There was “something else” before the “bulge”.

There was “something else” before the “bulge”..


Public and private

There are things about me that I would not publish on fb. I’m not willing to share my most private thoughts and feelings with everybody, and a recent posting my son wrote on wp has confirmed this. It seems that only peope who are looking will find me in wp. Only people who are really interested will read my blogs – and I don’t connect my wp blogs to fb!

There was “something else” before the “bulge”.

5th grade. 10 years old. I knew how flowers make seeds (I was botanically inclined), but I hadn’t thought yet about animal or – gasp – human reproduction. Then kind, generous Uncle Bub gave me a demonstration. That was very interesting and I didn’t really suspect it was wrong for him to do this, although he did warn me not to tell my mother. You know, women are jealous if men have fun with each others dinks and don’t involve them. Mothers are required to enforce this for Womanhood in general.

Should I curse him, and hope he’s burning in hell for this? I know my mother did, and I certainly don’t now blame her for that. And yes, he did screw me up for life. At least I assume that’s where my fetishist fantasies about performing oral sex on men come from, but at least he didn’t harm me physically. After vigorously working it over with his mouth he would give me a quarter dollar telling me my 10 yr. old dink was already beginning to look more grown up! I was saddened when my mother put an end to the relationship. My father couldn’t deal with her demand to kill Uncle Bub and just sank into alcoholic oblivion. Mother revealed that last detail to me after I turned 50.

I remember how I reacted at the age of about 25 when I heard about John Gacy in Chicago and how they found under his front porch the buried remains  of 28 young boys he’d had “fun” with. This is when I began to mull over the long repressed memories of Uncle Bub. I was already married then – and am today still married to the same woman. I can’t imagine life without her.

Sometimes I think I would have been better off to have been abused by a Catholic priest – then I could benefit from free counselling and the rewards of a class action suit. I don’t suppose I can sue the insurance company Uncle Bub worked for.

The Distracting Bulge

“The Distracting Bulge”

My real talent in life has always been language – my native tongue English as well as foreign languages. On the other hand math has always given me problems. I seem to have developed a real aversion to it at some time. I suspect it has something to do with the step by step concentration required to keep up in school. If you miss one of the steps it’s hard to go on and master further steps. Language is not the same. It’s much less linear – if you miss a chapter on some grammatical aspect you can still pick it up later from the total mass of knowledge you’ve acquired.

I constantly missed a few steps in the math learning process because my math teacher was also the football coach; very strong and masculine. I was only in the 8th grade but I was constantly distracted from comprehending math by the prominent bulge in his trousers. My 7th grade teacher had been a pretty young woman, and I participated with my friends in the silly talk about what her boobs looked like under her blouse. But she didn’t really distract me from math. My foreign language teachers were mostly very intelligent and civilized women, except for the older man I had one year as a French teacher, but he was skinny and his breath was so bad that I never developed any distracting feelings for him.

My math teacher! Why didn’t I develop an attraction for the subject he was trying to teach me? I began to see the math teacher in my fantasies when the word “masterful” came to mind at highly erotic moments of solitude. I never consciously thought about it, but I knew I couldn’t confide in my friends about my feelings. At that age a lot of silliness goes on between boys, but it was my idea for us to take each others’ still undeveloped penises into our mouths. But now that we were developing men’s-sized equipment none of them wanted to do that anymore – and I couldn’t push the issue because then they would begin to get the idea that I wasn’t just fooling around but really queer. Shades of the scarlet letter! In 1965 in rural Massachusetts that would have made me a social pariah and free game for anyone who wanted to beat me up; after all it was still technically illegal in Massachusetts until 1974!

Hard to imagine today getting arrested because of a blow job in private.

