Time Slips By
1981: How sad. How tragic. Why? As Gaby lies dying in the hospital, she looks at me weakly and says, “Honey, do you remember that morning in Madrid when I was so critical of those two young boys? Well, I’ve learned a lot since then”. She looks at me searchingly and takes my hand. “I want you to do me a favor, Sweetheart. You love to write." She hesitates and struggles for breath. "Do this for me. Write about the gay men and women in this world...what they go through, how they live and how they cope. Write about how and why they become homosexual. Write about the different types of gay men and women. Make it an...make it..." She gasps for air. "Make it...make it in the form of...of an anthology of short stories."
I nod sadly and promise to do what she asked.
"And Honey, don't name it 'Why?'. Call it 'Why not'. But more im...important... share your true calling. Your music!" She closes her eyes with a peaceful smile.
Early the next morning, Gaby passes away...same date as our wedding, 27 years later: May 28th. Only 52 years of age...never got to see her two sons married...never got to see her six grandchildren. How much of this was my fault? She was happy in all of the rooms of the house...except the bedroom.
So she knew. When did she first suspect? Could she possibly have noticed my staring at this good looking guy in the Paris cafe or...later on at the swimming pool, could she have looked up from her reading and spotted me on line talking to that same guy? And what about our brief argument there by that little park in Madrid when we both saw those two young boys making love? Or when she noticed this Greek soldier in Athens flirting with me? And could she have wondered how I spent my free evenings when I was traveling for New Departure?
Looking back, I wonder if we both might have been happier if I had told her early on, even if it ended in divorce. At least Gaby would have had a chance to meet someone who had a true, passionate attraction for her...perhaps she could have remarried. And looking back further, should I have backed out from the very beginning, which certainly crossed my mind at the time and as my friend at the Quality Hill Towers had suggested. But now it's too late. She's gone!
I had read somewhere that unhappiness and stress can have dire effects on the body...that the blood cells become "distressed", run amuck and can sometimes cause cancer! Could this have happened to Gaby? So many times she would be lying next to me in bed and I could hear her sobbing. One night she said, "Honey, I didn't get married to live the life of a nun. I feel as though we're living like sister and brother! Is it me? Am I not attractive to you? Maybe you should see a doctor!" And then I would make up my mind: tonight we've got to have sex! I would be thinking about this all through my working day, trying desperately to "psyche" myself.
I remember my thoughts just before our wedding. I could sense "a black cloud" in the horizon. What will our nights be like...sharing our bed? Will I be able to perform? Am I doing the right thing or should I back out while there's still time?”
And then I thought about that conversation with my neighbor friend at the apartment. I remember him saying, "Gaby's a wonderful gal, I'll say that. It's just not fair to her. I mean, why do people get married in the first place? Sex!"
And those friendly words from the professor. "George, you're marrying a wonderful girl! She has everything a man can ever want. I knew that when I first met her in Lima! You're a lucky man! Take care of her, Son. Be good to her. Make your marriage a happy, worthwhile blessing! A marriage made in heaven! And have lots of happy, healthy babies!"
In the months and years that followed, I found myself missing her smile. Her sense of humor. Her blue eyes. Sharing meals with her. Laughing with her at a movie. And "Honey, honey! That's your song!" And the cigarette lighter on the way to Winstead's. And her mouthing. "Your fly's open".

1983: For a change in environment, during my two-week vacation, I take a Caribbean cruise. I find myself bored and lonely. At meal-time I am surrounded by a group of females. Trying to make the situation interesting and bearable, I pretend that I am extremely wealthy, starting with having a worried expression. After being asked, "Is anything wrong?" I respond, "Well, to be frank with you...I own this yacht currently on a maiden voyage in the Meditteranean and I'm concerned about the inexperienced crew on board." Following that statement, I notice an immediate change in their attitude. Each one was coyly vying for my attention...not that I really wanted it or needed it. All just for my own amusement! The cruise was too long and I was glad when it was over!
I meet Alex by chance. Extremely attractive...in fact in his spare time he was a model for several magazines. We enjoy a very brief but beautiful relationship. For the first time since I can remember, I am at peace with myself! I can be me and I don't have to pretend. One evening Alex and I join my son and daughter-in-law for dinner at the Italian Gardens. Throughout dinner, she and Alex stare at each other in the mirror. She is wondering why I am associating with this handsome, young man. Later that evening, my son calls me and asks, “Dad...is Alex...gay?” Without thinking and tired of those life-long charades, I blurt out, "Yes. And so am I!" His response: long silence, followed by, "Are we your sons? Did Mom know?" This put a halt to our future relationship!
After knowing Alex for seven months, he accepts a job advancement and is transferred to California.

