My dad has always liked to talk. Not chit chat really, no, he likes to deliver monologues. I picture him at this moment sitting outside in his backyard, smoking his pipe and creating his next aural opus to expound whenever someone takes the time to listen.

Usually the topic is politics or his worklife, but sometimes it is on some random topic such as photography or his past. It is a sampling of these monologues that I would like to bring to you now:

“There are just some things that disgust me. For example, did you know our government pays money to make obscene photographs? There is this guy Robert Mapplethorpe who actually takes pictures of men peeing in each other’s mouths. Or another picture of himself with some sort of rope shoved up his rear end. I am not kidding, he has literally taken rooms full of pictures of men in various degrading or sexual situations. And he won an NEA grant. Can you believe it? Peeing in another man’s mouth.”

(although i had no way to investigate these claims at the time, i always remembered the name robert mapplethorpe as someone i would like to look up and view these glorious images. did people really drink pee? i didn’t really want to try it but i was anxious to see it. i’m sure i was about 13 at the time.)

“I remember living on the corner of Polk street. It was in what they called the ‘Meat-Packing District.’ Men would line the streets looking to attract the attention of other men. Like peacocks. Prancing in leather or tight denim. I would sometimes just go out to the corner to watch as these gloriously decorated people moved about looking for companionship. Who knows what kind of debauchery happened once they left the street…. But they were very interesting to see.”

(i sat silent while he told me this. recording terms like “meat-packing” and “peacocks” for later use when i finally was old enough to leave home. should i go to san francisco i wondered?)

“Boys don’t kiss other boys on the lips.”

(this truth was told to me when i was like 4 or 5 and offering my father a goodnight kiss. it seems i had planted one upon his mouth as he bent over me and he reacted instinctively.)

I talk of these things not to paint a picture of my father as a homophobe or insensitive man, just to illustrate the power of words as they are told from one to another. My father’s statements gave me inspiration, and once I found myself he has welcomed me with open arms. However, he has no idea how I may have perceived him or his words when he spoke them. We should always pay attention to the person we are speaking to. What is he hearing you say?