The Peacock 1111

 In the dark I can only see Chuck, not older as he appears now but from when I first knew him twenty-five years ago.  He had a beautiful body, muscular, compact, the proportions of an Olympic swimmer.  And three times, I got to caress him, all of him, and my fingertips and palms still tingle at the touch of his smooth tanned skin.  I see him from then, and I wonder if he must also be thinking of me, now, this very  same moment.  Older now, grey, the years have robbed his body of its vigor, and he would be now well at least sixty.  But beneath the thinning grey hair, the same eyes, and yet different.  Eyes that are kind, compassionate, eyes that see.  He never before had eyes that saw.   Now he is a street minister,  a servant and follower of Christ, the same Lord that now I am purporting to follow.  And Carl is insisting that I phone him.  I will tomorrow.  Right after breakfast.  I wonder just how he remembers me.  The last time we saw each other, here in this house, it was morning and I fed him breakfast after he had slept alone on the hideabed in my father's study.  His being here closed one door and opened another?  I never told Dad that I had here in his absence an overnight guest, much less one whose penis I fondled and caressed on three separate occasions...

The Peacock 1110

 "Here endeth the lesson", say I.

"Agreed.  Karen does have a story", says Carl.

"I only wonder", says Francois, "Just why she is devoting so much attention to herself."

"Why wouldn't she?" says Carl.

"With all the time she is spending in seminary, learning about the Christian faith, God, pastoral responsibilities, doesn't this account of hers strike anyone here as rather inordinately self-absorbed?"

"She's an Anglican", say I.

"And that says it all?" says Francois.

"Yes, I 'm afraid that it does."

"Here's a joke for you", says Carl.

"Isn't it rather late?" says Francois, moaning playfully.

"When is a pre surgery transwoman like a fruit bowl?"

"Here it comes", say I.

"When they both have two pairs."

"Go to your room", shouts Francois, laughing...

"Yes", say I, "Time for beddy-byes, kiddies.

"Oh", one last thing", says Francois, "I got an email from Oliver, the Ugandan kid."

"How is he" says Carl.

"He's safe, wouldn't go into detail and still isn't safe to reveal where he is, but he's at least safe for now."

"Super good news", say I, already leaving for my father's bedroom.  "Good night..."

"

The Peacock 1109

 "I did have allies, though I must confess, no close friends.  It appears that I was the first trans person to have openly come through their doors.  There were also a couple of queer students.  Three exactly.  Openly queer, I mean, since there did appear to be a good number of closet cases among us.  A young lesbian who seemed almost creepily interested  in me, and two gay boys, who were also romantically involved together.  We never really spoke much.  We did share a few enjoyable lunches in the cafeteria and at first they assumed that I also was a gay man.  I think one of them was actually attracted to me, and so the thinly veiled but profound disappointment when they heard that I was transitioning.  But they did get over it, as we say, and our visits, though sparse, did continue to be enjoyable.  There was a camaraderie based on that common feeling of having nothing to hide from each other.  The girl student, whom I shall call Rachel, was rather different.  She would frequently stop to say hi, ask me how my day was going, and then she began to have all sorts of questions about my life, not the nosy prurient ones, but about my background, my family, the town I grew up in.  We never actually sat down to visit, but she would simply stop with me between classes, or perhaps escort me to my next class before leaving me at the door.  A most curious individual...

The Peacock 1108

 That particular student did turn out rather unfortunately.  I had noted how, throughout class discussions and group projects, of how obstinately traditional and conservative he was.  He became known, not too affectionately, as the Baptist.  He was meanspirited and not very bright, making him perfect for a fundamentalist forum.  Miraculously, he did make it through seminary, then was ordained and soon moved to a parish in Greater Vancouver where he took the parish out of the diocese as a result of Michael, our bishop of the day, legitimizing same sex blessings.  No sooner was he out of the diocese when he was caught en flagrante delecto abusing young boys in the parish.  Yes, sexually.  For some reason this little scandal never hit the news.  He had well moneyed relatives who succeeded in bribing the news agencies into silence.  Still, the pressure and shame were too much for him, and he committed suicide a year later.  We never communicated following our falling out in theological school, and I must confess that it has been hard for me to find any tears to shed for him.  I am not naming this individual, of course.  I am only mentioning him in order to give the lie to that grievous and egregious lie about queer and trans persons being sexually dangerous to children.  It should be very clear, through this particular illustration, that we are not any danger to anyone, except to those that will only let go of their pet lies and illusions once they are pried from out of their cold dead hands.

