By Lee Lynch
We had every intention of being homebodies this year. No travel at all, just a year to save our pennies and get grounded. It’s been delicious. After several months of staying in our little coastal home, my mind is sharper, my sleep schedule is approaching normal, and I’ve got a good start on my next book.
Then, something just as wonderful happened. The publishers of Sapphire Books invited us to be part of “Literary Adventures at Sea,” a program they put together with Olivia Cruises, which is being sponsored by Curve Magazine. I admit that I cried when we were asked. Two of our best friends urged us to join them. My sweetheart and I never ever dreamed we could go on a cruise. This one is sailing the inland passage of Alaska. Alaska! Growing up my parents’ apartment in Queens, I never thought I’d travel farther than Manhattan.
After six and a half years, I’ve managed to amass an extensive archive of interviews. I’ll be offering up one from the vault every week or so. Here’ s an interview that first ran at LGBTSr in December, 2011, with iconic author Patricia Nell Warren, a personal literary hero of mine. – Mark McNease/Editor
By Mark McNease
I came out at 16 in a small Indiana city of 30,000 people. It was 1974, and I was deeply hungry for images of myself as a gay person. There wasn’t much available then, aside from books I ordered from the Psychology Today book club, some of which did more harm than good. Then came a novel called “The Front Runner” about the love story between a young college athlete and his coach. The book gave me hope and, along with the few others I could find, let me know I was not alone in the world.
It’s always One Thing or Another … a lighthearted look at aging, life, and the absurdities of it all.
By Mark McNease
There are shadows overhead for all of us, and we sometimes live our lives as if those shadows will suddenly grow larger and darker as something dreadful finally swoops down to take us away. But we can choose another way.
I can’t name a specific date and time, but at some point the past few months I stopped paying attention to the news beyond what I need to stay informed. Is there a significant natural disaster nearby I need to know about? Has a foreign invader breached our northern shores? Have scientists discovered that drinking eight cups of coffee a day leads to a long life or that it causes permanent memory loss? There’s the local political stuff I want to know about, like who the next governor of New Jersey might be, even though I haven’t registered yet to vote here, and which dismal choice I’ll have to make next year for health insurance. But the overall big picture, the cloud of dread and anxiety that is our current 24/7 news cycle? I just can’t indulge in it anymore. Very little of it uplifts me and much of it depresses me. It’s as if, given the possibility we are not living in the end times, we’ve collectively decided to make it appear as if we are, like that Buck Owens and Roy Clark song I remember from Hee Haw, “Gloom, despair, and agony on me …”