ColumbusGuy

If you've kept up with reviews as well as the story, you may rest assured that Kevin will find what he needs in time, I owe this to my real-life Kevin who had to endure far longer than the one in this story. I moved him back in time so he could fit in, and that shortened his travails, so he will be more ready to embrace happiness. I am trying to make intervals between posts shorter, and I'm hoping this will help time go a little faster for you all without increasing any feelings of foreboding.

Just thought I'd say something about the inspiration for this--the Hardy Boys adventures which have been thrilling young teens since the early years of the 20th Century...The first thirty were written by one person, Leslie MacFarlane, a Canadian author who had a gift for not 'talking down' to his readers, giving them credit for being able to handle plots and language beyond most books for young readers. In the late 50s, early 60s the publisher's grand-daughter took over, and all the earlier editions were heavily edited and 'dumbed down', and in some cases only the title remained of the original stories. Several authors wrote more adventures into the 80s I think, but under her control, they had to be shorter, less intriguing or challenging for readers--essentially destroying the magic of the series. I did not read these as a kid, but found them only about ten years ago, and a web site talked about the originals and what had been done to the series over the decades, and fortunately gave summaries and links of all the books' original editions--I bought all the MacFarlane ones, and a couple others after him...but those were set in the 60s and involved submarines and improbable stories with less engaging writing, so I stopped. Geron had the good fortune of having grown up with the original editions thanks to his father's broad reading and love of collection. He has done an amazing job of capturing the essence and atmosphere of the originals, and I hope he will give us more as he has time! The 70s television series wasn't good, but my teen fantasies centered on Shaun Cassidy and Parker Stevenson for quite a long time--I'm glad to see this speculation that satisfies my old wish that the boys had been like me! Hardy Boys Original Series

Something struck me as I read this...and I remembered something I saw in a news commentary this afternoon: campuses are no longer places for free exchanges of thought or speech--the generation of politically correct kids see self-expression as a threat to their candy-coated world and won't hear of any dissenting views, or even slightly differing ones as they see anything not conforming to their own view as a racist, religious or political attack on how the world ought to work. History must be sanitized to reflect current views at the expense of the facts, and to hell with anyone who dares to hint that they are not seeing the world as it truly is. The days of teaching curiosity and logical thinking are gone, and therein lies the end of our society...tyranny is fast approaching from the horizon when it is anathema to even think out of the sheep pen our children have learned from over-protective adults. Sadly, Gary, I'm sorry for your grandchildren who I'm sure are being taught to use their brains--they'll be at a disadvantage in the vanilla future the rest of our teachers are creating...and they may be the only ones to see and realize that the missiles that will fall, or the boots marching through our carefully non-confrontational and sanitized halls of learning belong not to phantoms, but real people with no desire to allow freedom or reason to endure. There can be no surprise greater than that of the sheep when he feels the wolf's teeth at his neck.... In this one instance only, I'm glad that I don't have children or grandchildren to worry about.

I was loved by my parents, but distantly by my Dad, and overly much by my Mom...so that had its own effect on my mental state regarding family...it made me wonder what love really was, and gave me a yearning to find the real thing...but then I met Kevin, and realized that others had it far worse than I did. I think he was piecing together how things could be, all the while battling personal experience which gave him no positive exemplars as a guide. I could tell he was trying to be more like other people--and at times he managed to actually show and even have fun with having someone to bond so personally with, hence the romantic surprises, but even in the other times, he'd show his care by preferring to be with me than anywhere else. I think he did remarkably well for what he went through...and that's not even counting what his stint in the Army must have done to him with their emphasis on discipline and obedience. Kevin was morphing into a better place, but in the end, he didn't have the time he needed to complete the journey...I'll do it for him in my story. I need to give Gary a ton of credit for expanding on the scene where Kevin sees what a real family life can be--my original was shorter, and he gave it an emotional right-hook which just floored me...so, we need to sing his praises too! He really does earn his kudos from me by loving my little world as much as I do!

A lot of people who saw Kevin just saw the surface, not bothering to look deeper, which was a great shame. Beneath the bitterness and anger and bravado was a nice guy who tried to form relationships to the best of his ability, and he succeeded only with some of his cousins--and me. More people saw some of the hurt, and would sympathize with him, but he wasn't looking for pity...just genuine friends and acceptance. I know he found it hard to find it in himself too, and that was just so cruel that people could cause him to doubt his own self-worth to that degree for the sake of their authority. In putting Kevin a little earlier in my life, I'm thinking his walls are a little less formidable, and he can allow people in to give him what he needed so badly...love. He will get his happy life, never fear, and we know who that will be. I owe it to him.

