San Francisco
Part 15

As Spencer finished the piece he was playing, he smiled at Willie and me. "Daniel's leading you astray, Willie."

"Me!" I protested. "Yeah, right. Anyway, you gonna get naked too?"

"See what I mean?"

The three of us sat around, relaxing, and chatting about all kinds of stuff, but the convo was gradually steered in the direction of my curiosity about SF, and especially about the gay sector.

"It's like I said, Daniel... Willie and I aren't into it. But we've had a few glimpses."

"Like?"

"Well, not everybody who attends the Gay Pride Parade is gay. There was this one dude watching the parade with his buds from the top of a store marquee. They all looked to me like straight dudes from the 'burbs, but this one dude was shirtless, showing off a spectacular bunch of muscles. Woohoo! Sharply defined, but not overbuilt. A bod like yours, in other words."

"Thanks."

"Think hardly anything of it. Anyway, his jeans hung low almost to his pubes, showing off the nice external obliques pointing to his crotch."

"The what?"

"His crotch."

"No... the other thingy."

"Obliques... lines that are neither parallel nor perpendicular... the ones that lead from your hips to your crotch."

"Oh! Cool. Yeah, I dig those a whole bunch. Woohoo!"

"Anyway, I could describe this guy as a wordless statement... the personification of performance art, as if he were saying, "Hey! I'm not a fag or anything, but I think I've got a pretty good bod. If you guys get off on it, that's cool. I work hard for this."

"Does he remind you of anyone, Daniel?" Willie laughed.

"You mean me? Yeah, I can identify with that dude. It's cool when people get off gawking at you. Are you sure he was straight?"

"How can we be sure of anything?" Spencer asked. "He and his buds looked straight but, hey, who knows for sure? Anyway, the point is that he was a real head-turner, and he was enjoying the attention."

"There are also the gay teens who prance and mince too much," Willie added. "Y'know... the stereotypical gays."

"How can they be stereotypical if they're not typical? You said before that most SF gays are regular dudes like you and me."

"It's the way the media likes to portray gays. What's the media gonna do? An in-depth, no-holds-barred story on some gay guy shopping or walking his dog? Anyway, my guess is that the mincers and prancers were just taking advantage of their special day to be outrageous. Next day, they'd probably be back to normal."

"You get all kinds, though," Spencer interjected. "Country and western types in tight jeans, Stetson hats, and cowboy boots. There are the leather queens and various fashion victims."

"Victims?"

"Yeah, y'know, followers of fashion... victims. But most people are pretty ordinary looking. Not everyone wants to be outrageous. Most come to look rather than to participate. It's not obligatory to be gay in SF."

"But it helps?" I asked in all seriousness.

"Not really. The vast majority of people are straight, just like in any other city, but you don't find a lot of homophobia here, at least not on the streets. You still get it in schools, though. Peer pressure stuff. I'm sure that also happens in Tampa."

"Yeah, it does. But I just punch the fucker's lights out."

"Not everybody is as tough as you are, Daniel. The other day I bumped into this dude aged about sixteen pushing a bicycle with a flat tire. He was skinny, with very short hair. Looked kinda cool, though. Broad shoulders... very slim waist. He was doing his damnedest to look butch... had the beginnings of a goatee on his chin... you could count the hairs on one hand. Anyway, his bike was one of those chrome, very expensive looking ones... the kind you see kids doing amazing tricks with on TV. So I was kinda friendly and remarked on his flat tire."

"Yeah, right," I giggled. "How come you didn't remark on his broad shoulders or narrow waist?"

"You wanna hear the story or not?"

"Sorry."

"So the guy turned, and the butch facade disappeared as he lisped through his braces. "Yeth! I had to walk all the way from Fithermanth Wharf!" Then he went on to tell me that he'd walked the whole five miles. But he was young and pretty strong... he didn't seem to be any the worse for wear. So I asked him why he hadn't ridden the Muni."

"They won't let you on a buth or thtreetcar with a bithycle."

"That's a bummer. Glad to see you made it home, though." Then he turned up 27th Street and went his way. But the reason I'm telling you this little story, Daniel, is 'cause I figure that teen probably gets a lotta crap from his schoolmates... 'specially with the lisp and everything."

"How do you know he doesn't give 'em a knuckle sandwich if they fuck with him?"

"He didn't look the type. Hey, you think Willie and I grew up without that kinda homophobic crap happening to us? I wasn't always six feet tall, y'know. I've been up against bullshit all my life, ready to give it all up."

"All what up?"

Spencer just shrugged, then continued. "I think you know what I mean. I didn't have your attitude when I was your age, Daniel. Neither did Willie. Not all of us are a ball of aggro muscle ready to hammer the first dude who gives us a mouthful of crap. From what you've told me about your buds and your life, you deserve a fucking medal."

