Welcome To St David's

Welcome to St David's

So, let's see what we have established so far:

I was born and went to kindergarten, was a hell beast in kindergarten, thus causing my parents to baptise the demon out of me and sent me to catholic school.

Got that so far? Good.

By the way, is it weird that I am writing about my school days while listening to the music of Spinal Tap? Just a questionable observation that I came up with. Anywho, let us move on, shall we?

I started first grade at St David's School in Richmond, CA in 1979 (damn I'm old). Remember that hell beast I was in kindergarten? well, he kind of stayed around in first grade. Let's just say my first impression on those who would wind up some of my best friends in life at first thought I was....something. Especially B.A. (remember I am not using real names, but if you can figure out whose initials those are, you win a cookie).

B.A. was sitting next to me on a bench at lunch and I was trying to read from the first grade reader. I was fascinated with reading even at an early age and it is something that has stayed with me in my life. Well, for some damn reason I felt I needed to fixate on the word "but" on the page I was reading. I was reading anything else out loud, just repeating the word "but" and saying it with a smile (I present this as Exhibit B that gay people are born gay). B.A. was not amused, in fact he was very verbally disgusted. Here it was, day three into my new school, and I got my first detention for this. Go me.

Fortunately B.A. and I went on to become the best of friends. Kids and their short attention spans. Gotta love it....at times.

My class consisted of more boys than girls, a trend with out class that would continue up until I left and went to high school. Some girls would come and go but many stayed. One included my friend W.F. (again, guess the name by initials and win....a jelly bean). W.F. and I, no exaggeration, knew each other since we were one year old. The reason is because her mom was the sister of my mom's #1 BFF who just also happens to be my Godmother. So because of this, we were always around each other, be it at events like 4Th of July picnics or just hanging out. I even remember going over to her house while my dad and her dad would discuss football, my mom and her mom would discuss....mom things, and W.F. and I would play with her Strawberry Shortcake dolls (I present this as Exhibit C BTW).

I can honestly say if there is one thing W.F. helped me out in, it was keeping me in check. When school began my world got smaller because of her so it was no stopping the fact if bad news got back to my family about me being a little shit. I honestly now thank her for that. I am sure if she was not their to verbally kick my ass I would not be the well behaved Tasmanian Devil on crack that I am today: I would be worse. So thank you W.F.

First grade was also the class where I made my first BFF for life: A.G. (insert nummy prize here for guessing). A.G. and I would become thick as thieves over the years, even in high school. I can honestly say he went on to become one of the best friends I ever had. What drew us together? That fact that we lived in walking distance from each other. Oh, and he had an Atari 2600. I do not know if any of you are old enough to remember, but if you had an Atari 2600 at your house, your house became party central, especially on your birthday. Who needs party planning when you have Combat in it's glowing 2 bit graphic glory? Take THAT Nintendo Wii!

St David's was also the first time in my life that I got to experience first hand nuns. The mother superior was also our school principal, and while she was nice, if you did something bad you felt her wrath. I have a story involving her but we will not get into that until I move on to the second grade. Pretty much my only interaction with her in the first grade was when she would make over-com announcements and came to see the class.

You know those calendars called "Nuns Having Fun"? It is a yearly calendar depicting nuns having fun (well duh, Roy). This is where you get to see people like Sister Mary Elizabeth Eliza Dushku of The Five Wounds playing on the beach. Well, Mother Superior Principal was the same way. She was not afraid to play kick ball with us in her Sister Act style nun outfit, and honestly I liked that. Especially since the only images I had of nuns until then were the ones from "The Sound of Music", "The Trouble With Angels", and those TV shows that had the nuns taking rulers to naughty kids' knuckles. It was nice to see a nun have fun in the flesh. So the next time you see those calendars know that yes indeed nuns do like to have fun. I wonder if Cyndi Lauper can write a song concerning that subject matter?

In first grade I was introduced to many many traditions at St David's. The first being the annual Halloween Carnival. Us students loved this day for many reasons: 1) It was a half day. 2) We got to come to school dressed in costumes to be judged. 3) Game booths where we competed for plastic spider rings and other trick or treat treasures, and finally 4) The Haunted House sponsored by the 8Th Graders. See the 8Th grade class would raise funds throughout the year to help pay for their graduation trip to the local theme park Great America. Great America kicked major bootay in the roller coaster department and was guaranteed fun. One of the ways they raised money was to host a haunted house. It was a tradition that even our class had to do when we got there (that is another story for anther time).

The haunted house was a walk through located, at the time, in the music room. You would wander through the hand made maze, have hands try to grab you under the table, and experience other scares. It was the talk of the class the next day. I guess the 8Th graders did their jobs right.

The next tradition? Echo Hall. At the time, Echo Hall was a hallway on the lower level of the school that had the girl's bathroom, a janitor's closet, and some of the best acoustics I have ever heard. It was called Echo Hall for a reason. The teachers did not want us to run through and create noise for a reason. Think we listened? Later in the years they would close off Echo Hall to prevent students from playing tag through the hall. Too bad too, because it was one of my favorite sounds ever growing up.

