The Wedding Day

My Mother always knew that I was gay.  It was kind of hard to miss, truly, and if there were video footage of me as a boy, there would be proof.  In my heart, I suspect that everyone always knew that I was gay.  But a mother’s support in this particular matter is paramount, especially during the years in which I grew up.  Born in 1964 and raised in a variety of States and countries during the Sixties, Seventies, and Eighties, I was subject to a great deal of homophobia.  But My Mam and my Grandmother Marjorie always provided a tacit understanding that I was loved, accepted, seen, and valued in all my flawed humanity, and, to be absolutely clear, in the Nineteen Seventies I didn’t have to be taught that homosexuality was a flaw - it was as generally spread opinion as the belief in god.  And the Eighties were no easier, with people saying that AIDS was god’s punishment for being gay and calling it the “gay plague” - I and my people were pariahs.  And, yet, it was in the Eighties that we all began to step, more firmly and defiantly, into the light.  What had been started by the Stonewall Riots really built to a presence, by the Nineteen Eighties, with more and more LGBTQIA+ citizens fighting, not just for Gay Rights but for the right to live, for the tools to live, for help from the government and the people to find a way to survive the AIDS crisis.  It may have all started at Stonewall but it took greatest hold and a global spotlight during the Eighties.  It had to.

The Nineteen Eighties was when I met the man that would become my husband.  Never, not once, did I say to my family, “This is my boyfriend” because I knew them well enough to have a reasonable expectation that they would accept him and welcome him into the family, which is exactly what they did.  Juana and Marjorie both adored him, they talked to him like a son and a grandson and acknowledged him as family.  Me Father, a dyed-in-the-wool Southern conservative ex-marine, also welcomed Pat into the family.  He did not, at any point, shun the relationship we had or treat my beloved badly.  There is every reason to think that Daddy did not want to have a gay son - it was considered wrong by society, for one thing, but, for another, my Father always loved me, deeply - he would not want me to have a life filled with struggle, which is what being gay would have presented me with - a life of struggle.  Daddy and I did not always understand one another and we did not always get along; imagine it - The Marine and The Drama Queen - it sounds like an episode of McMillan and Wife or a Gordon Merrick novel.  Nevertheless, that’s what we were - a Marine and a Drama Queen.  But Me Father paid for my college, he gave me a place to live when I was down on my luck, he drove me to auditions when I didn’t have a way to get around, he came to see me in plays, he was kind to my friends, and he always told me he believed in me.  Daddy always believed I could have made it as an actor, and he always told me so.  He once drove me to an audition for EQUUS at Stage West, stood at the back during the general call, watched me read, and gave me thoughtful and informed feedback in the car on the way home.  It can never be said that my Father did not believe in, support, and love me.

But gay marriage was a big stumbling block for him.

Daddy has not always been inclined toward change.  That’s ok.  He came from a different generation, and change is always different for the senior members of society when the youth starts monkeying around with things.  By the time Pat and I started getting married in all the States where it was legal, we had all been a family for decades.  Daddy and Pat had a relationship (Daddy even offered Pat to have a glass of Port with him after family dinners, and Mama and I would look at each other with wide eyes because that was a true sign of friendship).  But even as the tides were changing, my Father was not ready to accept gay marriage, and although he never preached about it, he never openly stated his disapproval, John was not going to participate in any of the weddings seen in the movie MARRIED AND COUNTING.  

That was not the case with Juana.

I called Mama one day and said, “Pat and I are getting married.  Do you want to be involved?”

“Yes.”  The reply was immediate.  She spoke before the question mark was even in the air.

I did not ask my siblings if they wanted to be a part of the process, which was wrong of me, but the truth is that we do not have that kind of relationship.  None of my family was present when my sister married - I don’t remember why but I think we weren’t invited, not out of any malice, simply as a matter of fact.  When my brother married, it was in a living room and we were all there, sitting on the sofa - there was little fanfare.  I was getting married on the steps of the Supreme Court - it would take twenty minutes; I didn’t want to put my siblings to the expense of flying out of town for a drive-by wedding that would be over in less than half an hour, and, besides, we did not have that kind of relationship.

But it was important to me that Mama be there, and it was important to her, which doubled down on how important it was to me.

Daddy made it clear that he would not participate.  He and I spoke, but not on camera for the film: we spoke privately.  We expressed ourselves, we expressed our love, and I let go of it.  In the years since the wedding, my father’s outlooks and opinions have changed a great deal and I have listened to him talk about rights, about Gay Rights, and about the changing tide in politics.  I believe that, if Pat and I were to have a wedding today, he would come, he would smile, and he would be happy.  This just wasn’t his time for that experience - it was Mamas.

Mommy flew from Texas to New York and traveled with us by car for the D.C. wedding.  She was introduced to everyone in our little New York family and everyone loved her.  Mama stood out in the sun on that April day, right in front of the Supreme Court, and when Tony Cointreau said, “Who gives these men..” her voice was loud, clear, proud, and happy.  “I DO.”  And, in the film, as the ring is placed on my finger, the camera pans up to Mama’s face and the smile is the happiest smile I know.  It is, unquestionably, my favorite moment in the movie Married And Counting.  Having her with us, on that wedding day, as she has always been with us, was and is a most precious and important moment in my life, and her presence in the film, the words she said, the way she presented herself, is what made My Mam the breakout star of the film. Each time there was a screening of Married And Counting, audiences fell in love with Juana. It is, quite literally, impossible to not fall in love with Juana - but especially after seeing her in the film, and especially for queer people. When you have a chance to see a mother that is so loving and so supportive, she becomes a person that you love.

On that wedding day, many people fell in love with Juana, and it’s a love that grows with each new viewer of the film Married and Counting.