"You cussed."

"You don't take any shit from anyone, Daniel. It's weird, y'know. You see me as some sorta role model. You said you wanted to be just like me. You know something, Daniel? You're the one with the courage to be yourself. You're the one who stands up for what you believe in."

"It's not like that, Spencer. I don't go around waving fucking banners or anything."

"True, but you don't let other people wave theirs in your face either."

"Tell me about your folks. If they walked in here right now and saw us all sitting around naked, or worse, what would they say?"

"For starters, they respect my privacy. They wouldn't just barge in. Lemme tell you about something that happened a little while back. There were a whole bunch of us here... my folks, my grandmother, Willie, MM and his mom, some buds and their girlfriends. About eleven of us. After dinner, which I cooked, we were all sitting here in the living room. Grandmother was softly playing the piano... I think it was something by Mendelssohn. Anyway, my dad started reminiscing about the early years, and the struggle he and my grandpa had to go through to make our farming business what it is today. Then my dad started on each of us individually... he's known all my buds for as long as I have. He talked about how he'd watched us all grow up and develop into the people we are today. He began to get a bit teary as he talked about how we all protect each other, and about how proud he was of all of us. He congratulated Willie for having overcome some very serious emotional problems when he was younger. I'm sure Willie needed to hear what my dad was saying, 'cause Willie began to talk about his past, then started to cry. Dammit, Daniel, can you pass me that box of tissues?"

"Sure." After he and Willie had blown their noses, and dried their eyes, Spencer continued.

"Anyway, Motor Mouth didn't know about any of the trauma that Willie had been through... it was all news to him. So the little dude got up and gave Willie a huge hug... right there in front of everyone. By then, anyone who hadn't been crying now was. Even the girls were sobbing. And grandmother, who is not normally given to revealing her emotions, was in tears as well. So you ask about my folks? I've gotta tell you, Daniel, my dad is a great and wonderful man. And my mom is a great and wonderful woman. That day, when we were all sitting in this living room, was a once-in-a-lifetime, magical experience. It was about how much we all love and care for each other. I know you weren't there, Daniel, but I think you understand."

"I think I do. Your folks love you a stack, Spencer. Jeez, they even love Willie. He's like family. Your folks sound totally fucking awesome."

"I'm sure they'd appreciate hearing you say that, Daniel, so long as you didn't use the word "fucking"."

"Sorry. But your folks sound totally cool. I'm not sure my folks would feel the same if they knew everything about me."

"Maybe they know you better than you think they do. Y'know, not everything needs to be said in words. Your folks love you, right?"

"Heaps. And I love them."

"Cool. That's all that matters. If the time comes for you to tell them about certain stuff, you'll have that foundation of love and respect to carry you through."

I wanted to ask Willie about the emotional problems he'd suffered when he was younger, but I figured he'd tell me about them if he so desired. So I didn't pry. Meantime, I was pretty impressed with a couple of guys who were major heroes to me... windsurfers, interesting, intelligent, creative, whatever. Not in a million years would I have thought that they'd been anything less than what they were now.

"There's another thing about Castro that I'd like to tell you about, Daniel... that's if you aren't bored with all this gay shit."

"Bored? No way! My dick is... hey, check it out... the damn thing's gone lamo. But that's cool. My dick's not too bright. Yours is in hibernation, too. And so is Willie's."

"Hibernation will come to an end in bed tonight, Daniel," Willie grinned.

"Huh?"

"Never mind... listen to Spencer."

"Well," the tall, dark-haired dude continued, "I dunno if you're into theater or whatever, but the Castro Theater survives intact from 1923, with all its original, ornate decor. You walk into that theater and you see this huge, four-manual Mighty Wurlitzer pipe organ, which is still played during intermissions every day, just like it was during the silent film era. It totally blows you away. Whoa! I mean, theater organs have mostly disappeared these days... gone silent. But this one is lovingly maintained by a crew of gay organ buffs."

"I'm an organ buff," I said, then got an elbow jab in my ribs from Willie as Spencer carried on regardless.

"It sounds absolutely wonderful, Daniel. You had to be there. From a seismic roar to a sweet whisper. I can't tell you how much that appeals to a musician like myself. It stirs the very depths of my soul. And at the close of every set, the organist goes into "San Francisco", and the audience sings along and claps to the tune from the film with Clark Gable and Jeannette Macdonald. You know it?"

"Nope."

"In that movie, San Francisco crashes and burns in the 1906 earthquake, but Jeannette sings the triumphant song: "And you know that, no matter what, we'll survive!""

"Is that about earthquakes or gays?"

"Both. You want another Corona?"

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