The third and final tradition I was introduced to was St David's Olympics. Back in the long long ago when schools actually cared about the physical fitness of it's students, our school would host for one day an event where we would take a break from academics and compete in fetes of skill and athletic ability. events like the 100 yard dash, distance jumping, baseball throwing, stuff like that. we would dress in athletic style clothes, give our class a team name, make a banner, and compete. It was honestly loads of fun and was a nice break from being stuck in the class all day long. I do not know if they do this anymore. if not, it truly is a shame because physical fitness is so needed in schools now more than ever.

Our teacher's name was Mrs Harms (yes I am using her name) and she was a really nice woman. However she was pregnant when we came to her class and midway through she had to go on maternity leave because...well she was pregnant. In stepped another nice lady and future politician Maria Viramontes. What was interesting about her was when Maria was around, I was well behaved. I do not know why, it was not like she was this evil intimidating woman, she was very sweet. Who knows.

So, this is all I can remember about first grade experiences at St David's. Tune in next time as I will discuss my experiences in the second grade, ranging from my first battle with strep throat, the joys of detention, and that story I promised about me and Mother Superior. Until then, tah tah.

B.C.: Before Catholicism

B.C. : Before Catholicism

Before my parents decided to send me to catholic school, I was a public school boy...for like a year. That year being Kindergarten. It was the last year I would be allowed to experience the joys and wonders of the public school system in the city of Richmond, CA. Looking back, that is a good thing.

Also, I do not know what exactly was the reasoning for this decision my parents made. Was it the fact that the school system at the time was not as strong as they wanted it to be and wanted to expose me to a better education? Was it that the social climate in the city was changing and not in a good way? Or was it that fact that at the age of 5 when my parents backs were turned and I was in school I was being a little shit? I guess I will never know. All I know is I am glad they made the decision because the education I got I would not trade for anything.

I honestly cannot believe how much of a little shit I was in kindergarten and it amazes me that the teacher didn't try to take me out of my misery. I am sure I tried her patience. Keeping to my promise to not say names, I will make an exception here because I am sure she is no longer with us. She was old when I was in her class, and honestly now that I think back looked like Ruth Gordon from "Rosemary's Baby". Yes, she was THAT old. Her name? Mrs.Equistapade.

Try pronouncing the name before I phonetically spell it out for you: Equistapade.

OK, so to say her name it goes like this: E-Quest-A-Paid. My secret nick name for her was Mrs A-quest-for-pain. I called her this because I felt that this was her calling in life: a quest to cause me mental pain.

I did not make life easy for her, as I am sure my acting up caused her to have her already gray hair turn whiter than cotton. Why did I do it, I wonder. She did seem to have an attitude like she was auditioning to be a strict militant school marm in "Reform School Girls" or something, so maybe it was me trying to stand up to the man. My mom was a former hippie child after all, even earning her hippie stripes by surviving the infamous Altamont concert where The Rolling Stones played and that poor girl got stabbed by The Hell's Angels. Maybe it was a hippie rebellion gene kicking in (if such a gene exists it explains A LOT about me and my quirky personality and political views).

However, I do not think my mom's way for rebelling against the fact that I was being punished by being placed inside the coat closet area was trying on all her classmates' coats and pretending to be in a fashion show. Yep, at the ripe age of five, I was doing this. Whoever says you are not born gay I say is clueless and I present this as Exhibit A. Oh, and I was caught by Mrs Equistapade. This did not please her, so she had the school principal call in my mom for a conference.

As I am writing this, I think I know now why I fought her like I did, and honestly it is totally her fault. Since it was kindergarten I was in, school was half a day for me at the time. I lived 1 1/2 blocks away from the school, so after a few months my parents decided to stop paying for hot lunch and milk for me and just feed me at home instead. Well, I was not told this by anyone so when I was denied my pizza and chocolate milk, it upset me. You never ever stand in the way of a five year old boy and his pizza/chocolate milk combo. At least not me. On top of this, I enjoyed walking home with my classmates, so I decided to wait for them.

After they were done, they came outside with E-Quest-For-Pain and saw me still there. She yelled at me, wanting to, know what I was still doing around the school. Before I got a chance to tell her, she grabbed me by my ear, tossed me off to her right and yelled at me to go home. What a bitch. It's one thing to deny me my pizza and chocolate milk goodness, but to deny me the chance to tell you why I was still there and then man handle my ear about it? Oh, it's on, bitch.

And it was on. Coat closet incident was just the beginning. The following incidents then proceeded to happen in that class:

1) I took up pinching the asses of my classmates. The funny thing? The boys let me. They thought it was funny. Hmmmm

2) We were acting out fairy tales and I was cast as The Big Bad Wolf in Little Red Riding Hood. I had my first ever experience with improv that day as I decided the wolf was going to eat the wood cutter and kiss Red Riding Hood.

