That said, the working conditions for LGBT employees of all ages can vary in the same company, depending upon the mentality of middle management. If the middle manager, is influenced by any number of variables such as religious beliefs, familiarity with gay and transgender people, race, and gender, and does not ascribe to his or her company’s values, the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender worker is vulnerable to increased risk of harassment.

When considering hostile working conditions, we’re encouraged to allow for the possibility of the worst behavior in the workplace, such as physical and emotional abuse, but to also focus on the problems created by unconscious incompetence. Excluding examples of termination, hiring discrimination, and overt hostility, the majority of LGBT people in the workplace complain about feeling isolated because of their sexual orientation or gender variance. Fear of isolation is what keeps many LGBT people in the closet. The isolation is created by the lack of social interactions with colleagues, especially conversations on personal life.

One of the challenges in creating a clear picture of workplace issues for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and gender variant seniors is that the culture is changing so quickly that the picture will never be complete or reliable. For instance, marriage equality is not at this moment the law of the land, but it may be in a few months. While progress is being made in state by state passage of non-discrimination ordinances, there are now efforts to pass statewide legislation that grants religious liberty to employers and employees to discriminate on the basis of their personal beliefs. Eventually, the Federal Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA) will be passed, but probably not for many years. The current fear of gender variance on the part of many members of Congress keeps the legislation locked up. That will change, or the legislation will change, and it will be passed, but it will still not cover housing and public accommodation, which might have an impact on a discussion of LGBT workplace issues. If a gay senior faces discrimination in housing, is it practical for him or her to live near the workplace?

We are aware of the quickly-changing culture, which in the Western world is becoming more comfortable with the full range of sexual orientation and gender expression, and we are aware of the increase in protective legislation. But, understanding the challenges faced by senior lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender workers means being aware of the rapidly-paced changes in language and attitudes in those communities. When I first began work as an educator on these issues, it was about gay people. It then became about lesbian and gay people. Bisexuality was soon added to the topic. Then, transgender issues became part of the discussion. Not long ago, the organization that was originally called the National Gay Task Force changed its name to include letters in the acronym to accommodate the issues of people who identify as queer, questioning, intersex, and asexual. Further, the new preferred term for transgender people is gender variant, and the new preferred term for transitioning (the process of physically becoming one’s true self) is realignment. Sex reassignment surgery is now called sex confirmation surgery. I need to constantly update my educational resources on the topic because of these changes.

What began as a workplace concern in the United States, with my introducing the topic as a business issue in 1985, is now being discussed throughout the world because of the multi-national identity of most major corporations. Creating an office culture that is welcoming to LGBTQQIA people is not just important in New York, but in Mumbai too. Wall Street banks brought me to India, Japan, Hong Kong, and Singapore to train their senior managers on gay and transgender issues. That work has rapidly expanded throughout those countries, and many others. Understanding LGBT senior workplace issues requires familiarity with the cultures of those individual countries, especially as they relate to age, sexual orientation, and gender variance.

Gay and transgender discrimination has become an issue of importance to the United Nations. The Roman Catholic Church is said to be softening its approach because of the view expressed by Pope Francis, “Who am I to judge?” Gay issues are now part of the discussion on where the Olympics will be held. Economic sanctions are being imposed on countries that discriminate against gay people. The words “lesbian,” “gay,” “bisexual,” and “transgender” were all used by President Obama in his State of the Union address in 2015.

Another component of the discussion is the very important shift in approaching the transgender topic. The number of people in a society who identify as transsexual or as transgender is very small, but the number of people who are discriminated against because of the variance of their gender expression is huge. Heterosexual men who are considered effeminate, and heterosexual women who are considered masculine, can experience more discrimination on the job than a masculine gay man or a feminine lesbian. And what is considered acceptable behavior or expression for males and females varies from culture to culture. Hand holding by heterosexual men is common in India but not in Great Britain.

