Charlie

Boys?

The way the lists were presented gave the impression that both lists were for cities of more than 300,000, not that a different metric was used for the definition of "city" in the second list. The state of Virginia confuses the question even further with its concept of "independent cities." Until the 1960s, Virginia Beach was simply the principal town in Princess Anne County; then the state decided to abolish the county, and incorporate everything within its boundaries into an "independent city" called Virginia Beach. Much of the original county was actually outlying suburban development for Norfolk, another independent city. Like most American metropolitan areas, the suburbs grew faster than the central city, so Virginia Beach is now larger than Norfolk in population. But it doesn't have much of the character of a "city" in the usual sense, beyond the number of residents. Forbes' #2 "safest city" is actually still mostly a big residential suburb, with a tourist-oriented beach, while Norfolk is the more traditional "city." Most demographers consider the two places to be a single conurbation. The same is largely true of #3 Henderson (Las Vegas), #7 Mesa (Phoenix), and #12 Arlington (Dallas/Forth Worth). For anyone looking quickly at the two lists without knowing how the "cities" are defined or what the demographics are, the presentation is misleading.

My point was that defining "cities" solely based on an arbitrary population minimum leads Forbes (or anyone else making this kind of list) to an apples to oranges kind of comparison, since regardless of the number of people who live within the boundaries of a municipality, most people's image of a "city" would not put Mesa or Virginia Beach in the same category with New York. A better comparison would be between cities with obvious similarities, such as NYC vs. LA, or Raleigh vs. Birmingham. (BTW, some of the cities included on their lists don't actually meet the "over 300,000" population that Forbes claims, and Birmingham is one of them.)

Let's see: bush lovers, armpit lovers, sweet smile lovers, big cock lovers....

I lived and worked in Center City Philadelphia for 38 years, and never thought of it as very dangerous, but I've been gone for 20 years. Forbes list of "dangerous" cities consists almost entirely of old cities with stagnant or declining populations and little economic growth, while the "safe" cities are mostly places with explosive recent growth in population and economic growth in tech industries rather than in the traditional downtown. It's odd that Mesa, which used to be considered simply a suburb of Phoenix, makes the "safe" list, while Phoenix, which is the fifth largest city in the US in population, doesn't make the lists at all. I have to laugh at the idea of #2 Virginia Beach as a "large city," because my parents moved there when they retired, and it was basically just a large beach town with no center, and was really a residential suburb of Norfolk, which itself is no longer even big enough to qualify as a "large" city. The idea of using only the residential population within municipal boundaries as the definition of a popularly experienced metro area is the kind of arbitrary metric that often makes me question lists by Forbes.

I came out in 1960, and being gay in the '60s was different for a well-educated urban man in a professional field who didn't appear effeminate than for those who fit an opposite stereotype. I could live with another similar man in a one-bedroom apartment, have lots of anonymous sex, and take an active part in the gay rights movement, and not constantly worry about the possibility of being beaten up or fired from my job solely because someone learned or merely suspected I was gay. Stonewall was not a sudden switch in the environment, but the culmination of a change that had been building up for at least a decade, and that finally broke into social consciousness, especially in urban America. (I suspect that if it had happened in the '50s, the New York Times would not have considered a riot by patrons at a gay bar part of "all the news that's fit to print.") In the mid-'60s I met a somewhat effeminate middle aged gay couple who had gone to prison in rural Pennsylvania in the '50s, simply because a couple of college kids claimed the guys had cruised them in a public place. That kind of persecution wouldn't work in Philadelphia by the '60s, because gay men and women were fighting back, with the help of organizations like the ACLU, and the equal rights movement in the Black community was making everyone--gay and straight--more aware of what was at stake for everyone. The social and legal climate was changing before the laws themselves did. In 1976, I proposed to my dean that I wanted to teach a credit course in gay literature, and he immediately agreed to it; to my pleasant surprise, most of the students who signed up for it were apparently straight, and weren't afraid to have the course on their record.

Me, too.

I studied German with a German professor who loved opera, so he often incorporated it into the course. One semester Tannhauser was one of the works we studied. Long afterwards, I learned that he was gay, and that he used to throw parties at his home for certain male students. I felt insulted that I was never invited to his own little Venusberg, though I'm sure I would have been uncomfortable in that situation, since I found him physically repulsive.

The singers are responding to Landgraf Hermann's request that they explain the nature of "love." Wolfram sings first. The text is not exactly normal German speech--in fact, Wolfram's initial metaphor for love is actually an archaic term for a fountain or spring, which he praises in rhymed couplets--so translations into colloquial English are pretty variable. Wolfram says he wouldn't dare pollute the fountain by tasting it, i.e., having carnal relations, while Tannhauser responds that he wouldn't hesitate to cool his burning lips from the fountain, and in the ensuing interchange between him, Wolfram, Walter and Biterolf, he admits that he has been getting it on with Venus, who is an actual character in the story. If the demonstrators started during Wolfram's initial reference to the "spring" or "fountain," then they were jumping the gun. They probably didn't know German, and as soon as they heard the word "Bronnen" or "Brunnen," they thought that was the signal. They may not have even understood which singer was which character.

