My Prediction

There will be major riots in LA on Tuesday at Michael's funeral.

The Day Generation X Grew Up

I am no authority on anything other than my opinion. And this makes me no more qualified to make a statement about the passing of Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett than anyone else, but they were both big parts of my childhood, so I'll toss my 2 cents into the wishing well. First and foremost, you won't read anything negative about either one of them on here. I choose to remember the good.

She was probably the last official pin-up girl and by far one of the most beautiful women to ever walk this planet. She was an angel and not just because of the one season she spent on the iconic show "Charlie's Angels." If you were alive during her heyday, then you know that she touched everyone. People in every generation knew who she was and were enamored by her beauty and that smile. She came off as a very down to earth and friendly person. And from the very few people I know who actually knew her, she was just that. I remember my mother commenting on how beautiful she was. She went from being the beautiful pin-up girl to giving two of the most powerful performances ever delivered by an actress in the movies "Small Sacrifices" and "The Burning Bed." I tried to watch her documentary chronicling her battle with cancer, but I just couldn't. It made me think too much of my own mother and I guess I'm just am not ready to face that yet. I am saddened by the loss for her family but happy that heaven got one of it's angels back. Now I'm a little jealous that my mother gets to hang out with Farrah Fawcett.

I am old enough to remember Michael Jackson when he was in the Jackson Five. I remember when "Ben" was on the radio. I remember being floored by the record "Off the Wall." I remember Michael being the first black artist on MTV when "Billie Jean" premiered. Then he went on to make MTV his own. Then "Thriller" came out. Man, there was no one like Michael. It didn't matter if you were old, young, black, white, gay, straight, you liked Michael. We all wanted to dance like him and we all unfortunately dressed like him on occasion. I had the "piano key" shirt in the "Beat It" video. There just aren't words for how this man defined himself as an icon and a musical genius. He single hjandedly brought black music into the mainstream. "Off the Wall" is by far the greatest dance/R&B record of all time. "Thriller" is by far the greatest pop album of all time. There isn't an entertainer left on this planet whose death will affect us like Michael's did. No one reached further across the globe into the hearts of people in the tiniest villages to the largest cities. He was and will always be the most famous man in the world, if not the universe. I hope that he can now find some peace and solace and let us enjoy the musical legacy he left behind. Good night sweet prince, may angels sing thee to they rest.

No disrespect meant to Ed McMahon, David Carradine, Gale Storm or Billy Mays, but they did not have the impact on me like the one Farrah and Michael had. Thank you to them all for what they brought to our lives and may they all rest in peace. And since we had six in a quick row, we should be set on our icons dying for awhile. Let's hope so.

Pride....A Deeper Love

Usually this time of year, I use my blog as a way to educate my readers about the history of the gay/lesbian community and the different events in history that helped shape us as a community and ignite our fight for equality. This year though, I'm going to do something different. This year I'm going to address the younger members of the gay community. I am specifically speaking to younger gay men. I write this because I'm worried that with people becoming so accepting of us, that you are in danger of becoming complacent. There is nothing that can ruin a cause or a fight for rights faster than complacency.

Last summer, I was at Blackstones. I was talking to my dear friend Tracy. Tracy is older and as he puts it has been around since Jesus was a boy. He's a fighter too. He has beat cancer more than once, has been told by doctors that he has a few months left to live....that was 15 years ago. He can tell you stories about what it was like to be gay in Portland when the bars had their doors painted black and you had to sneak in. I'm 40 years old and hearing Tracy's stories reminds me to never take my rights for granted. It makes me grateful that America, and specifically Portland, has become so accepting. I feel safe as a gay man in my city. I feel like a valued member of the Portland community. I feel as though my struggle for equality is one my entire city believes in.

I had stepped outside the bar to smoke a cigarette when I over heard a 20-something gay man say, "Oh my god, there's too many old queens in here, let's go to someplace else." Then he flicked his cigarette and let out this exasperated sigh of contempt. He caught me looking at him and I must have had a perturbed look on my face because he asked, "What's your problem?" My response was, "Your attitude." We didn't have any big grand conversation. I simply went on to say that it's a wonder our community has made any progress whatsoever with the amount of in fighting and judgment I see all around me. And you know what? Maybe this kid had a bad run in with an older man. I don't know him very well so I don't want to cast judgment on him at all. But this has to stop.

