Sixty years ago, I saw this film, or one very like it, in my high-school P. E. class. Quite well-made for the time. There was much nervous laughter in the room: the shock of recognition.
Since puberty had already begun for me that summer, this was a timely learning aid. But even more helpful was the book Boys and Sex by Wardell Pomeroy, one of Dr. Kinsey's associates. It told me everything I needed to know and more, simply and clearly, without moralizing. A great help to a gay boy just beginning the long, often painful journey of self-discovery in an uncomprehending world.
God is light, and in him is no darkness at all. --I John 1:5
One of your Head Trucker's all-time favorites, which speaks to me of spiritual things. I would like to have this piece played at my funeral one day. It is performed here by the Vienna Philharmonic, Gustavo Dudamel conducting, in the gardens of the Schönbrunn Palace on June 20, 2019.
The Adagio was written by American composer Samuel Barber (1910-1981) in 1936; thirty years later, he used the music for his choral arrangement of the Angus Dei. He was partnered with the composer Gian Carlo Menotti (1911-2007) for more than forty years.
Your Head Trucker has noticed in the last several years that many girls and young women have developed the irritating habit of ending every sentence on a higher note - as we normally do when asking a question. For example: I live in Boston? I am majoring in biology? I want to work in hydroponics? This is a childish habit born of insecurity, it seems to me: as if the speaker is asking permission to say something, or unsure if she is saying the right thing. A careless, highly annoying habit they should have gotten over by third grade.
Recently, I've noticed boys and young men - straight guys - adopting this same rising tone at the enf of their sentences, which is different from the "gay voice" that some gay boys and gay men have. We know it came from unconsciously imitating the cadence of our mother's voices, and other female relatives; some of us grew out of that, while some embrace it. To each his own.
Whatever the case may be, grown men and women should speak clearly and confidently, not like shy little kids; that's just my opinion - you can take it or leave it. But here is Dr. Taylor Jones, a linguist who explains what the research shows about this "unmanly" speech phenomenon. I don't have the experise in that field either to agree or disagree with him. See what you think.
I'd always wanted to see this delightful scene from The Sound of Music played by a couple of gay men - and whaddaya know, somebody else finally had the same thought. Here are Andrew Keenan-Bolger and Jay Armstrong Johnson flawlessly performing the scene at the Broadway Backwards benefit in 2017. Both were about 30 at the time. Johnson, the taller one, is a Texas native and rather studly, too. Enjoy.
For comparison, here's the lovely 1965 original, played by Charmian Carr and Daniel Truhitte:
What I Say: The lyrics don't quite work between two boys, though it's all in good fun. But I dare say, they wouldn't work between a boy and a girl either, in this modern age. For a couple of generations now, girls have been raised to be as tough and indpendent as boys. How well that has succeeded, others may judge.
Today I just want to share an excerpt from a poem I happened to come across that speaks to me in the midst of this foolish, frantic, fractured, frightful modern world, so cruel and so cynical.
One of my all-time favorite tunes, from MGM's Broadway Melody of 1940. Fred Astaire and Eleanor Powell were the top dancers of the time, and it shows. Consider this: there is no animation or special effects in this film. All the music was performed by human beings on real instruments, and all the dancing was done by human beings who rehearsed and rehearsed for weeks on end until every step, every move was perfect.
Computers hadn't been invented yet - hell, even transistors hadn't been invented. There was no videotape. either - all that you see was created by light and sound on 35 millimeter film, which had to be bathed in chemicals before it could be projected and viewed. A great collective work of artists in many fields, in front of and behind the camera. Human creativity at its peak. I'm afraid we will never see such a thing again.
The King's Birthday Parade, also known as Trooping the Colour, live from London on what the news commentator says is "a perfect summer day" there - temperature 68 F:
Bonus, 4 p.m.: It's 93 degrees here Texas on a beautiful sunny afternoon. English historian Allan Barton, who styles himself The Antiquary, gives an in-depth explanation of the Trooping and its history, if you can stand it:
Life-size bronze statue of Sandow, taken from plaster casts of his body in 1901. Better views of the statue can be seen here.
An excellent documentary about the Father of Modern Bodybuilding, whose physique and feats of strength awed the Victorian world:
In other places, I have read that he had a longtime male partner the public did not know about, but you'll have to look that up on your own. It's my nap time here.
This song recalls for me another springtime and the bittersweet memory of my first love, more than half a century ago. I've written about Pat before, if you care to read the story - that chaste and secret love we shared came to a sad ending, but I've never forgotten the sunshine days of fun and friendship - that special cameraderie of boys becoming men together.
Other loves and other disappointments followed; but at this late age, living contentedly with M.P., I realize how blessed I was to have those friendships and passing joys. How true the saying is - better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.
Yesterday, I happened to come across this recording by the Mike Faraci Band, a local NYC group, which is an amzingly good cover of the 1972 Badfinger original. Huh. How do those young'uns even know about such antique music, I wonder.
By the way, Mike is a man of parts: lead singer, guitarist, composer, artist, interior designer, and is highly skilled at carpentry and other DIY projects. Rather studly, too. Check out this tour of his New York City apartment - his aesthetic is not mine, but I can appreciate what he's done with colors, textures, and light:
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, harmony; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that I may seek not so much to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.
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We cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love.
and welcome to the Blue Truck, a blog for mature gay men with news and views on gay rights, history, art, humor, and whatever comes to mind. Plus a few hot men. The truck's all washed and gassed up, so hop in buddy, let's go.
CAUTION: For mature gay men only beyond this point. Some posts and links may not be suitable for children or the unco guid. You have been warned.
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My Story
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Churches say that the expression of love in a heterosexual monogamous relationship includes the physical, the touching, embracing, kissing, the genital act - the totality of our love makes each of us grow to become increasingly godlike and compassionate. If this is so for the heterosexual, what earthly reason have we to say that it is not the case with the homosexual?
It is a perversion if you say to me that a person chooses to be homosexual. You must be crazy to choose a way of life that exposes you to a kind of hatred. It's like saying you choose to be black in a race-infected society.
If God, as they say, is homophobic, I wouldn't worship that God.
