IT IS NOT A FANTASY.
A few weeks ago, I traveled to New York to celebrate my 60th birthday; I was reminded how lucky I’ve been with the people I’ve surrounded myself with. A caring, loving group of humans, the world would be better if we had more like them.
Brunch at an apartment in the Upper East Side, a museum visit to see the David Bowie exhibit, cocktails at a hipster pub in Brooklyn, and ice cream at a place where the line doubled upon itself and spilled out the door. And through it all, constant conversation and laughter.
One person I’ve known for forty years, their spouse around thirty. Another one I met thirty-five years ago when we joined the same board of directors; their spouse I met a decade later. One is a fan of my stories on Gay Authors—my work having fans is the weirdest feeling—and we’ve chatted for a couple of years but this was our first live interaction. The other two—a father and son duo—I met for the first time that day.
The seven individuals I spent time with on that one day are proof the world I describe isn’t fantasy. We were adults and children, men and women, gays and straights, married and single, Christians and Jews, Asian, black, Hispanic, and white, USA and foreign-born.
Many of them had only me in common when the day began. When we parted, contact information had been exchanged by most of them. Those few hours we shared are proof we all can get along. That the melting pot is alive and well. And that when we look past our differences, we might just discover a wonderful person who will enrich our lives.
I know those surrounding me that day have made me a better man and I thank them for it.
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