I haven't listened to the broadcast, but it is Tannhauser who sings (in a rough translation of the German text) that "love is a spring to be drunk from" in contradiction of Wolfram's characterization of true love as a pure spring which shouldn't be defiled by drinking (i.e., sex). Given that they are singing in opposition to one another at that point, it's quite probable that the demonstration broke out as Wolfram was reacting to Tannhauser.

Tannhauser was the first opera I ever saw--at the old Met on 39th St in 1961.

BTW, being gay probably helped me achieve the dream, because when I was younger, I met men above my social and financial class whom I probably never would have connected with if I had been straight. I also felt no internal pressure to marry and have children, which gave me more freedom to do things that I couldn't have done if I had a family to support. It also helped that I found a partner from a similar background who had similar experience.

I don't see the point of making the protest at an opera. Has the board of the Met refused to put solar panels on the roof?

It depends on how one defines "The American Dream." If one uses the definition posted above, then I did achieve it, in "The American Way:" I got much more formal education than my parents did--they were both high school drop-outs, while I ended up with three higher education degrees from top schools. As a result, I got better-paying stable jobs. That was what my parents dreamed would happen to me. But America also changed over our lifetimes, because unlike my parents, I didn't live through an economic collapse and a Great Depression which forced them to work at whatever jobs they could get to support their parents, who didn't have Social Security to help them survive through the first years of the Depression. I graduated from high school into a thriving post-war economy, which enabled my parents to afford to send me to college, when tuition, room and board at a good private college cost less than $2000/year. Of course, I did my part by getting good grades, which got me scholarships and work-study jobs that minimized what it cost my parents, and my first graduate degree was covered entirely by a fellowship. Sociologists would probably have described my parents as respectable lower-middle class. I would probably be considered lower-upper-middle class, based on my education, work history, social connections and financial assets. Their/my dream came true. The question is whether the members of an American family today could rise in the same way by the same means.

Seriously. I thought she had died a few years ago.

I wonder if his preferred pronoun is "they."

I didn't realize she was still alive.

I came out at 17, so most of my early experiences were with "older men." However, the article defines "older men" the same way I did then: men in their 40s to 60s. Not geezers, like I am now! (BTW, those "older men" are the ones I am still attracted to, not those young enough to be my grandsons.)

"Hello?" "Yes, this is Marlon Brando."

Surprisingly, I have known dogs named Otis, Scout, Diego, Bailey, Buster, and we adopted a dog already named Duke.

In 1984 my partner and I bought a new Toyota Corolla to replace our old one. In 1985, we happened to get an unexpected financial windfall. I wanted to put the money into a retirement account. He said, "No, I want to buy a Mercedes." I asked why, since we had just bought a new car. He said, "I would like to own a really nice car for once in my life." So I gave in, and for the next 23 years we owned only Mercedes sedans, which were a pleasure to drive. When the last one was twelve years old and had 113 thousand miles on it, we decided to get something more practical, so we bought a Toyota Prius. I hated driving it. When we were ready for our next car, we went back to the Mercedes dealer, and bought an SUV. After six years, I was sick of the expense of the constant services and gas guzzling. A year ago, we traded it for a relative cheap Nissan SUV (in fact, it cost more than our first Mercedes). I have no regrets, because to my surprise, I think it handles much better than the Mercedes, and it gets much better gas mileage. And besides, the Mercedes didn't make our cocks any bigger.

It is mostly tree pollen and grass pollen for me. This happens to be the time of year when old grass is scalped and winter grass is seeded in Palm Springs, particularly on the numerous golf courses. It also is when the gardeners go crazy with tree trimming.

I started playing tennis in my 60s simply because it was exercise that I enjoyed doing. It wasn't until I had been doing it for several years that I saw the first article about a study that showed that regular tennis players were less like to injure themselves in a fall than non-players. Aside from the aerobic and muscle exercise, sprinting around a court hitting moving balls improves a person's balance and ability to react quickly to his or her environment. The disadvantage, of course, is the potential for injury to hip/ankle/wrist joints from improper repetitive usage. I play for two hours three days per week, and I have never had a serious fall, on the court or off, even though I am now now in the--ahem--"over 80 age demographic."

He was a sweetheart.

I just finished reading My Father's Brain: Life in the Shadow of Alzheimer's, by Sandeep Jauhar, a noted cardiologist. It's a memoir about his experience with his scientist father, who eventually died of Alzheimer's. It is a worthwhile read for anyone dealing with a family member or other loved one with Alzheimer's dementia.