We never heard of this studly Welshman until YouTube sent some of his videos my way the other day, and wow! What a great voice, in a great package. Woof! I guess it shows just how out of the loop we are here, as he has had an extensive career on stage and screen as a big, butch action-hero type. I wonder how many of my truckbuddies have heard of him before now - and why you didn't tell me!
Here are three songs that showcase his powerful vocal range. I hope you all will scroll down further to listen to his deeply moving coming-out story, which many of us can relate to. BTW, your superannuated Head Trucker can remember when all of these songs were Top 40 hits, as noted.
And here is Luke in 2024, discussing his upbringing in a homophobic church in a Welsh village, and reading a poignant selection from his memoirs. You know, I think all gay boys tell the same story of growing up a lonely, miserable outcast, not knowing what to do or whom to ask for help. Somehow, those who survive manage to achieve a reasonably good adult life. Some do better than good - Luke is one of those who has hit the jackpot in life. God bless him.
This is the very brochure I planned my trip with. Now for sale on Ebay for five bucks. I got my copy for free from the AAA travel agency, which handled the purchase and ticketing.
On this day fifty years ago, I began a two-week stay in London and Paris that remains a vivid memory. Like most young men, I had a yen to see the world; but the family finances, though adequate for a quiet middle-class life, did not extend to such an extravagance. However, the winter before, it had occurred to me that I could borrow from a life insurance policy my parents had taken out on me when I was born; it had a cash value of about two thousand dollars by this time. My desire to see the Old World I'd read about in books all my life quickly became something of an obsession, so I set about researching ways and means to get there.
Happily, I soon discovered that TWA had a wonderful program of "freestyle" Getaway Vacations - one price covered all air fares and hotel bills, and best of all, you weren't tied down with a tour group all day, every day. You were free to do your own thing and visit the places you really wanted to see on your own. Perfect. Although I would have loved to travel all around Europe, I settled for two weeks in London and Paris - the top spots on my must-see list - for which the price was about 800 bucks. That seemed quite reasonable at the time. I took with me about $400 in traveler's checks to cover incidentals - and I had my mom's Diner's Club card in case of emergency.
(To put the figures in perspective, my rent at the time was about $100 a month, and my total expenses, including utilities, food, and gas & oil, were less than $400 - minimum wage at the time was $1.80 an hour.)
I also invested in a couple of travel guidebooks - one was entitled Europe on $10 a Day, which was a great guide to all the cheap but good restaurants, hotels, and amusement places, and gave helpful tips on how to get around town cheaply. For example, I learned that the thing to do, as soon as you got to Paris, was to go buy un carnet - a book of subway tickets - which would save you a third or more off the regular fare. And in both London and Paris, the subway was a wonderful way to get all around town.
I also learned that I needed to get an International Student I.D. Card before I left the States - that gave you reduced rates or discounts at lots of stores, shops, and museums. But of course the prime thing was to get a passport, and apply far in advance of your departure date because the State Department was rather slow to fill all the thousands of requests they were swamped with every month. I didn't read that part until about the first of June, so I quickly got a photo taken and went to the downtown post office, where you had to swear you were who you thought you were, were not a criminal or communist, and could recite the Pledge of Allegiance backwards and forwards. I sent the application off with a note asking nicely for a little speed in processing, as my trip was leaving in less than 60 days.
God bless the kind-hearted soul in Washington who had pity on my plea - or did he or she just like my passport photo? My passport came signed, sealed, and delivered in good time, well before my departure date. The next thing to concentrate on was my choice of clothing. I bought a couple of new shirts, one neavy blue and one chocolate brown, both made of one of those new polyester fabrics they were trying out in those days - a kind of dense netting that wasn't see-through, but had many tiny holes, which I thought would ensure my comfort and coolness. And it did. To pair with those I had two pairs of jeans-cut slacks (not actual jeans), in tan and dark blue. This gave me the equivalent of four outfits; and the no-wrinkle shirts were so light they could be washed in a sink and hung over a shower rod to dry overnight. Perfect.
Your Head Trucker is not the type to go bumming around from hostel to hovel, hitching rides and begging food, as so many of my compatriots did in the sixties and seventies. The mid-priced hotels I stayed in were very like what you find in every American hotel: the rooms were air-conditioned, spotlessly clean, with comfortable beds and TV sets, and complimentary tea and croissants arrived on a tray first thing every morning. That's my idea of the way to travel.
Looking for my old passport photo. To be continued . . .
Fascinating artifacts from the the Smithsonian Institution trace the stories of gay Americans, famous and obscure, from the 1800s till today in this 2024 documentary. It's fairly good, though as is so often the case with such broad summaries, it sometimes glamorizes and dramatizes a bit more than is necessary - but worth watching anyway.
We've come a long way, baby; I just hope I don't live to see the pendulum swing back the other way. But it can and does sometimes, as history has shown many times in many places.
It bugs me when people talk about being on "the right side of history" - that's a misnomer. What they really mean is the right side of the future; but the future is unknown and unknowable. It hasn't happened yet. And there are no guarantees in this universe.
All we can ever know for sure is this little stepping-stone of time we live in - the present. So make the best of it.
André Rieu conducts a very cool performance of this old favorite of your Head Trucker's at the Schönbrunn Palace in Vienna, 2013. Sixty years ago, I used to play this on the piano.
One would have liked to go to a ball, a real ball, just once. Sigh. Alas, my fairy godmother never showed up! Which is just as well, I suppose - my big Texas feet would never have fit into any glass slipper.
We are sweltering through some mighty hot weather down here in Texas, boys - Tuesday it was 104 degrees, and the heat index was a whopping 119! The temperature inside the house was 85, even with the a/c system and all fans going full blast. We had a serviceman come out yesterday who cleaned and recharged the a/c, which helped; and also, the outdoor temp cooled off to a mere 98 degrees.
When we hear of silly-ass people in France or wherever agonizing over whether it is "ethical" to use air conditioning in extreme heat, we just laugh. The question here in the Lone Star State is: You want to live or die? It's that simple.
I hope all my truckbuddies are staying cool and comfortable. If you need something to take your mind off the weather, here's an amusing B movie from 1941 made by the Hal Roach studios - they also made the Our Gang comedies in the 1930s.
We like to watch old movies or TV shows during dinner at the kitchen bar; and it seems I have made a convert of M.P., who wasn't quite sure who Zasu Pitts was until I started playing some of her movies. Now he thinks she's swell. See what you think.
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.
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