The Guy at the Museum

After my roommate graduated college I went on a road trip with her to celebrate her graduation. Her name was Celesta. We went up and down the CA coastline  and I have many many stories from that trip but here is one I remembered a few days ago. My grandfather was recently moved to an assisted living care facility and my aunt asked me to put some photos together or my family to send to him. I stumbled across this one of him, my grandmother, my roommate and myself standing on the balcony of the MOMA. The incident came rushing back to my mind. (As an aside I totally remembr that wrap skirt from Limited...I loved it so much!!)

On the road trip we stopped and spent a day or two with my grandparents in San Fransisco. One of the days we went to the MOMA (where we took the photo). As we were leaving the Museum we stopped to get a treat in the cafe. It was very crowded and after we had gotten our food there were no open tables. A kind gentleman who was by himself at a large table asked if we would like to join him, as he was working and didn't need th e extra seats. We thanked him kindly and sat to chat and eat.

Sidebar: In college I went through a brief phase of calling everything "gay," good things, bad things, everything. I don't need a lecture on how wrong it was, I am quite clear on that.

Return to the cafe. I have no idea what we were talking about but in th middle of my conversation with my family I called something "gay." As soon as the words came out if my mouth I thought I was going to die. I knew I had blown it. My family was mortified and just stared at me. The kind gentleman who gave us a place to sit quietly packed up his things from the table and left. I felt about as big as a bug. I wasn't trying to be offensive. But clearly I wasn't trying to be sensitive either. I was in my own world where I didn't pay attention to what I said because it was all about me.

I had gay friends. I don't know why or where I picked up the phrase used in that way. I can tell you though, I never used it that way again. The quickest way to kick a bad habit is to do it in front of someone and watch them be hurt by it. This man didn't lash out at me, didn't call me a bigot, didn't throw his coffee on me. He stood up and silently expressed he wasn't going to take it.

I wish I could go back and apologize. I was seventeen. I was stupid. I was embarassed. I was sorry. Am sorry.

So thank you, man in the MOMA coffee shop, for teaching me the power of words and the power of silence.