From the introduction

I was getting gas for my delivery van the day I spotted Robert sitting in a chair outside the pay window. I ask him if he worked there and his nod indicated that he didn't. He then became very talkative and told me that he just fixed tractor-trailer tires when someone needed it, and then went on to say that he was trying to save enough money to rent a place to stay since his step dad had just kicked him out. I felt sorry for him and ask him if he would let me buy him lunch. At the time, my intentions were to invite him to church, but the lunch talk was more about him, and the longer I listened the more I be-came attracted to him. Since the conversation never got to religion but had instead turned into a travelogue of each other's lives, the question he blurted out seemed almost forthcoming. He just came out and ask me if I was queer, like why are you buying someone lunch that you don't even know if you're not. I gave him the most accurate answer I had at the time; I don't know what I am. He smiled, and then in a soft voice, he whispered to me that he also had this very same problem.

From the Chapter
A light comes on.

I am amazed at the intensity of my sexual desires at this early age. Most of my life I will be confused by them yet I will also find a powerful excitement in the planning of encounters and then the actual events themselves. I have never felt perverted in any way, but I knew I was different than others and I would have to live my life accordingly. I knew immediately with Kevin, that I enjoyed being with someone of the same sex. Then after James I was sure. For a young boy growing up queer in the fifties, it was a nightmare. But the reality of it is, that it didn't matter, I had to accept it and deal with it.

I'm sure that every guy that finds himself in this situation deals with it in his own way. It's just like many other things in life as there is no manual on growing up queer. You adapt, you deal with it, and you survive. I don't think I dealt with it as well as I could have, and I've had a few friends tell me over the years that they felt that they did not do well at being queer either. Sometimes young people commit suicide when they realize the life that lies ahead of them as a queer, and although I had minor brushes with those thoughts, I was fortunate enough to get past that.

The events in this book don't celebrate being queer, nor do they condemn it, but they allow you to see how one person dealt with it. No one made me queer. It was a natural feeling for me. I knew the very first time I saw Kevin naked that day in the woods that I liked the sight of another guy, and when he touched me, it set me on fire.

From the Chapter
Running

When things got extremely bad I often just walked out of the house and headed up the road to nowhere. The city reservoir was at the top of the hill just above our house. If you walked the streetcar tracks for about a half a mile you would find the metal door that lead to the main water line that went down to the city. Often I would go into this cave like tunnel and walk the length to the top. Sitting there in the dark I could hear the rush of the water growling through the pipes, drowning out all other sounds. I loved the peacefulness of it, but the mere thought of a pipe busting inside this chamber offered me more inner peace. Then it would all be over, and they would never find me. I'd be torn into a million molecules and spread over the city that sat below. When I got tired of feeling sorry for myself I'd head back home.

From the Chapter
Chris

That was the beginning of a great friendship and al-though Chris and I spent many hours together, I don't remember having much sex with him, but I knew that I had fallen in love with him. He was perfect in every way, and for the first time in my life I was experiencing the happiness of knowing someone cared for me. Chris knew I loved him, but he wasn't ready to admit his love for me, and while our bond with one another was clear to both of us, I honored his adolescent indecision. Although never spoken, there was an understood approval of the adoration I had for him, allowing me the opportunity for touching him tenderly when we were alone, and acknowledged by the tender touch offered in return.

Often as we sat in his living room watching television I would find myself staring at him. I longed to be able to touch him right there in front of everyone, to let the world know he was mine. I studied his every curve, the curl of his upper lip when he smiled, the sparkle in his eye when he laughed. I listened to how he pronounced words, tried to think what he might say before he spoke them. I now knew who I was, what I was, and what I wanted. No longer did I need to wonder what these feeling were, I had my answer and now it would be about how I was going to live my life. A short time later, in counseling, the doctor would raise the subject of my love for Chris, and reaffirm the reality of it, but for now, we were just best friends, and that was good enough for me. I don't re-member kissing Chris, except on the back that night, and I regret that I didn't, as it might have