He’s putting
on a brave face for the camera, but he’s not happy about being on display. He’s
already self-conscious about being chubby. He’s already felt the shame of being always
the one picked last for teams on the playground. Still in the future lies his
humiliation at the effeminacy he’ll hear and hate in his own voice on a tape recorder;
and later his self-recrimination for the homophobic taunts directed at him by
other boys in gym class. Over the decades, his shame will turn into a young man’s
self-loathing for the child he’d been.
My task now,
and increasingly my joy, is to father that boy. To reach back across half a
century, to bring him to this cabin. To make a home for him here. To tell him
that he’s just fine, he’s beautiful, he’s worthy of love. In showing compassion
towards him, I find my compassion for others.
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