3) On her wits end one day, Mrs Equistapade sent me and another girl outside to sit on the bench and think about how bad we were for disrupting the class. Yeah send two kids to sit outside, exposed on a school grounds that was not closed off from anyone who decided to wander in. Hell we could have been kidnapped as far as I know and I bet Mrs Equistapade would think "GOOD!" if it happened. Anyways, we decided to play our own game while outside called "Acting Up In Church". She played my mom and we were trying to get through a church service, and I would act up. She would then ask the preacher if she had permission to take me outside the church and "beat the un-holy hell" out of me. Then she would spank me like I am sure her mom did to her when she acted up in church. We were caught.

Shortly after incident #3, my parents told me that I was going to be leaving that school and going to a catholic school instead. To prepare for this, they got me baptised. I was now Catholic. A new adventure awaited in the world of Catholic School Education. You know, maybe it was ultimately me that caused my parents to make this choice. I guess I will never exactly know.

Prologue

Prologue

I totally blame Dave White in West Hollywood, CA for this.

There is a reason I start out with saying this statement: It is
because I mean it. However, I do not mean it in a ill will sort of
way. Not at all. I mean it in a way that says "Thank you for inspiring
me to get up off my butt and do something".

You see, Dave wrote this great memoir called "Exile In Guyville" about
his first year living in Hollywood after moving from Dallas, TX. It
amused me because it reminded me of the culture shock I experienced
when I first moved from San Francisco, CA to Dallas, TX. It was, what
I thought at the time, the roughest year of my life, trying to adjust
from living in basically Sodom and Gomorrah to now The Belt Buckle of
the Bible Belt. Little did I know the culture shock did not amount to
the hill of beans that would follow then next year when I was
diagnosed with HIV and went through the emotional health roller coaster
ride that comes with it. So, like Dave, I learned to stop whining
about it and just trust a try with my situation. The results have been
mixed, so to say.

Anywho, this is not the subject matter I wanted to discuss and thus I
have moved off topic for a second. Please forgive me.

For the longest time I have been wanting to write a memoir of some
kind. Being openly gay of course my first default is talking about
dealing with growing up gay and hiding it from a homophobic father and
dealing with it in a catholic school surrounding blah blah blah blah
been there done that here is the souvenir T-Shirt. It seems to be
the thing that all gay people go through in their lives, I guess. Some
just never seem to move on.

At any rate, after reading Dave's memoir and laughing through his
misery and seeing that he was able to do it as well, I decided you
know, writing about how my dad was abusive and how I almost committed
suicide and yadda yadda yadda is NOT what I want to write about. It
just makes me look like a queen who wants pity me points. That so
clashes with my post diagnosis live my life to it's fullest style of
life that I have now adopted. However, I still felt I needed to write.
Write what, though? I have a few blogs, one I should update more
often than I do, and a Twitter account and a Facebook account....

Then it hit me: Facebook.

I have a love/hate relationship with this thing on the Internet. You
may have heard of it, it's called Facebook. Facebook is a social
network where the entire world learns about all your business and you
get roped into playing games like Mafia Wars and Farmville. It's like
Myspace minus the annoying flash animated GIFs all over the place
crashing your server. While I get annoyed how at times I cannot post
updates like I want to because the software on Facebook goes wonky
(yes I use this word. A lot. I like it. It suits me) it has done a
miraculous thing: It has reconnected me with friends and colleagues
from my past that I thought I would never see or speak to ever again.
People from high school and grammar school. That has brought me great
joy.

Something I did not expect also happened at the same time: memories
came flooding back to me. Things that I had long forgotten now making
a return engagement like the occasional re-release of Walt Disney's
Snow White and the Seven Drawfs on home video. These forgotten
treasures, like beloved movies being reissued from the film vaults,
brought amazing laughs and smiles to my face and thoughts. It was at
that point, combined with reading Dave White's memoir, that I realized
what I needed to write about.

My 12 years in school.

It may not sound sexy and fun to you, but honestly so much happened in
that 12 year period of my life you could make a few event miniseries.
I feel extremely compelled to share these memories with you. Plus you
never know, you may find yourself laughing, shedding a tear, or going
"What the fuck?" to in the process. Either way, I hope you enjoy the
journey into my collection of memories and thoughts.

One last note before we continue: I will not be using real names to
protect the innocent. Most of the time they will be represented by
their initials or something else as too not embarrass too much. Plus,
I think most of the fun comes from seeing how much I actually remember
and if you were part of my life trying to guess if I am talking about
something that involves you or not. Please also keep in mind that I am
not writing this in purpose of committing slander of any kind. All of
you were a part of my life in those 12 years, the good times and the
bad times, and this is my tribute to those times. Besides, if we
cannot laugh at ourselves then how can we laugh at others, right?