One more thing to consider when analyzing workplace concerns for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people is the differences between the individuals. Some LGBT people are highly-qualified, and are likely to be accommodated easily. People who bring in money are highly valued despite their age. If the senior gay person in question is black, Latino, female, foreign, Muslim, economically-challenged or has a disability, he or she will generally fare less well than a gay white Christian male, at least in the United States. If the transgender person in question is transsexual, and passes easily because he or she fits neatly in the male or female box, and are physically attractive, they will fare much better than the person who after realignment does not look attractive and easily identifiable as a man or woman. Cross-dressing men have a much more difficult time than cross-dressing women, partly because of sexism, and partly because they sometimes don’t pass easily as a female. If the person’s appearance is considered by others as “peculiar,” it is more likely he or she will suffer discrimination in the workplace.

Realtors tell us that the primary factor in selling a house is location, location, location. My message to companies is that the only reliable way to create a workplace that feels safe to lesbian, gay, bisexual, and gender variant people of all ages is education, education, education. Most people want to be supportive but don’t know how. They don’t start conversations with gay or transgender people because they fear making a mistake, so they keep quiet. The silence is interpreted as hostility or at least disapproval. Education through diversity training creates more competent and confident allies, and lowers the chances of unwelcoming behaviors. In addition to continuing education, a company that wants to diminish the chances of discriminating against LGBT seniors needs to nurture an LGBT employee resource group that will help the company stay current in properly adjusting to the changes in the culture, the rules, and the issues.

According to the State of Georgia Department of Labor, 4.7% of the workforce is 65-years-of-age or older. Pew Research speculates that by 2022, 31.9% of people 65 to 74 will still be working. In the private sector, 6.48% of those people will be LGBT seniors, according to the Williams Institute on Sexual Orientation Law and Public Policy. For the foreseeable future, more people will need to work past the traditional retirement age of 65 in order to make ends meet. A significant percentage of those people are lesbian, gay, bisexual, and gender variant.

Perhaps the dream is prompted by my struggle with the idea of retirement, or having been fired for being gay at age 26, or almost always working for myself, or maybe it’s because it took many years before my father and mother accepted that educating others on lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) issues was a real job. It’s a bad dream that takes me a while to shake.

Yet, for many people my age and younger, there is no waking from the bad dream, and there is no shaking off the emotional toll it takes. Being unemployed, and needing money, are the most pressing issues of their lives. They fear running out of money before they die, and ending up being dependent on others to survive.

The people who live these nightmares most often are older workers who, regardless of their sexual orientation or gender identity, have watched the depletion of their savings, and the diminished value of their skills. They have either lost, or fear they soon will lose, their jobs because of profit loss, automation, or their inability to keep pace with information technology.

If these unemployed older people are lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender, their situation may feel more precarious. In addition to feeling less needed, they may also feel less wanted. If they’re closeted, they may be seen as lacking the fortitude to face the challenges of the ever-changing workplace. Closeted LGBT people, I suspect, are rarely unknown, and often disparaged as unable to lead. If they’re out of the closet, they may fear that being out will be a factor in their not being kept or re-hired. Despite how many corporate promises are made about not discriminating on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity, many people feel that the promise only counts in the war for talent when the gay or transgender employee is seen as exceptional in what they do. Additionally, most states allow for such workplace discrimination.

If, indeed, your nest egg has been depleted because the value of your house has depreciated, you’ve had unexpected health care costs, or your pension was cut, you have no alternative but to find work. But what work? How does the 55-year-old gay man find work after his money-making “companion” dies, and leaves the bulk of his assets to his children and grandchildren? The single lesbian near retirement is not seen as being as needy of steady income as the man who has dependents. If she is let go in downsizing, how does she find work to make up the lost income? And, what if you’re an older person who is transsexual? Where does the average, senior, transgender person find work unless he or she is extraordinary at what they do?

