just can't face the extra work of getting him ready, packing us up, driving to and from Racine, worrying  about snow or not, caring for and attending to him away from home during the party, and trying to enjoy myself as well. I know that there would be great support for him at the party, but still. What I (he) need(s) is a quiet holiday at home alone with Christmas dinner and watching "A Christmas Carol." 

We will still be doing New Year's Eve, which is on a Tuesday this year, and hope you can join us. Being at home will make it easier for him (and me.) Arrival time 6:30 for a glass of wine, dinner at Pine Yard at 7:45, back to the condo for cookies etc. Let me know if you can join us so I can make reservations at the restaurant.

Thanks for being there and for your support,

Michael & Gregory

Defending Myself

I walked down the street and the passer-by called me "Kike."
I did not answer nor defend myself for I know the true me who I am.


I walked down the street and the passer-by called me "Fagot."
I did not answer nor defend myself for I know the true me who I am.


I walked down the street and the passer-by called me "Honkey."
I did not answer nor defend myself for I know the true me who I am.


I walked down the street and the passer-b called me "Christ Killer."
I did not answer nor defend myself for I know the true me who I am.


I walked down the street and the passer-by called me "Nigger Lover."
I did not answer nor defend myself for I know the true me who I am.


I walked down the street and the passer-by called me "Ugly American."
I did not answer nor defend myself for I know the true me who I am.

When Gregory calls me through the actions of his Alzheimer's.
I wish I could do the same for him.