My mother-in-law is fond of chirping “The only disability is a bad attitude.” By virtue of her profession, Crankenstein strongly disagrees with this, and we both find it offensive, but we often joke about it at home anyway. That means when Crankenstein tells me “You seem more disabled than usual these last few days,” what […]
My dad was in his forties the first time I saw him cry. Jack Buck, the favorite baseball announcer he’d faithfully listened to since he was a child, had died. As I quietly watched him from across the room, it was impossible to discern whether his tears were for the broadcaster he never actually knew
Owner of a Lonely Heart Read More »
On our first road trip together, Crankenstein and I visited her parents. It was a trepidatious occasion for us both. She was worried I’d flee within five minutes of seeing their house or meeting her father, and I was worried about the effect being back home would have on her mental health. For the first
My heterosexual sister had a girlfriend before I did, not that their entanglement lasted very long. To give you an idea of approximately how humiliating that was, it helps to know that she’s more than a decade my junior. While I had close encounters of the almost-girlfriend kind in my teens and early twenties, I
Love Is Only a Feeling Read More »
My favorite response to this week’s announcement of my Parkinson’s diagnosis came from one of my siblings, who said “First of all, it’s homophobic for this to happen during Pride month.” I don’t care much about Pride, which is currently little more than a soulless corporate celebration of a fictionalized account of Stonewall, but that
Though I’d always hoped to marry one day, regardless of its legality, I’d never envisioned a conventional wedding ceremony. Something quick, private and informal was more what I had in mind, exchanging vows before a judge and then grabbing a bite to eat. That was not what Crankenstein wanted for herself, so we compromised. She
If C.S. Lewis was right that “The death of a beloved is an amputation” — and I believe he was — I lost my first limb in my teens or early twenties, when my brother disappeared. Corporeally, he still existed, and still exists today. He snored in the bedroom across the hall from mine, monopolized
Highway to the Danger Zone Read More »
According to my mom, my first boyfriend was a kid from preschool named Josh. I have no recollection of Josh and few memories of preschool in general, other than the time a classmate caused a commotion during snack time by choking on a raisin. (The teacher leapt into action and Regan was fine by the
The Man That Got Away Read More »
My parents had me in their early twenties, which meant we grew up together. They weren’t emotionally prepared for marriage or parenthood then, and if their upbringings had been happier we might have all been spared our fates, but that’s the way the cookie crumbled. Despite their tender ages, I was a second-chance baby, one
The crowd at Roland-Garros angered me from the start this year with its indefensible booing of Marta Kostyuk, a Ukrainian who declined to shake Belarusian opponent Aryna Sabalenka’s hand at the net. But its support of native sons Lucas Pouille and Gaël Monfils has also moved me to tears (like its support of Gilles Simon