The old career development resource book, “What Color is Your Parachute” and every similar book published since, tells us that our best chance of finding a job is knowing someone who can help. Job hunters are encouraged to make lists of the people they know who might be able and willing to pull strings or make introductions. What good connections do older LGBT people have? What if they have pulled back from straight family and friends because they wanted to be out and proud? Are their gay or straight friends comfortable putting their reputations on the line by making a call or giving them a letter of recommendation? Will the names of younger lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender employees be on the list of possible connections? Do younger LGBT employees relate to, or even like, their older counterparts? Are corporate LGBT Employee Resource Groups (ERG), headed by younger workers, aware of the struggles of Baby Boom gay and transgender employees, and do they see such issues as worthy of their attention, and of inclusion in their limited budget?

In the corporate world, finding allies who understand and support your issues is critical to having your needs championed. While older workers, in general, can feel alienated by the attitudes of younger workers, it can be particularly disenfranchising for a senior lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender worker. To hear the offensive word “queer” used as a proud self-description by younger LGBT employees, and to see that there is no awareness on the part of youth of the many sacrifices that have been made to create such a welcoming work environment for them, can prompt senior workers to pull away from ERGs. Younger workers can be seen as ungrateful upstarts who are competing for the jobs needed to secure the older worker’s sustainability. Older employees can be seen as stubborn and out of touch with cultural advances, and as obstacles to promotions.

If older LGBT workers hope to secure the support of younger LGBT workers, attention must be given to changing attitudes. Older transgender workers are sometimes seen by many younger transgender job seekers, not as pioneers, but as sad vestiges of the time when people felt forced to pick one gender over the other. Today’s youth are far more fluid in their queer identity, and feel less the need for full transition surgery. Closeted older, lesbian, gay, and bisexual workers can be seen by some younger LGB employees as roadblocks to the success of equal treament in the workplace, especially in regional offices and foreign countries. Focusing attention on the issues facing LGBT seniors requires corporate ERGs to ask seniors questions about the challenges they face, and about how best to be allies.

Outside the workplace, unemployed gay and transgender seniors, like their heterosexual peers, can find support in their search for work from AARP, the American Association of Retired People. AARP has a 17% success rate in finding work for its members. But unemployed older LGBT people can also get training and guidance from SAGE, Services and Advocacy for Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual & Transgender Elders, a national organization with regional affiliates. They have a 25% success rate in helping senior clients find employment.

That still leaves 75% of the LGBT seniors who have sought help from SAGE, and the many more who haven’t heard of, or tried to get such help, living daily in the nightmare that only occasionally visits me in my dreams. If young lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender activists are looking for the next cause to take on after marriage equality, the bread and butter issues of LGBT seniors is an issue needing immediate attention.

To be surprised is to be startled, or taken unaware. To be shocked involves judgment.

The first time I saw a bearded man in a dress was 40 years ago. There were four of them in what was called “Skag Drag” at the time. I was speaking on gay issues at the University of Michigan, and they walked in dramatically, and sat on the floor in front of me. I was startled by their entry, and I was shocked by their appearance. I had never seen hairy drag queens before, so it took a little while for me to sort through my thoughts on their gender expression.

A handsome, young, bearded man just won a major European singing competition. I was surprised that he won, because of what he wore, but not shocked by his appearance. He sang in a dress. Apparently, some Russian men are so shocked by his appearance, and by the acclaim he received, that they are now shaving off their beards. They no longer consider facial hair a sign of masculinity. Shaving off their beards feels like a bit of an over-reaction. It might have been easier for them if they decided just not to wear a dress.

I watched the video clips of Conchita Wurst singing Rise Like a Phoenix in the Eurovision Song Contest, seen live by 170 million people. When not in drag, the Austrian singer’s name is Thomas Neuwirth. Thomas, who sees himself as a man, might have won the award without the golden dress, but wearing it allowed him to express herself more comfortably, and enthusiastically. She did a beautiful job with the song. He should be very proud of himself.

Having been exposed over the years to people such as Thomas/Conchita, whom I admire and love, I’m no longer shocked by the multiple ways people express their gender. Having a face to put on the issue of diversity in gender expression eliminated any fear or judgment I might have initially had.

