I grew up in Marathon, a small pulp mill town on Lake Superior in northern Ontario, Canada.
It was very beautiful , but isolated and remote. I trapped rabbits, with a friend. He and I wrestled frequently in the bush. We sometimes fought with knives. I discovered opera.
For five years I was a devoutly Roman Catholic altar boy, served at mass weekly, went unmolested by the local priest.
When I turned 18 I left for Toronto to go to university. I was molested by a doctor within a month of having arrived.
I had no consensual sex of any kind until after I graduated, and that was with a woman. I was 22, and all my buddies were guys. I was in love with one of them. He was straight. A bit of a cliché, that.
When I was 24 I met Ed Jackson, an acknowledged homosexual. He helped guide me out of the closet and introduced me to the ideas of gay liberation.
Those who might want to fill out this profile sketch can read “Immoral, Indecent and Scurrilous,” my memoir published by Cormorant Books in 2021.
Some distinguishing marks:
I have Parkinson’s Disease, complicated by Pseudobulbar affect, diagnosed several years ago. Until then I’d lived a life of unremitting good health. Never had a driver’s licence.
Never had a television.
Never learned how to properly tie my shoes.
Can’t properly use a knife and fork.
I’m a devoted voyeur.
I’m cock crazy.