1985: Directly after New Years I receive my retirement papers from TWA. The very first Monday of my retirement, I feel terribly alone in my oversize house. Time passes by slowly. As the days drag by, I gradually become depressed with nothing to do and no particular place to go. I read. I watch TV. I take extended naps to pass the time. The more I nap, the more tired I get and the more tired I get, the more I nap. Is this all there is going to be in my life? Chronic depression? Eventually I think about stuffing towels around the garage door, sitting in the car and turning on the ignition. I would fall asleep quietly and there would be no pain.
And then a miracle saves me! I receive a call from TWA about three weeks after my "firing", inviting me to come back because there was a lot of work that just wasn't getting done and would I consider returning on a temporary basis, receiving the same pay as before but without the side benefits? I jump at the opportunity!
Next three years: routine. Go to work, come home. Grab a bite... sometimes in, some times out. Very little incentive, drive or inspiration to compose. Maybe a song here and there reflecting my mood changes, e.g., "If It's the Last Thing I Do", "I Got This Thing about You", "A Lazy 01' Man", "Every Day the Same" and several others. But not like it used to be when I was sharing evenings with Dorothy back in the mid-1940's! Weekends are long and lonely. I'm thinking, “What is wrong with me? I've been here in Kansas City nearly half my life now and I have very few friends.. More like acquaintances. I do realize, however, that they each have their own lives."
The last Saturday evening in November, 1988, I decide to grab a bite at McDonald's and then go to a downtown gay bar called “The Windjammer”. Actually, I hated the gay bars. It seemed that there was always wheeling and dealing going on. Mad scrambles to find a "date"before the bar closes. Alcohol! Drugs, buying and selling!
He looks at me and smiles. "Hi."
I return the smile. "Hi." Immediate attraction!
"How ya doin'?"
"Great! You?"
"Okay, I guess. Name's Rick.”
“George.”
We shake hands and exchange smiles. He asks, “So what do you do?”
"I'm an engineer with TWA. You?"
"Oh nothing in particular. Guess I'm sort of a free spirit, you might say!"
"Oh Really? Must be nice."
"Well, you know. That all depends."
"On finding the right person, I suppose."
"Never hurts to try!"
As the night progresses, our conversation grows more personal and intimate, ultimately resulting in Rick’s following me to my house in his old car. It's bitter cold outside and when we arrive at my driveway, he accidentally locks his car with the keys inside. I go in the house and bring out a coat hangar. We laugh and we finally get the door to open. This small incident seemed to break the ice!
In early January Rick moves in with me. Very little clothing. No furniture except one souvenir from his home: a beautiful wood-framed, oval mirror that he treasured.
I enjoy his company. He's fun and we enjoy watching the old classic movies together and belly-laughing our heads off, especially watching TV re-runs like "I Love Lucy" and "The Carroll Burnett Show". He's a good cook and we eat in more than we eat out. Sharing life with Rick however, turns out to be nothing short of a roller coaster!

The Positive Sides
My wonderful schnauzer, JR (purchase was his suggestion)
Being an excellent cook.
The fun of buying/refurbishing classic cars and selling them, although most often at a loss
Being there when I had major health problems (two hip replacements, etc.)
Being there for me when my TWA job was terminated in 1990
Both flying to New York to see Broadway show "Cats". (Also rented a car and drove to Elizabeth because I wanted to see the house where I had lived most of my life)
Negotiating for lesser price when buying Yamaha electronic dual-keyboard
Redecorating the house to raise sales value
Selling property in 1993
Relocating to a cozy apartment of his choice and redecorating (we both agreed that we didn’t need that much space in the four-bedroom, two-bathroom house)
Purchase of a keepsake: a super-clean 1985 XJ6 Jaguar, 30,000 mi. at time of purchase
Buying a computer at a reasonable price and teaching me how to use it
Recording my music from organ to floppy discs and encouraging me to write more
Just being there, rain or shine

The Negative Sides
As the years roll by, I begin to resent, on an ever-increasing basis, the role Rick placed me in...that of being his sole provider! I try desperately to make him realize that he has a debt to society and to me...that people have to work for a living. "Get a JOB!" became almost a daily theme. But Rick knew that in order for him to do so, it would necessitate his giving up his dependency upon alcohol and drugs. So...just to keep peace in the "family", I continue to foot the bill on his rent, food, clothing, entertainment and, worst of all, his substance abuse. This was the price I was willing to pay for his companionship. There were times, however, that I thought of asking him to leave but I was afraid that he would end up homeless and on the street. I just couldn't do that! He had family, but they were non-caring and non-supportive, obviously because of his sexual orientation.
When we first met, and for a long time thereafter, Rick managed sobriety very well and he functioned normally. But then!

Tragedy Strikes!
It was on a Sunday, about 10 A.M., November 29, 1998. Rick had just turned on the shower when I announced that I was taking JR for a walk around the complex, and I heard him say, "Okay." The moment I returned to the apartment there was an urgent knock on the door. A neighbor below me announced in a panicky voice that water was trickling down into his apartment! I immediately ran to the bathroom but the door was locked. I rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a screwdriver, ran back to the bathroom and after a brief struggle, I managed to open the door slowly, afraid of what I might see. My heart was beating wildly.
What I saw was a grizzly, horrific nightmare that will remain in my mind as long as I live! Rick was half-submerged in the bathtub, dressed in his underwear. The water was still running full blast! Blood was splattered all over the walls and along the sides of the tub. Rick had shot himself! With a gun we had bought when we first moved into the apartment...something that I had completely forgotten about.
My neighbor immediately followed me into the bathroom, turned off the water, ordered me to sit down in the livingroom and called 911. I was trembling uncontrollably and I was sick to my stomach.
In a matter of minutes I heard sirens and the police stormed into the apartment. A woman in uniform sat down next to me with a clipboard, ready to take notes. She asked me if I had heard the gunshot and I told her, with tears in my eyes, that I was in the midst of taking my dog for his morning walk and that I did not hear the shot. During the questioning, I saw Rick's body being carried away in a white, plastic body bag.

After the Tragedy
1998 to Present: It took me many months to "adjust" my moods and my attitude toward living and life itself. Two things helped me through this: the unconditional love from my dog, JR, and my love for music. I rearranged my personal finances so that I could be in the position to produce a CD of my own original music.

Starting in August of 2001, through October of 2002, fifteen original songs of a wide variety were studio-recorded by a host of professional musicians. This ambitious project saved my sanity!