Epilogue . . .

This post is in process.  This song, “Altar Boy,” is one I wrote somewhere between 2000 and 2004 (I remember I wrote it when I was teaching at a Catholic school and the letters from my mother were still coming).  I may or may not have performed this at one of our Cafe Nights (Friday night band nights).   I may or may not have gotten in a little trouble.  It’s a tad angry.  But that’s not where I am now, so that’s why this is a post in process . . .

ALTAR BOY

Verse 1

I’ve got a cigarette lit and I want to puff it,

Then all I want to do is fucking snuff it.

I know that death is not true liberty,

But the difficult truth that you refuse to see

is that altar boys don’t grow on trees;

I just can’t drop down to my knees.

Saints and martyrs ain’t for me.

Saints and martyrs ain’t for me.

Chorus

I’ve got a thorn in my side

and I just can’t pluck it.

The only thing that I can say

is “Deal with it or fuck it.”

Verse 2

I’ve got a pill in my mouth and I want to swallow,

‘Cause all you ever wanted me to do is follow.

I know that death is not true liberty,

But the difficult truth that you refuse to see

is that sons aren’t sheep and love ain’t cheep.                             

The love you sow is the love you reap.

Bleating, repeating ain’t for me.

Bleating, repeating ain’t for me.

Verse 3

You say I’m standing

between loneliness and heaven,

But that a cross and beads said on my knees

And all will be forgiven.

Well, the more I think of jumping,

the more I think of living.

If loneliness means liberty,

I’ll make a heaven of this hell.

July 8, 2004: I’M TIRED OF THIS REDUNDANCY . . .

I’M TIRED OF THIS REDUNDANCY | July 8, 2004

Dear Dominic,

What a typical, current cop-out!  “Using religion in the name of hate.”  What trash!  Many homosexuals hate because they are in the grip of Satan.  They hate God because he won’t validate their perversions.  If the Church continues to coddle homosexuals, it will collapse.  You are breaking God’s laws and living in mortal sin and that, Dominic, is a reality you won’t accept!  You can not love God and break His laws.  Anyone who condones your sexual activity is a weakling and an accomplice to your sin.

I never wanted to cut the cords.  You have forced me to choose.  I have no hate for you, but I hate the evil of homosexuality that enslaves you.  We are called to emulate and follow Jesus Christ.  In the parable of the Prodigal Son, the father did not go chasing after his errant son; he allowed him to wallow with the pigs.  It was only after the son repented and renounced his filthy lifestyle that the father ran out to meet him.  I intend to do exactly the same.

I’m tired of this redundancy!  I will not allow you or “S” to further hurt us and keep us on an endless roller coaster ride of false hopes.  How evil of you!

Do not send me any of your nonsense memoirs!  You are trying to psychologically and emotionally torture me and I will not allow it.  The past is dead.  You destroyed it long ago  whenever you started on your road to your despicable sexuality.

Oh, yes!  You know I love you!  And you’ve tried to use my love for you to get your own way.  Well, you can stop the crap!  Just like “S”, who says one thing and does another.

Nothing and no one will separate me from my first Love, Jesus!  Absolutely no one.  I’m so ashamed that my own precious son has so offended Our Lord.

My position is final.  Send nothing.  If you ever decide to repent and reform your life, I will battle Satan on his own turf for you, but not before I’m sure you are sincere.

I, too, have kept most of your cards and letters.  But they will all be destroyed when we die if there has been no reunion.  I’m too tired to continue much longer.  I am a well run dry—no love from anyone has replenished me, except for the Lord.  He is all I thirst for now.

I doubt that we will ever see each other again.

Goodbye,

Mom

June 20, 2004: STOR-ALL OFFICE BOX #03325

If you’ve read this memoir from beginning to end, you’ll remember that this is where it started…

Dear Mom,

I am compiling all the correspondence we’ve shared over the years into a memoir. I’m including letters sent and unsent, letters between us and letters to and from my friends, professors, confessors, journal entries never shared—all the writing that reveals who we were and who we’ve become. I’ve been storing everything in a Stor-All office box, stock number 03325.

It’s so strange reading letter after birthday card after Mass card after article filled with your mixture of grief and hate and love.

CAM01565

These are only the article clippings (and probably only half of them). I had to put in the two extensions for the dining room table to even fit them all here.

CAM01628

A tiny selection of the letters and cards and Post-It notes.

I know you love me so much. But, as you’ve told me, you’ve cut the cords.

Fortunately (or is it unfortunately?) you will never be able to fully cut the cords. You will never be completely free of me. I will never be completely free of you. Because there is still some fragment of your old self left, I’m sure. The bitterness, the paranoia, the fear, the use of religion in the name of hate, the refusal to face reality—all these things obscure the smile that smiles back at me from one of the last family photos we took, sitting on the brown couch in the living room, hastily arranged with all the dogs, leaving enough room for dad to perch on the side after starting the timer. I like to show people that picture. Invariably, they mistake ba-chan for my mom and think you’re my older sister. You look so young and beautiful in that picture.

CAM01564

(R-L): Mom, me, grandmother (ba-chan), sister, dad (and three really big dogs–oh, and one of our four cats).

