CJK

We share these memories. But I also remember Charlie Brown doing both fundraising and outreach for AIDS patients before just about anyone else. I remember his working at Burkhart's behind the bar, not in drag, and pleading with customers to donate unused winter coats for AIDS patients. While drag might not be something I particularly go out of my way to watch, Charlie Brown and the other drag queens from the eighties and early nineties deserve our respect and thanks, 

I lived in ATL from 1986 until recently and practically grew up going to SR from when it first opened in the old Howard Johnsons - that building later became the Mouse House - through the move down the street and that area becoming gentrified. There was one dancer who was there for most of that time and I remember when the guy who now owns Johnson's was a dancer at SR, I do hope it reopens. 
I went to college in DC and remember the Pier very well. They would have college events on Saturday nights and slip promotional cards under our dorm room doors. Every straight college student in DC would be there. (For the younger set, the drinking age in DC was 18 until Oct 1982, at which time it went up one day at a time for the next three years. We could drink beer or wine only, so bars would use huge black magic markers to draw big black Xs between your thumb and index finger on each hand, We would go to the bathroom, take out the small tube of toothpaste we brought in and scrub off what we called the chicken marks.)
I also remember O St quite fondly. I would ride my bike there from the dorm once or twice a week. There would often be political VIPs looking for action, including the head of a well known PAC who seemed to live there. I also love the theater that was next door to the bathhouse, upstairs. I used to go there to see porn stars perform on Sunday afternoons and once met and fucked Joey Stefano in front of an auditorium full of men. 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

Little did we know that Ted Haggard reads and posts to this board!
My contribution is in a similar vein, but from the other side. It was late at night. August 1989. I was driving from Philly to Bethlehem, PA. The route takes you through Quakertown. When stopped at a light, a guy in a station wagon pulls up next to me and motions for my attention. He was likely in his thirties, not all that hot, but it was the only offer I was going to get that night, so I followed him behind a furniture store, got out of my car and we started going at it. Clothes were quickly off, and he was eating my cock like he was starving. 
Suddenly a police car pulled up. We were screwed. They asked for our licenses and car registrations. We sat in silence until the cops came back. Addressing the other guy, one cop asked, "Father, is the station wagon registered to the church?" Holy crap, i was doing the deed with a priest. I am going to burn in hell. The police officer then said he did not want to arrest a priest, so he was letting him walk. The cop turned to me and said since he was letting the priest go, he had to let me go, too. 

Little did we know that Ted Haggard reads and posts to this board!
My contribution is in a similar vein, but from the other side. It was late at night. August 1989. I was driving from Philly to Bethlehem, PA. The route takes you through Quakertown. When stopped at a light, a guy in a station wagon pulls up next to me and motions for my attention. He was likely in his thirties, not all that hot, but it was the only offer I was going to get that night, so I followed him behind a furniture store, got out of my car and we started going at it. Clothes were quickly off, and he was eating my cock like he was starving. 
Suddenly a police car pulled up. We were screwed. They asked for our licenses and car registrations. We sat in silence until the cops came back. Addressing the other guy, one cop asked, "Father, is the station wagon registered to the church?" Holy crap, i was doing the deed with a priest. I am going to burn in hell. The police officer then said he did not want to arrest a priest, so he was letting him walk. The cop turned to me and said since he was letting the priest go, he had to let me go, too. 

It’s like looking in the mirror through a crystal ball. 

I strongly resemble my father. My mother developed macular degeneration in old age, and by her late 90s she was close to being blind. A few times when I entered her room in the nursing home, she confused me with my father and called me by his name.
My mother had a photo of my father in his early 20s hanging next to her bed in the nursing home. One of the nurses commented to me once, "You were a very handsome young man" (I was in my 60s by then). I accepted the compliment rather than point out that the photo had obviously been taken at least 70 years earlier.

