Doug

I had a friend growing up, Doug, and from the time he was six or seven he acted, looked and carried himself like a girl. This behaviour was beyond his control. By the time he hit his mid teens he was fighting it with every fibre in his being, but to no avail. 

Doug's parents seemed unaware of his difficulties and as the middle child of 5 kids, he occupied a rather low place on the family totem pole. Frankly, his entire family were not particularly pleasant people.

He tried out for baseball, soccer and even hockey, though he could barely skate. He was always the first cut. 

Doug would pick fights with guys over almost nothing and lose them all, badly. As his sole friend, this was hard for me to watch. The few times I tried to step in, Doug became angrier with me than the fellow he was fighting, so I'd stand by and watch like everyone else. I vividly recall a feeling of self-loathing wash over me.

Once we reached high school, Doug tried dating girls. He never "liked" guys in a sexual way, he much preferred girls but his inborn femininity prevented him from taking on a fully masculine role. This was confusing for most girls we knew and as a result, Doug didn't date much. He went to grad with his cousin. To say Doug was confused is an understatement. 

He developed a friendship with my Mom. She was always more accepting of Doug than his own family. She first became aware of his situation when I brought him home after one particularly nasty scrap. He had a small cut over one eye. Mom cleaned him up and simply talked to him. Their friendship was immediate and instantaneous. Doug would drop over once or twice a week, usually under the pretense of seeing me, but he'd talk to my Mom almost exclusively. I didn't mind. On the contrary; I was happy for him. It was great to see him actually connect with anyone, including my Mom.

After meeting Doug, my Mom and Dad made a point of telling me how some people "differed" from the norm. They explained that quite often, behaviours weren't a choice, they simply...were. I can see now how their viewpoint was rare for the time, but I've always appreciated the fact they shared it with me.

In a recent interview with Diane Sawyer, Caitlyn (formerly Bruce) Jenner said, "Imagine waking up every morning, despising yourself for your body and your feelings, then throw in an overwhelming sense of self-disgust. That is my reality every single day." I recalled Doug saying something similar to me when we were in our teens.

Unfortunately we lost track of one another a few years after high school. Doug stayed in touch with my Mom for a time but eventually their friendship faded as well. 

Doug got into hardcore drugs, did some jail time and died of lung cancer at 44, single, broke and alone. My Mom and I were the only people at his funeral. No-one from his family attended.

Had I been in Doug's situation I'm not sure I'd have followed Jenner's route, but I sincerely wish that option had been there for him. 

A Solid Guy, A Solid Life          

I lost a childhood friend recently to diabetes related issues and eventual organ failure. I’ve known Jim since we were 6 years old and except for a gap of about 15 years, we’ve always stayed in touch. His wife Michelle asked me to write a childhood memory to be included in his eulogy to be read by his favourite 2 nieces. 

One of my earliest memories with Jim involved us playing catch in my front yard, something we did often. On this particular day I was also babysitting my 2 year old brother, Bruce. He would stand inside at the front screen door and watch us, usually without incident, but not this time. 

On this occasion Bruce managed to open the door and tumble down the 5 front steps. Once he landed he was screaming bloody murder and one of his tiny legs was twisted at a weird angle. I immediately tried standing him up several times to no avail. 

“Stop doing that,” yelled Jim. “His leg’s broken!!” to which I responded, “It can’t be! My parents will kill me!” 

At that precise moment Mom and Dad pulled up.

As it happens, one of the cement sidewalk slabs at the base of the steps had never been poured properly and the side nearest the steps stuck up roughly two inches. My Mom was always on my Dad’s back about fixing it but to date, he hadn’t.

My Mom ran up screaming, “WHAT HAPPENED! HIS LEG’S BROKEN!” 

Enter my best friend and personal hero, one James Edward Short.
“Mrs Hamilton, we were playing here in the yard with Bruce and when he ran back to the house, he tripped over that sidewalk block.” I believe my Dad’s exact words were, “Oh shit.” Mom turned on him like a ravenous lioness and I was suddenly off the hook.

Now I don’t want to have you believe that Jim was a liar. He was more of a pragmatist but that’s not the point of this story. Jim showed he was a true friend that day and for the rest of his life. It was that quality that put him on a slightly elevated personal pedestal, to me anyway. 

Jim Short was a solid guy and I miss him dearly.