On the way back my sister’s car, after brunch, Sunday, I passed a young boy, about ten, dawdling after his mother. Out of the blue, I flashed back on myself at that age, and with a certainty I can’t begin to explain, I knew that young boy was gay. I found myself praying to whatever that he would have an easier time coming to an understanding and appreciation of himself than my generation of young boys did.
He will have the blessing of places in which he’ll find support, and I thank the great whatever for that. My generation walked blindly, hoping, as Tennesee Williams phrased it, for the kindness of strangers.