There is room for all of us in our community. Every community needs its generations of people. The elders pass on what they've learned and what they've experienced to the next generation so that they can learn and life can be easier for them. Throughout history, this is how every community has survived. It may be in our nature as kids to scoff at our parents and grand parents thinking we know better. Trust me, I was that kid who couldn't be told anything. It wasn't until I joined the Army where I depended on the knowledge and skills of my superiors and my elders for actual survival that changed my tune. It could come to that in our community too. We live in a world where everything changes faster than the speed fo light.

When I first came out in the early 90's, I was living in Chicago. I had just gotten out of the Army and I approached my being gay the same way I did the Army. I wanted to learn what it was all about. The Army was the first time in my life where I felt like I belonged, like I was a part of something and that I could make a difference. That's how I felt when I moved to Chicago. So luckily for me, the first group of people to bring me into their circle happened to be a group with very diverse age ranges. I learned a lot from all of these men. The older men who had been "out" since the 60's to the men in their 30's who were reveling in some of the recent strides in gay rights. I even learned from the men my own age because they had all been out much longer than me.

So to the younger gay men. Please don't think of your older gay male counterparts as "old queens." Look at us like you would your older siblings, parents, grand parents, etc. Look at us for the knowledge we have. Respect us for the strides we made that have made your life easier. I don't think you have to relive what we went through to understand that you have what you have because people have been fighting tirelessly for equal rights for AT LEAST 40 years now. You don't have to befriend every older guy you meet, but you also don't have to brush them off or think of them as tired or useless. Believe it or not, we were all young and hot at one point and we all thought we'd be young and hot forever. But guess what, we all got older. 25 became 30, 30 became 37 and then next thing you know, you're at your 40th birthday party. It comes much faster than you think it does.

When I first came out, it seemed that most of the men my age did seem to have some respect for our older counterparts. Maybe it's because we were still in the midst of the struggle then. Most of us weren't out to our families or at work. We were gay at home and in Boy's Town, but we were still living double lives. So we looked to these older men to give us some insight about how it's done. They taught us how to find the right balance.

Well, guess what, times have changed. We've come a long way. Gay men are coming out of the closet as young as 12 years old. There are gay groups in high schools now. That was completely unheard of when I was a teenage in the 80's. We're not asking you to date us or f*ck us. We're just asking you to respect us. I'm 40, so most men don't consider me old, but I'm not 20 anymore. Still there are men much older than me who are still young at heart, in great shape and full of life. They paved the way for you the same way you're paving the way for generations to come. Learn the history of your community. Absorb the knowledge. Know it well enough that you can pass it on to someone else without having to look it up.

And lastly, in World War II, Berlin was a bit of a gay mecca. People were openly gay and they were living a great life. Hitler despised gay men and during his reign of terror, he destroyed Berlin. Within the course of a few weeks, gay men went from running the streets holding hands with one another to cowering in dark doorways disassociating themselves from one another. And the ones Hitler caught, he put them in concentration camps and tattooed pink triangles on them. That was in the late 30's and early 40's. In the grand scheme of things, that wasn't very long ago. The house you live in has probably been around longer than that. If we get compliant it could happen again. If someone like Sarah Palin ever becomes president, it could happen again. It's up to you to keep this fight going and don't stop until we're considered equal members of society. And then, make schools teach our history in the classroom. Make sure everyone knows our struggle.

There's enough infighting in our community as it is, lets at least see if can maybe stamp out ageism. It's a start. Want to learn a little gay history right now? Then read my Gay History Blog from 2007. Click HERE.

As always, thank you for reading.

The Night June 11th Changed My Life

It's just about 11:30 and I am beside myself. I had a great day at work and was really looking forward to dinner with my friend Peter. After a drink at Blackstones I convinced him to go to my hangout...Flask. He was definitely reluctant, but no more than 15 minutes later I knew he was hooked. We had some great food, caught up on our lives and even talked about fire. He is a fireman and my dad was a fireman.
He agreed to come outside while I partook in the filthy habit of smoking a Camel Light.

While outside, we encountered my dear friend Becky Albert. She's one of my favorite people on the planet and one of the best new and up and coming musicians/singers around. So we're standing outside talking and this blond guy walks by rather slowly. He seemed interested in us in a curious way. So Becky engages him in conversation and convinces him to come in and hear her sing. Inside, Peter and I buy him a beer and try to make him feel at home. Between the "sirs" and the "ma'ams" I could tell he was either in the military or from the south....or both. Turns out it was both. He was a fish out of water in Portland Maine.