I think it must be hard for some kids to realize how isolated it could be living on a farm in the days before cell phones and computers...if neighbors were close, they might not have kids your age, so you might only interact with them at school--which can be scary at the best of times. Calvin's home life was less than perfect, so it's no wonder he feels closest to his grandma, and now Benny. It's a huge step opening up to someone you hope to have as a friend, and maybe more...but he's done it, and won the prize. Yep, lots to come, I'm just glad you haven't given up on my boys.

Thanks Ivor...Kevin was a bundle of contradictions and surprises, which made being his friend and more an exciting adventure almost every day. He was often spontaneous, and sometimes compulsive if he was having fun with a scene in a movie, he'd watch it over and over--especially if he knew it would amuse/annoy me...but always in a good way--never harsh or unfeeling. That was him--no airs or pretenses, you saw where he stood on most things. And yet, for all his hidden reserve, he'd come through to show his inner self by doing something romantic and playful without warning. Some of those things may find their way into the story.... What's your phrase? 'Chalk and cheese'? That was us, but I think I needed him to break the predictability of my life. You are either friends or enemies with such a person--you love or hate them. There's no doubt you miss them.

Thanks Wes. You may get more than you bargained for--I've got two ideas for shorts running around in my head, so now they have more room to play around!

The big delay with this one, besides my penchant for reading, was Kevin's part. He almost never talked about his family life, but from his poetry and talking with his surviving cousins, I think I got it fairly close to real life. I can't help but wonder if he might still be here if he'd been able to let people in. For more than ten years I gave him all the love and support he'd allow, but in the end his other problems became too much.

POV: Denny, Kevin, Jay “Well, why can’t he?” I asked Reb for what seemed the third time since Saturday’s adventure at the drive-in. Despite the Beckels’ words, I still felt uncomfortable arriving to study empty-handed, so my Southern swain was driving my Corvair convertible toward Roscoe’s Supermarket for snacks. As much as Dirck protested, I usually picked up a half-gallon of chocolate milk for Mikey. Greg would always give the genial man a shit-eating grin while m

Congratulations on this proud occasion, to those who built our home and kept it alive and intriguing from the start! I don't know if I'd have done any real gay fiction without GA's existence; once I discovered the site I too lurked for about a year before events made me take the plunge. Writing isn't new for me--I'd written cheesy science-fiction stories since elementary school back in the 60s, and in my last year of high school in 1977, I sent the first chapters and outline for a fantasy novel off to several publishers, all of whom sent me very proper rejection slips. In a college Creative Writing course I was informed that I had a little talent, but that my work shone when I wrote some historical pieces rather than the imitative sci-fi and fantasy previously explored. Ten or so years later, I found online fiction which was practically brand new in the early 90s, and found a group devoted to research and role-play writing in the Ancient World...and thus began my love for online writing. I took part in several groups set in ancient Rome, and wrote as part of a team of like-minded amateurs for nearly fifteen years. Rome gave an outlet for non-graphic homoerotic writing, but it was GA where I tried writing the real thing in 2014. It might not have happened if I hadn't had colon surgery that Spring, which made me take a look at myself. I wanted to write something relevant to my psyche--modern gay fiction--and thereby come to terms with some events in my private life. I envy those who have found their 'better halves' in this world because that for the most part escaped me, until that was met from a most unexpected source--a casual acquaintance I'd been told was homophobic. No one was more surprised than me when I was approached by him (really a bi man), and thoroughly shocked that we lasted more than ten years until pressures he couldn't share forced him to take his own life in 2007. So, GA is allowing me to come to terms with that, and the rejection of my father when he discovered my sexuality--fortunately just before we sold our house and moved to separate ones in 1987. I had been close to him until then, but after that discovery he never spoke to me again. He died in 2001 aged 83. That is the other keystone to why I'm writing my 'mini-magnum-opus' Jay & Miles...my fictional 'me' will take the chance I passed up in high school and live a happier life as I could have done with a little more courage.... So, a heart-felt Thank You to the people who created this site, and to the wonderful writers who drew me in and became friends who I cherish to this day!