The deed is done – I’m a German

I am now a German citizen. How do I feel? Not much different than I did before when I was an American citizen living here in Germany with a permanent residency and work permit – but a little bit. I am now of American origin, but I am a German. Germany has adopted me and I now have the name “Germany” on my passport. The change is subtle but noticeable. Should someone refer to me as the “Ami” I correct them immediately that I am now the “Neu-Deutscher”. Mostly I have been congratulated on taking this step by Americans and Germans alike – with a few exceptions. One man congratulated me and added, “I hope that a year from now you will still feel you have made the right choice”. Would you say to someone who just got married, “In a year from now I hope you will still feel that you married the right person”? One German said it was inconceiveable for him to give up ones citizenship of birth. This person was born, raised and spent his entire life in the same small town –   I also could not imagine him giving up his citizenship, but I am in a different situation. An American citizen friend who has also lived as long as I have in Germany criticized my move, but he has also lived for 20 years with a woman he is not married to. I am a different kind of person. I married the girl I loved and have been married for 35 years, and I have become a citizen of the place where I have made my home for the last 22 years. Oh Toto! There’s no place like home!

The official act

Today is the day we will receive the certificates of German citizenship. Will it feel any different when we have them? I compare it to getting married after having lived with someone for a long time. The official act merely recognizes a feeling that has been growing over a long period of time – that our home is here, in Upper Franconia, in the Franconian Woods in our little village in our little weaver’s cottage.

I am not turning my back on the USA

No, I’m not turning my back on the USA. This is just the logical consequence to a string of coincidences. When we came to Germany in January 1989 I never thought we would still be here in 2012. But who thought in January of 1989 that the reunification of Germany and the demise of the Soviet Union was imminent. I was thrilled to come to Hof, Germany as the regional border liaison officer for the US Army, but after the border was opened I soon found my job redundant. I had no idea where I would end up next, and when by coincidence a job offer in the export sales department of a local textile company came up, I took it. Then we needed to find our own house, and I jumped at the first thing that I could afford – a little weaver’s cottage in a small village in the Franconian Woods. I wasn’t really thrilled about the job, but our house and the village and the warm reception we received convinced me. Now it’sImage

been over twenty years and we are here to stay. I don’t feel that I have turned my back on the USA. I feel more like a son who has moved away from Mom and Dad, found the love of his life and now is going to make it official.

Good Bye USA

On June 5th 2012 I had an appointment at the US Consulate in Munich to renounce my US citzenship. Previous to this I had filled out a lot of paperwork to apply for German citizenship as well as taking a test of my knowledge of the basic social, cultural and political structure of the Federal Republic of Germany. It’s a standard test with 33 multiple choice questions taken randomly from a pool of about 350 questions. I got 31 correct – almost no one applying for German citizenship ever fails this test. After submitting my application and the test results I received a certificate that I have been approved to become a German citizen as soon as I have renounced my US citizenship. It is not possible to have US and German citizenships together. That’s why I had to go to the consulate, renounce my US citizenship and then wait for a certificate of loss of citizenship from the State Department in Washington. This took nine weeks. I have since submitted the certificate of loss of citizenship to the county commissioner’s office that is handling my case and I am waiting for them to issue me a certificate of German citizenship with which I can apply for a personal identity card and a passport. Because we live in a rural area, and everyone knows me, the county commissioner has said he would come to our local town hall and personally present me with the certificate of citizenship. We will invite all our friends and make a big celebration out of it.

I will continue to comment on this subject, collecting the relevant posts under the category “Good Bye USA”

My Virgin Entry

My son Phillip has encouraged me to start a blog. Of course, I have written much in the past, but nothing in a blog. Most of what I’ve written is autobiographical – almost more of a form of self-therapy where I have tried to work through experiences in my life. I’ve thought about writing a book using my own life as a source. It seems this is becoming more and more common these days. I read most of The New Yorker every week so I have seen this trend develop. It could just be a bit embarrassing to hang my dirty wash out in a blog for everyone to see.

OK, my thought for today. I just bought a CD containing two Eartha Kitt albums from 1962 and 1965. It was an impulsive purchase, because I remembered that I was somehow fascinated by her when I was a young boy. I guess it was her appearances as the cat woman on the old batman TV series. I had also seen her sing on TV at some point as well. The thought that occurred to me today was that she really was far sexier and more talented than Marilyn Monroe and only racism can explain why Marilyn Monroe was more famous. If you don’t know anything about Eartha Kitt, then have a look around!