Sometimes, Even An Ordinary Day Can Seem Like "Now, Voyager!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

                         I have not thought or written about this film, for a long time.  I still stand by the idea that all young gay men should view this film, because it is a subtext for our childhood and adolescence; as children, we are Tina Durrance, as adolescents the pre-transformed Charlotte Vale.

                         As a marked late child, myself, my parents were the opposite of Gladys Cooper in this film.  I was not repressed, but indulged.  I never ended up smoking secretly in my room, as I never took it up, nor hid forbidden literature from my parents, because they knew I would read it anyway.
"Peyton Place" and "Valley Of Dolls" were game changers for me.  Along with "Gone With The Wind," and "The Song Of Bernadette."  Go figure.  But that's me.

                        Because of my health issues, (I was a two month preemie, born with a hole in the lower left ventricle of my heart, which had to be corrected before puberty, or I would have died at the age of fourteen, and where would I be now?)   I think my parents were scared of losing me, so no  one tried to crush me, like Charlotte.  Except the teachers at Irving School; Mr. Minter, the exception.

                        What all this is leading up to is, no matter how great things are going, they can turn very "Now, Voyager."  I have anxiety and take meds, so I am a little better than Charlotte, and I have love.  But, on Saturday morning, when I found out that my friend, and former supervisor, George Louis Mayer, had passed away on Thursday, at the age of 88, things ratched up to "Now, Voyager!"

                         I shall write a tribute for George when I feel I am ready, which is not right now. Just like I did, for former colleague, Dan Cherubin.

                         You may recall the post I wrote about visiting the renovated Child's, on Coney Island, and how it reminded me of the pavilion in the film "Carnival Of Souls."  George was with us, and, this I will remember; when we parted, for our respective trains, he asked if we would mind him staying on for a bit, by himself.  Concerned for his health, we asked if he felt all right, and he said yes. And so he stayed.  It meant nothing, at the time, now I wonder if there was something he knew that we did not, and that this was to be his last visit to Coney Island.

                          He died suddenly, on October 5, en route to a concert.  When he was found, it looked like he was getting ready to go out the door.  He was always en route to something, so it was a fitting, dignified end.

                          Most queens, and all movie mavens, know the famous closing line in "Now, Voyager," which is when Charlotte says to Jerry, "Oh, don't let's ask for the moon; we have the stars."
I have always thought it the perfect ending to this gold standard of tear jerkers, but I wish to revise it here for my closing line.

                           Grab them both, while we can!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!