Coming out

Ed Note: My brother just reminded me that this actually happened on Easter, which really adds to, as he put it, the "Yak Attack." 

This has nothing to do with anything, but I made a comment about reprimanding a Jew for eating shrimp in another post and I was reminded of a story about my dad. Way back in the '90s, my family met for Thanksgiving in Washington DC for supper at my dad's condo.

I arrived with my then boyfriend/now groom. My recently divorced brother arrived solo, or possibly with his two sons who would have been around tween age. My sister showed up with her boyfriend/now husband. My other sister arrived with her new boyfriend who was Jewish. And, my other brother brought along his new boyfriend after recently telling each of us that he was and is gay.

We were all sitting around the table, post "where's the gravy boat god damn it" argument, sipping the last of the wine and considering whether we wanted Sambuca or Frangelico and whether either really required coffee. (Answer: Seriously? No.)

My father had been making wise cracks to my sister's Jewish boyfriend, who I shall call "Paskudnyak" or "Yak" for short, about eating shrimp or cheese or mixing certain food items on his plate, like "Oh, so you're not really Jewish then" and "aren't you supposed to be wearing a hat of some sort?" It was brutal.

After supper, with bellies full of turkey, stuffing, potatoes, squash, spanakopita (we grew up in a Greek neighborhood), apple pie, pumpkin pie, and bottles of gin, vodka, whiskey, and wine, my father surveyed the table with his eyes. His gaze lingered on my brother and his new boyfriend, watching them carefully for signs of affection or flamboyance. My father wasn't anti-gay or as is more fashionably stated, "homophobic," and even though he raised all three of his daughters to have opinions, be independent, and absorb as much information about the world as we could, he was an old-school man. Strong middle class women who fight back when they see something wrong? He had that down. A preppy, somewhat elitist, son who paid attention to fashion and liked to kiss boys? Foreign territory. In my father's defense (that sounds like the title of a book about a bad man being defended by his daughter), he processed the information he was given and chose love over adversity. He chose to see his son as his son and not as simply a gay man. He did what every parent should. He loved his son.

I mean, it's not like he came out as a Republican or anything. That would have been a deal breaker. And, when my sister voted for Jerry Brown, I thought my father was going to disown her. But, gay? Meh.

We were at the table with my father watching his "well at least he isn't a republican" son with his very good looking boyfriend and I saw him switch his judgment off. I mean, his face almost clicked, and his eyes darted over to Yak. He watched as Yak, a lanky dark-haired man nearly a decade younger than my sister (also not a problem), sipped his wine and ate his food, cheese and shellfish and all. He watched as my sister and Yak canoodled at the table, freshly in love in their early 30s and early 20s respectively. I remember my father had a quarter in his hand that he was flipping on the table with his right hand, balancing it on its edge, flattening it out, rolling it under his index finger. I thought fleetingly of Commander Queeg as my father leaned forward and said the safest thing he could, "Tell me, Yak. Have you ever even considered Catholicism?"

I immediately looked at my brother and whispered, "Get your boyfriend out of here. Now."