Pedestrian X-ing

“I have lost friends, some by death, others through sheer inability to cross the street.” - Virginia Woolf

I have never been afraid to cross streets, real or metaphorical.

One legend that has been oft-repeated in my family is the story of my dad walking me to a play date with a friend when I was two or three. We came to an intersection, he instructed me to stay on the curb, and squatted down to show me how to look both ways. In the middle of the lesson, he glanced at my feet. One round-toed little Ked had sneaked down into the street. I looked at him with guileless eyes, and he knew he was in trouble. As a toddler I was already daring anything - be it traffic or my dad’s lesson- to stop me or even detain me momentarily from reaching my destination-- in this case a friend.

I’ve had some rather crucial “Street-crossing” phone calls this week. One was made by me, the other to me. Both marked important changes in long-term friendships.

The call I made was to Minnesota, to the residence of the first man I ever told “I love you.” This relationship is one of my most prized- both because of the length of time involved, and the nature of its beginning. It is unusual to have any communication drought between us and I had been chalking it up to normal busy-ness for awhile, but the truth is I had been concerned about it for some time. So when he missed my birthday, I picked up the phone. He wasn’t home, and I had an uninterrupted hour of phone time with his partner.

My “favorite gay ex-boyfriend” (FGEB) is finally, some twenty-five years later, pursuing his MFA in Theatrical Design, and has a show opening this weekend. The show, incidentally, is Peter Pan, one I have heard derisive guffaws from him about for several decades now. I can’t say for certain, but it may well have to do with the whole idea of clapping your hands if you believe in fairies.

And I say that with all good humor and love.

So partner and I had phone time. And I learned that the reason for extended silence from the land of 10,000 lakes has not been simple busy--ness, but that there has been some real trouble in paradise, and it is likely trouble of the irreparable kind. Which makes me very sad.

FGEB sang at my wedding half a lifetime ago, I flew up to read “Desiderata” at their commitment ceremony in 2000. I love them with every fiber of my being, and will be devastated by this split. I will maintain a relationship with both of them no matter what happens. I have been walking happily down the sidewalk with these two men for nine years now, and we have come to an intersection.

We are standing at the curb. We stop and look both ways. We make our way across together.

The call I received was from my favorite cousin B. In this case, I suspect a change may be in the offing; a “hook-up,” for lack of a more accurate term, between my life-long love-hate, adversarial adolescent off-limits summertime crush--turned adult confidante, frequent houseguest and trusted ally, B, and one of the dearest female friends I have ever had. With his phone call, I sensed that feelers were being extended in my direction to gauge my response, not as his cousin, but as a far more primary relationship and one he is less inclined to disregard: his friend.

And by so doing, I see that he doesn’t want us to get run over either. He’d like to step off the curb, but wants to be sure I will cross this street with him.

Of course I will. Because when I say “I love you,” I mean it for keeps.

At the top of my MySpace blog is a motto I thought long and hard about before posting. It is one I firmly believe. I have lost many “friends” over the years to street traffic, because they were willing to forsake fundamental things they claimed they believed, who they had been, and all they stood for when they were faced with adversity. There inevitably comes a moment when people must stand up and define themselves- stand alone and name out loud the hill upon which they are willing to die. I have done it many times. I have written the manifesto, I have climbed up on the soapbox, I have declared my independence. I’m sure I will do it again.

“I am every age I ever was,” because I honor my experiences. And because I honor them, FGEB, Cousin B, and several others have lifetime membership in my friendship hall of fame, with all the rights, benefits, and privileges inherent to that distinction.

Which include crossing busy streets in construction zones on rainy, moonless nights.

Together.