It's hard to say what season I like the most...Spring is okay with the lilacs and daffodils and burgeoning leaves, but Summer can be a humid hell of oppressive heat as it goes on. I guess we can skip Winter, since I'm no longer as fond of snowball fights from icy forts in the front yard and I no longer own a sled. That only leaves Fall, a magical time of colored leaves, warm days and cool evening...and that slightly smoky tang in the air even though no one is burning leaves anywhere near. School always seems to mark the end of fun for kids, but for those of us who enjoy reading it marked the start of a new adventure and the possibility of new friends. Can't forget Hallowe'en candy, or the growing expectations of a warm cup of soup or cocoa when you come in after snatching a few last hours of Indian Summer. All the best things from our childhoods seems gathered in one shining season of excitement--bring it on, O Wheel of Time--I need one last hurrah before Winter clamps down on my joints and a date with the Tylenol bottle!

A friend alerted me to this story, since it went off the queue before I saw it...most time's his recommendations are good ones, and this was another of those times. I'm glad Cam isn't one of the privileged elite who often appear in sea-side stories, but a regular guy like most of us. So he's not a beach guard then? Too bad, but I guess with the abstinence rule it won't matter, right?

Well, once more you show us the breadth of your palette...stories, poems, insightful and touching reviews...I have to say I am grateful that life got in the way of your ideal of being a painter--that would have deprived your widely-scattered audience of so many hours of pleasure. You've reached far more hearts than you might have in a studio or gallery, and yet we can still see the scenes you depict with pen alone. My late sister Ilene was the artist in our family, with a fantastic ability to paint--I should know from seeing her work, and the comments my art teacher made to me ten years after she graduated. It takes a lot of talent to be remembered that long in a public high school setting, and I was not so talented. I could draw, but any attempt I made at painting looked like a badly done paint-by-numbers ket. So, no...you may have not painted on canvas, but your pictures in our heads inspired by your words have left indelible worlds for us all. I await every excursion keenly, and wonder what will be conjured up next.

Another wonderfully sweet chapter, and why not toss in a little eroticism? You hit a number of my favorite buttons here, my dearest friend...bringing me close to tears with the nostalgic recollections of their time in the apartment, and also of Michael's recognition of his feelings for Kendall before they finally got together. Only hindsight can reveal those things we fail to notice at the time they occur. And the record collection--you're looking at a guy who has several hundred albums from my teen years, and some from my older sisters' youth also--just enough differences to broaden my horizons. Why else would a kid of the 70s like The Monkees or Herman's Hermits...and yes, a tiny appreciation of Herb Alpert and The Tijuana Brass? I joined one of those record clubs where you get ten or twelve albums for a few cents plus shipping. I had little knowledge of the current Rock scene of the mid-70s, so picked most of them for the little cover pictures that looked cool. To this day, my favorite albums are Jon Anderson's Olias of Sunhillow and Rick Wakeman's Myths and Legends of King Arthur....They've moved with me from house to house since 1976. Like Michael, I took pains to find a replacement turntable after moving into my current house...I wish it had the little thing to play a whole stack of 45s at once, but that got lost when my old turntable died in the mid 80s. I just kept laughing too at Michael's attempts to 'get lucky' the whole afternoon...I can just picture the look on his face--I'd have given in since my will-power sucks.

It was so great to visit with David, Twoey and company again. Since we lost SD I've felt the additional loss of the people in his world that we'll never see again--but you've done an excellent job of letting us have these final moments with them once more. I think, in a way, that Skinny's ghost can rest a little easier now--and so can the rest of us who shared his thoughts and dreams.

Oh, I was just trying to place him--glad I got it right! Dang, not a Monty Python fan then? Bruce was the name for all the Australian professors satirized in one of their sketches for a fake university--John Cleese was a newbie, I think, and was named something else much to their consternation. Mis-remembered it--here's the link: Bruces' Sketch

All of these Australians--and not one of them named Bruce! Look it up.... The only point you lost me was with Wesley--is he the horse breeder guy? Will wanting to check on his step-father is no surprise, nor is Liam's reaction--but he has to remember why he loves Will so much. If Will changes his nature, that would impact their own relationship, and probably not for the better. I don't quite get what you mean by a re-write of Seb and Beau--I hate when authors go back and change something because it's a lot of work for the reader to follow--it makes far more sense to add new chapters onto the story, say as them remembering things in their history--it shows more of their depth without sacrificing new events as well. In my own story, I will have my guys reflect on things while being in the present, and that shows insights into them without unduly holding up the story...or so I hope. Characters feel more alive if they also have 'inner lives' as well as real world ones. So, a 'guarded' Yes to more Seb and Beau....

