A Portrait of Father and Son Growing up in the 1950s, I was an unathletic, slightly effeminate gay boy. In my late teens, I finally became conscious of my “difference.” My father sensed it and tried hard to “shame away the gay.” It didn’t work.
At my mother’s urging, my parents attended Pflag meetings (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays). In June 1979, they marched in New York City’s Gay Pride Parade.
My father carried an “I’m Proud of My Gay Son” sign. Someone asked to take our picture. The shutter clicked. We faced each other and laughed — until tears came to our eyes. — Mark N.
Reiter Thanks for Sheltering Me The apartment was 1,300 square feet of uncertainty, the red front door welcoming me to life after divorce.