Town & Country

“On the day I was born it rained in Buffalo.” Drab but clear. I actually was born somewhere in NYC but I’m not sure exactly where even though I was “there” at the moment no one involved stuck around to corroborate the event for future reference. Catholic Charities whisked me away and so I’m told my birth mother headed back to Dublin to no doubt erase the memory of me. Calling Doctor Freud. Perhaps this began my lifelong bout with distrust in people. Much like most everything one must just manage the challenge without letting it overcome any peaceful easy feelings that are, ahem, DESERVED! 😜 When I was born in 1968 I can imagine NYC was kind of sleazy, very Midnight Cowboy, easy fucking and white knuckled survival. I just picture the beautiful Joe Dallessandro and his bandana punking for dollars on the street as chubby secretaries in cat glasses scurry around carrying Henri Bendel bags as their only source of sophistication and Warhol spent more time in Montauk than at the Factory. But I rely on the retrospect of celluloid for these particular memories.

Here I am in Southampton visiting my Aunt and Uncle who have a great old house on the water. Whenever I’d come out to the “Hamptons” to visit my adoptive grandparents when I was a kid I’d get very excited. My Grandmother, the hard core New Yorker, always called it “the country” rather than the “Hamptons” which she thought was a term used by plibean new money to throw around amongst each other to make themselves sound important. Whatever. Nothing has changed. My Grandparents had a great house where everyone congregated on weekends in the summer. As soon as we hit FDR Drive in the big brown Sedan DeVille my adoptive father kept in the city I knew we were escaping to the country, filling up my memory bank with positive vibes. And isn’t that what life is all about? Being out here reminds me of good times. Obviously it’s more crowded than I’d prefer but that pertains to just about everywhere I go. Time to slip on the IZOD and head to my Aunt’s country club for lunch. This sounds very gay. As in happy.

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