Well, I just tried the first chapter, and I can see spaces where they ought to be, but despite that, something is screwing up my narrator making a lot of the words run together. Very distracting so I gave up half-way through. I will try reading without the narration, although that is hard and tiring for me now. I'm using my desktop pc with Win 10, which is a year old and pretty darn good. A friend reported losing formatting on one of his stories, could that have happened due to the upgrade recently? I write my stuff using Word 2013 and it posts fine, and so did stuff with Google Docs when I used to do it that way when I started--clueless otherwise, sorry.

A Happy Birthday to one of the luckiest little boys in the world, to have you for a Gramps! (I'm not taking that exclamation mark back--I don't think you'll begrudge it me this time) You have a precious gift that most gay men can never have--the joys of children you fathered, and the continuation of your example into the future--it didn't dawn on me when I first accepted my gayness that I was the last of my direct line...but over the years, it's come to mean something more to me than it used to. For untold millennia a long line of people led to one thing--me--and it seems my genes won't go on into the Future we all dream of...cousins will go on, most of whom I don't know...but my father had only one other son--and he and his wife of many years have never had children. My father's other child, my half-sister, has a son, but so far as I know, he hasn't fathered any children either, nor has his sister. So, I am the last of my line, 180 years in America, beginning with one man, growing to large families, but coming down to just me and my two half-siblings in one generation. So, my dearest friend...I envy your luck, and know you will instill countless loving moments for your grandkids to cherish...if you could, give him a hug from me, a friend who wishes him all the best in the world.

The sad thing about youth is that it wears an 'invulnerable suit' which ill prepares the wearer for what Life has in store later on...and despite our best efforts to give a little advice, we often don't get through. In later years, how many of us slap ourselves on the forehead and admit 'Shit--they were right!'? The drive to assist the next group of youths is thus born, and in our zeal we forget that our own shields at that time withstood all efforts at being breached unless we had very astute commanders in our heads. Where is our usb cable to upload our experience directly to bypass the 'bullshit' filters kids have so often? If they could only see directly for themselves what is going on, we would get through.... Thank the gods the colors persist too--our task ought to be to impart more of them so they are easier to find. Paintbrush, anyone?

Gotta love anything Aussie! I'm reading a story elsewhere set in a rural area called Schoolie, but I'm only on the third chapter so far. I really hope the FBI goons are going to investigate properly and not try to involve Will's dad in this mess--it would be so like the way justice works when it involves governments. More please!

I suppose if I had to choose a philosophical stance, it would be from Ancient Rome...there were two choices that appealed to me from my readings: Stoicism and Cynicism. If you go by my general beliefs, it would be the latter most of the time, but in times of adversity, then the former comes to the fore. Neither is much comfort at those times, when what would really help is a warm, safe hug. When we are small, if we are lucky, that comes from our parents--usually a mom; alas, by the time life can really hurt, most of us have lost our parents, and must depend on remaining family or friends. Alas, how many of us, due to social conditioning, are willing to ask for that help, or even give it when asked because it will show us as weak? For me, my response at a visceral level is: 'Screw social norms--my friend is hurting--that's what matters most.' So, Gary, my dear...I have said it often enough, but here it is again: I love you unconditionally and will always have your back, and you can lean on me when the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune seem too much.

Thanks Sol! I owe a huge to Timothy M for help with the Danish--I was going to use an online translator, but I ran those by him first and he showed me how inaccurate they can be. He also has given me tons of help with cultural aspects of that country, as will become very clear when the Easter holiday comes round. I'm glad you're going slow as that gives me time to write more, and I just might stay ahead a bit.

Sigh...it's a weepy day already. It's drizzling, I've got tears of happiness for this chapter, and just before reading this, ones of sadness at reading of the very short life of a wonderful writer named Codey. I hadn't known why he only lived to be seventeen, but I got a link to read about him from a friend. His stories were great, and he'd have been a truly prolific author based on his talent and drive. This was an awesome way to start my day--thank you Lit--and I can't wait for more!