The Peacock 1107

 I'm yawning.  "I suppose that any distraction is good.  Yes, let's give her a page or two, since it's getting pretty late." I reach for Karen Wilson's memoir, and turn to the book mark.

"In residence they gave me a private room with ensuite bathroom, which has now become standard in seminary, but in this case they were giving special consideration to my "delicate" condition, since no one really knew whether I pee standing or sitting down, and still no one is going to know such salient or prurient details concerning me.  It is simply nobody's business  And that has been really my toughest battle while transitioning. Not the stigma, not the ignorance, or the prejudice, and not even the transphobic hate, but those stupid, invasive and nosey questions.  Completely inappropriate questions that not even certain theology students or teachers appeared completely immune from asking.  Sometimes I like to wonder what it would have been like if some of us were sharing the bathroom.  I can almost imagine the curiosity coming from roommates every time I go to the bathroom, and how manfully they must have to resist sneaking in after to see whether or not I left the toilet seat up.  One young man I appeared to be becoming friends with asked me one day following pastoral strategy class, if I intended to keep my penis.  I asked him whatever would you ask me that for?  He replied that he was just wondering if I would go on needing it.  And I snapped back at him that it might even be that I will have more use for mine that he would ever have for his.  Needless to say, our friendship died on the spot, and following classes he would make every effort to avoid having to talk to me...

The Peacock 1106

 "So what does everyone think of this proposition?" says Francois, "That the gods of Olympus were in fact space aliens, advanced humanoids that came to earth to civilize us?"

"It's as good an explanation as the others" say I.

"They were either Nephilim, or they were their angelic progenitors", says Carl.

"Seriously?" says Francois.

"It seems to square with the account in Genesis, Antediluvian."

"Yes, the Great Flood", say I, indifferently.

"How is Erik?" says Carl.

"Tired, but sleeping all day from boredom and jetlag.  And scared."

"Understandably", says Francois, "with having to be in quarantine and everything."

"There's more to it than that."

"How do you mean?"

"Remember Lindstrom?  From Kenny's diary?  He's shacked up with my ex-wife who is legally married to a Turkish guy who has custody of their son.  Anyway, Erik is frightened for his safety because they were threatening to have him abducted if he didn't start cooperating with their plans for him.  And Erik suspects there is something very strange about Lindstrom, who apparently is well over sixty, but hasn't aged one single day since he was thirty."

"He must have a good cosmetic surgeon", says Carl.

"Evidently, this is all natural."

"Creepier and creepier."  He yawns and says, "Feel like reading some more of Karen's book, or are we all too tired at this late hour?"

The Peacock1105

 This episode of Star Trek is from the first season, 1966.  It's hard to believe that this program is almost sixty years old.  Here they are stranded on a planet that is ruled by the Greek god Apollo.  Yes,  THAT Apollo, who is outrageously handsome and resplendent in a golden tunic showing his muscles, though Carl has just remarked that he looks so darling in his dear little mini skirt.  Apollo is despondent with self pity because no one worships neither him nor any of the other gods any more, not for thousands of years, and that he is the last holdout of the gods, who have all vanished into some realm beyond realms because they are no longer being sustained by the adoration of mortals.  It turns out that according to the script, the gods of Olympus arrived on earth from another planet and taught the savages civilization and basic good manners and toilet habits before they returned home in their spaceship.  And now Carl is remarking on a novel he read some ten years ago or longer about the Greek gods all taking residence in contemporary London, where they have to work at day jobs and live as ordinary mortals because no one will worship them.  "Among other things", says Carl, "Aphrodite is self employed as a phone sex worker.  Who´d have known?"

"Well, she knew the biz", says Francois...