As Peter and I chatted with him, we found out he was an active Marine on leave from Iraq. He was ushering home the body of one of the soldiers he recruited. He had already attended the funeral and done his duty. And like me tonight, he was beside himself. As he told his story, he brought us to tears. He asked that we kindly not cry. He said that at the funeral, the mother of the deceased soldier did not cry until she saw him shed a tear. I felt so honored to share a beer with him and to hear his story.

At one point he asked if I thought Becky knew any Kenny Rogers. So he asked and she paused and before you knew it she was pounding out the rhythm on her guitar and we were all sang along. "You got to know when to fold 'em. Know when to hold 'em. Know when to walk away. Know when to run......"

That Marine seemed to have a really great time tonight. He and I bonded. I recognized his quiet intensity and his trepidation to talk about his life. He was in a foreign world here in Portland Maine. After spending more than a few years in Iraq, he was out of his element. He told me he forgot how sneakers feel to walk in. How it felt to be around people and to not live in fear. And he thought it was so great to hear Becky sing.

He asked if I could walk with him and then call him a cab. I did. We walked, shared a cigarette. He talked about how he was heading back to Iraq on Sunday. He talked about how being here should feel like home, but how he felt more at home in Iraq. He was steadfast in his desire to go back and do his recruit proud. More so, he wanted to do that recruit's mother proud. Make her realize that her son was a hero. Marines are a different breed. They're loyal to a fault and they will defend honor like no one else. They get a bad rap sometimes for being so tough and unforgiving, but beneath that tough exterior of every Marine, beats the heart of a true Patriot.

So as you go about your day, think about the Marine who gave up his own vacation time to usher home a dead soldier. And how he wants to go back and defend his honor and your honor and America's honor. Not even one night of civilian life could detract him from his mission. I'm honored to have met such a humble soldier. Say a prayer for his safety. Say a prayer for the family of the dead soldier he ushered home. And then say a prayer for every single man and woman who have served and continue to serve our country. Freedom is not free.

It it is now 11:52 and I need to go to sleep. Sweet dreams and may all our soldiers find some peace in their slumber tonight as well.

The Return of the Blog!

Here it is June 10^th and I am finally starting back on my blog. Much has happened since I last wrote, but I'm not going to use my first blog boring you with long-winded updates. So let’s just tell you the condensed version of the two months or so:

I shaved my head.

John moved to Florida. He seems to be doing really well there. We were able to part of very good terms and as very good friends. I talk to him periodically.

Russ and I moved to 207 Walnut Street in South Portland. We’re busy working away on the 4 bedroom Colonial house. It’s a little more work than we expected, but it feels like home and we’re plugging away at the various projects. I’ll post pictures here soon.

We have had a phenomenal Spring and beginning of Summer here in Maine. We’re usually still battling cold weather, but it’s been nice. We’ve had some raw-ish days, but luckily they’ve been week days for the most part.

My brother Mike and his wife Yolanda gave birth to Gloria Elena Whalen on May 16, 2009. She is named for my mother and Yoli’s grandmother. She is a beautiful and healthy baby. I even wrote a song for her. More on that to come.

End of updates.

As I’m sure is the case for most cities, Portland has a large population of skate boarders. They range in age and gender and they’re everywhere. Exchange Street in the Old Port part of downtown is considered the hub of the downtown shopping area. It is also a decent sloped hill that has foot traffic and auto traffic. One of the big concerns with this street is the skaters use it as well. And they’re often weaving in an out of traffic and going up onto the side walks. They come up so fast that they often startle motorists and pedestrians. Mind you, not EVERY skater does this, but some do. So the city wants to put in some cobble stones in the street to curtail the problem.

The skaters had a great skate park down on Marginal Way that they paid for with donations they personally raised. However, the city of Portland sold that land to Intermed for their new office building, but the skaters never saw any of that money. So where did the money go? Did the city pocket the skater’s share of the money? If they raised the money themselves, why didn’t the city pay the money back from the sale of the land?

The city is currently building another skate park to help with the problem, but the skate park isn’t all the convenient to the downtown area. Since many skaters use their boards as transportation, putting a park out of the way isn’t going to help them any. Many people have written into a local paper complaining about the skaters and comparing them to “outlaw bikers". Are you kidding me? Talk about generalizing. That’s like saying all people with tattoos are like outlaw bikers. It makes no sense. I know plenty of people who ride skate boards who also hold down good jobs and pay their bills. They’re not out there trying to be outlaws or hoodlums. They just want to skate.