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

I will throw in a few more grandma stories - 
When she was in the nursing home, I went to visit one summer morning. She had a bulletin board with some pictures. I recognized some of the people but not some others. Grandma looked at me at said I looked good for someone who had been dead for forty years. She said a few other odd things. Then I realized the man she was standing with in one of the pics was her late husband. My grandfather died five years before I was born. He was wearing a one-piece full bathing suit. I have his calves, his eyes and his lack of hairline, although he worked one strand all over his head and I shave my head. She thought I was my grandfather. 
Her room had a small TV. Shortly after I got there Regis and Kathy Lee went on the air. Not knowing what to say, I pointed out Suzanne Somers was substituting for KL Gifford. My grandmother looked up and said, "She is an idiot." While everyone insisted she was thinking of someone who slighted her in 1948, I truly believe my grandmother's last lucid words to me were that Suzanne Somers is an idiot. 
Shortly after she got to the nursing home she told me Goldie Hawn visited her. I listened, smiled and nodded. Weeks later my mom mentioned that Hawn's father or grandfather was in the same home and grandma had met her. 
One of the first signs she was getting dementia - She lived in NYC and my aunts lived in DC. She was flying down to visit. My aunt went to the airport to pick her up. No grandma. My aunt waited for several Eastern Shuttle flights. No grandma. Finally someone from the airline called my aunt's partner (my aunt lived with the same woman from 1964 on) and said my grandmother had been riding the shuttle back and forth all day. She would get to National, forget why she was there, fly back to LaGuardia and start the trek over. 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

Thought others might find this story about my grandmother and gay men interesting. She was considered pretty liberal in her thinking, but things have changed so much that now she would be canceled...
In the eighties my grandmother began suffering dementia. In late May 1986 she moved into an assisted living facility with around the clock personal care. Thanksgiving week was the first time I was able to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I got there. After quickly saying hello, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. In that brief moment I noticed her hair was a disaster. It was dyed its usual fake blond in the front but undyed in the back where she could not see. There was a small salon next to the men's room where this abomination must have happened. 
When I returned to my grandmother and her aide in the lobby a man came over. He may have been the most flamboyant man I've ever met. He said how much they enjoyed having my grandmother living there. When he walked away, I asked who he was. My grandmother said he is the hairdresser. I laughed to myself thinking he was responsible for my grandmother's hair.
Fast forward to 1992. My grandmother was moving to a nursing home. My sister, mom, two aunts and I were packing up her apartment and the flamboyant man stopped by to visit like he did every time one of us was there. He said they would miss her and we should still stop by to visit. When he left I said the obvious - he cannot do hair worth crap but the facility was lucky to have a hairdresser who cared about the patents so much. Suddenly the four women were staring at me. My aunt asked, "A what?" I repeated myself. My aunt said, "He is not a hairdresser, he is the director. What made you think he is a hairdresser?" My response, "Grandma told me." To which my aunt said, "He is a gay man. Your grandmother thinks all gay men are hairdressers!"
 
 

I remember when there was no Blockbuster. Or VCRs. We got our first VCR in 1984 when I was already in college. Neighbors got theirs in 1977 which was pretty early.
We had B&W TVs in my earliest memories. One day, my dad, who was doctor, mad a housecall to patients who lived in a poor section of town and who he knew were on public assistance. They had a brand-new color TV. My dad thought if they could have a color TV then their doctor should be able to have a color TV. He and my mom went to Penn Furniture the next day and bought a console TV. 
Note: two more things I remember: Housecalls and console TVs.

we had one of these in sixth grade. You typed out your input on either a ribbon, which i think is on the left the pic, or on punch cards. You dialed a rotary phone (we did not get push button phone in our town until the next year) and listened for the beeps, then rested the phone receiver in a foam rubber cradle and ran your tapes or cards. The result came back and you disconnected so as to not waste computer time. 
There were five of the units in the district; one in the high school three in the junior highs and the one in our classroom. We took a field trip to the VoTech to see the actual computer. It filled a pretty good size room.
Some kids at the VoTech tried to sell us sixth graders quaaludes, so there is a second memory of something I remember - when quaaludes were the drug of choice!
 

hand crank phones and party lines. (we had a neighbor who still had both so I actually know how to dial on the hand crank!)
Despite being born in 1964, I do not remember having a TV antenna. Our rural mountain area had one of the earliest cable systems. Those without cable could only get one station. With 1964 cable we could get five stations - WFBG Altoona CBS, WJAC Johnstown NBC, WPSX Phillipsburg/State College PBS and the mystery channel, which could be KDKA or WPGH or WQED from Pittsburgh... If there was something you wanted to see you could call the cable company and if nobody had made a request for that time already they would play what you requested. In 1979 the system grew to twelve stations and, if you paid for a box, ESPN, Headline News (Westinghouse), ESPN, TBS and the Movie Channel.