Maybe once I’m done, you can proof it for me. You’ll be able to read yourself back to me, read myself back to me, and see if what I’ve written isn’t true.

How could it not be true? We’ve all written it together.

Love,

Dominic

June 16, 2002: ALL CORDS ARE CUT

Dominic,

We’re so glad to hear how wonderful your life is and what a popular guy you seem to be.  Well, I guess we’ll have to all wait to see what the Lord says about our actions.

No need to worry about any more tapes, articles, letters, etc…You are in God’s hands–I’ve tried my best but I’m too weary to continue.  Enjoy your new family–you won’t have any more reminders of your “polyester past.”

Grow up yourself!  Real parents?!  You had them once.  And the only bullshit is from your camp.  I only regret that I won’t have the opportunity to knock you on your ass just once!

You need not waste $.37 returning this all torn up!  Consider it done.  All “duty” is ended (your’s long ago!).  All cords are cut.  You are completely free of us.

May God have mercy on your soul.

[Again, she signs her full name.]

February 8, 2002: HORSES & SODOMY (or, GLORY TO THE BLOOD OF JESUS)

HORSES AND SODOMY | February 8, 2002

Dear Dominic and “S”,

While the two of you wallow in your selfish, self-indulgent, perverse “lifestyles,” the world has seen the beginning of World War III, i.e., Armageddon.  I’m sure neither of you are doing your homework.  Of course, not—you’re too self-absorbed with horses and sodomy to consider you are both on your way to hell—forever—unless you WAKE UP NOW!

So sorry you were born when you were, but tough!  Satan has you both by the short-hairs—and most of your generation, you pitiful weaklings!

But I am doing my duty according to Scripture, God’s Holy Word—All praises to the Trinity!—by warning your sorry asses.  Get your heads out of the sand.  You must repent now.  We probably will not see each other again.  I hope and pray you will be saved.

Glory to the Blood of Jesus,

Mom

January 1, 2002: THE ONLY ONE TRUE LOVE

Dear Dominic,

We received your pictures.  Please send no more–they only remind us of your betrayal.

I do not believe you.

A son would not abandon his parents (or his God!).

A son would not hurt and grieve us so horribly.

A man would not live the way you do.

You paint your own picture by what you do, not what you say.  Talk, talk, talk.

Miss us?  I doubt it.  A son would not go so far away for so long.  Neither would a daughter.

But then neither of you know what it is really like to care more about someone else than self.  How could you.  You’re not a man.  Discipline; self-control; selflessness.  You have no idea.  I will send you one last gift soon.  It may buy you some time one day to repent.  Take it seriously.

As for me, I hope to be with the only True Love as soon as I can.  I pray God will open your eyes.

Mom

 

December 25, 2001: #1 PRIORITY

Priorities…

Are you your #1 priority?

Does it bother you, ever, that you may never see your parents again?

Does it bother you, ever, that “yes” you can be wrong and are on your way to hell?

Is your only priority your own personal license?

Are you so incapable of self-control and rehabilitation?

Does it matter to you at all how many people you have hurt?

Do you care at all about the Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost?

May Jesus open your eyes to your error and have mercy on your soul.

Love,

Mom and Dad

October 10, 2001: HALF THE WORLD’S POPULATION

Dear Dominic,

Despite the passage of seven years, I still can not comprehend your horrible choice to live in opposition to all of God’s laws and risk eternal damnation.  There is no doubt in my mind that you are not homosexual.  And so, this deadly choice is even more incomprehensible.  I wish you would at least explain to us what happened in your life to lead you into hell.  I do not believe that any part of your upbringing was so terrible as to lead you to live the way you are, negating all your gifts, wasting your life.  I have never believed the psychiatrists: if what they say is true, at least half the world’s population would be queer!  But it is obvious to us now that your “priorities” (as Fr. “Z” called them) include neither God nor family.

War is here and it will get much, much worse.  Get on your knees and ask God’s forgiveness and when you get up ask for help to live chastely.  I can not comprehend how one who is so loved could hurt others so incredibly.  Your punishment scares me!  But maybe you never had the Faith after all.

Oh, what a waste!

May God forgive you,

Mom

September 11, 2001: I WILL STAND IN THE BREECH

Dear Dominic,

In the light (or darkness) of this horrible attack on our country, I feel compelled to once again remind you that the Lord is coming back soon!  This attack on our country is a judgment allowed by God to punish this nation for all the horrible things we really do: exporting and pushing the butchery of abortion here and abroad, allowing paganism and perversity to reign free, especially the abomination of homosexuality!  Open your eyes—you’ve been wallowing in error, you are wrong, you are doing evil.  You must stop and repent now.

This country is going to war.  We could die at any time.  Your soul will be lost forever if you don’t repent and give up this filthy addiction that enslaves you.  We love you too much to lose you forever.  I will stand in the breech as I have been, but I can’t be there forever.  You must repent.  Come home.  Give it all up!  Start over.  If war erupts (and it will) you may be drafted.   Time to get right with the Lord.  Maybe the military will make a man out of you.

Forever loving you,

Mom