So how about the city building them a skate park in a convenient location? Like maybe down on the waterfront or on the state pier? Are their rogue skaters? (I love that term I just invented). Yeah there are, but there are rogue members of every single microcosm wandering the Old Port. Singling out the skaters is just stereotyping and it’s wrong. Two things the city could have done to lessen this problem: One, they should have taken the money from the sale of the land where the old park was and put it towards another skate park. And they should have put together a board (pun intended) of skaters to have a say in where they want their park and what they’d like it to be. From what I’ve read, the city of Portland did neither.

Maybe the city should be more aggressive and issue tickets to those few “rogue skaters” who do cause problems. It would deter others from causing problems. Also, does the city really need to spend $6,000 on cobblestones to curtail a few skaters? Wouldn’t that money be better spent on a new skate park closer to the Old Port? If the city was allowed to ban skate boarding on Exchange Street before, why can’t they do it again? I’m sure the ban is cheaper than $6,000. So how about instead of trying to criminalize every person who rides a skate board, we try to find a way to all work together to solve the problem.

(And for the record, I do NOT ride a skate board. I can barely stand on one in a stationary position without almost killing myself. So, this is not a self-serving post, just my observation.)

I'll Be Back

I am taking a mental/emotional health break. I will be back in June when things settle down. Happy Spring and as always, thank you for reading.

Not a Winner, but Still the Best

I'm not good when I don't win. I wouldn't say I'm a sore loser because I generally keep my contempt to myself. And I also don't like the word loser. I don't think not winning makes you a loser. I didn't win the Best Local Blog in the Best of Portland Awards this year. It was my third nomination and it would have been my second win. The first year, I didn't even know I was nominated, I found out by reading the paper. Last year, I didn't mind not winning because I actually liked the blog that won (it beat me this year too), but I'm not going to plug it on here because they'll get enough kudos for the win itself. This year I wanted to win for a few reasons. One, I deserved it. 2008 was a life changing year for me. I chronicled those events and the effect it had on my life in my blog. I pour my entire heart and soul into my blog. Second, it would have been a great tribute to my mother and a way to put a final bit of closure on it. I also wanted to win, because it would have really lifted my spirits. Though I don't always show it, well rarely show it in public, I'm quite upset about John leaving. I support him 100% but it doesn't make it any easier for me to let him go. I didn't win. I wish I had. I'm sure the sting will wear off in a few days. I'm not going to campaign for it next year. Either my blog will win on it's own accord or it won't. But I won't send out emails requesting everyone and their brother vote for me.

Thank you to everyone who reads my blog and to everyone who went out of their way to vote for me and to get their friends to vote for me. Your support means the most to me. However, I may take a bit of a blog break for a little while. Probably just a few weeks. I need some time to clear my head and my heart and get myself back on track. And for once, I'm not going to chronicle it on here. I'll be back, probably later in May. I plan on having a great summer here in Maine and I will definitely tell the tales on here, but I just need a little break.

For the past 5 years I've done a lot of freelance graphic design work and I'm damn good at it. Yeah, I'm tooting my own horn. I taught myself and have come a long way. However, I put the "free" in freelance. What most people don't realize is that each project I do usually takes anywhere from 1-3 hours to complete....well to perfect. My last freelance project is on the books right now and after that, I'll be taking a break from that as well. Other people make a lot of money doing what I do and it's time my creative talents started generating some income. No offense meant to anyone I've done work for, but I just can't give my talent away anymore. I'm not saying I'm going to charge what the pros do, but I should be compensated for my time, talent and effort. I think what started to bother me was that people just started assuming I would do my projects for free. I was never even offered a few bucks. Nothing. And often, I was expected to keep making changes to projects long after I had completed it. Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth. Flask will be my only freelance customer going forward. Jes has been very good to me and she loves my work and often compensates me and never asks for changes. She's a great friend and a great customer. Small Clarification: None of the offenders of the above paragraph read my blog or my Facebook page. I would never use my blog in such a passive/aggressive way. I have spoken to the offenders about this purposely. I just wanted to make that clear. If you read my blog, then this paragraph does not apply to you at all. I'm always happy to help out with fliers for fundraisers and charity organizations. Got it? Good. :)

Again, thank you for reading. I'll be back. Next time you hear from me, I'll be living in the new house and will probably have a new puppy. Until then, keep the peace, perpetuate kindness and concentrate on the good and don't give the negative any more energy than it deserves.

Wil Whalen