I don’t remember the first time I saw two men kiss in public, but I do recall sitting in the movie theater in 1982 watching Making Love, when Michael Ontkean kissed Harry Hamlin. Some members of the audience made loud sounds of disgust. They were shocked. I was surprised by their response. Didn’t they know what the movie was about?

Michael Douglas turned down the role played by Ontkean. So did William Hurt. Either they, or their agents, felt it was too risky for a straight actor to kiss another man. It was shocking. A few years later, Hurt won an Oscar for playing a transgender, gay man in prison in the film, The Kiss of the Spider Woman. And, more recently, Michael Douglas won an Emmy for his portrayal of the flamboyant, gay man, Liberace. Sometimes, we get past the things that scare us, and the results are very rewarding. It takes time, exposure, and effort to go from being shocked to being surprised.

There’s been some public gasps of disgust at the televised kiss that the football player Michael Sam gave his boyfriend Vito Cammisano. Sam had just been drafted by the St. Louis Rams. It was an emotional moment for Sam, as he became the first openly gay player to be drafted in the NFL. Although many people across the country were perhaps surprised by the kiss, they nevertheless cheered its display. However, there were also some people who were shocked by it, and who tweeted their disgust. The media reported that a couple of football players took great exception to the kiss, and a conservative Christian commentator urged that Sam and Cammisano undergo conversion therapy to turn them straight. No mention was made as to whether they could, or should, then grow beards. Signs of masculinity are in question. But kissing on the lips is forbidden by some, unless you’re from another country, such as Russia, where bearded men kiss each other on the lips.

I understand the experience of shock when we see something we’re not used to seeing. I remember bobbing as a youngster in the pool with a buxom friend of my mother. When her bathing suit top came off, I was shocked by the sight of her big breasts. I was also shocked when I first saw my grandma’s false teeth in a glass in the bathroom. I was shocked when I first heard of people sticking their tongues into each other’s mouths when they kissed. And when a teacher in high school held up a magazine that showed pictures of naked men, I lost my breath.

There is a lot going on in the world that is shocking to many of us. And much that is shocking is also frightening. I’m shocked by the speed with which polar ice caps are melting. I’m shocked when Buddhists kill Muslims, Muslims kill Christians, and Christians kill Jews, all with the alleged blessing of their God. I’m no longer shocked by the sight of large breasts, false teeth, French kissing, or pictures of naked men. That’s because of exposure, time, and the will to grow.

I suspect that many people who were shocked by Conchita Wurst’s gender-bending performance at the Eurovision song competition, or by the sight of Michael Sam kissing Vito Cammisano, will, with time and more exposure, have lives that celebrate such diversity. But they have to want to change. Some people, because of their religious beliefs, or their plain stubbornness, don’t want people like Conchita, Michael, and Vito in their lives. They don’t want to lose their sense of shock at people they disapprove of. Many of these people will go to their graves wanting to be shocked by life. That doesn’t surprise me.

I’m very grateful to the bearded men in dresses who shocked me 40 years ago, because they opened my world to Conchita Wurst. I celebrate her victory in the singing competition, and in putting a face on gender expression diversity for the whole world to see. I’m very grateful to Michael Ontkean and Harry Hamlin for accepting roles in a movie in which they kissed romantically and sexually when doing so was shocking to the majority of people. They helped me to start kissing my male friends, gay and straight, on the lips in public with more confidence and pride, and to clap enthusiastically with appreciation when Michael Sam and his boyfriend, Vito Cammisano, kissed on ESPN.

We choose to live our lives with delightful surprise or in constant shock. We create our heavens and our hells. From my experience, there can be no shock in heaven, here or in the improbable hereafter, except that which is caused by the awareness of one living thing’s cruelty to another living thing. That shouldn’t be surprising to anyone.

“No more than you do on Huffington Post,” I replied. “And, I end up reading the same things you do because of the links people provide.”

Like almost every person I know, regardless of age, sexual orientation, gender identity, race, or spiritual beliefs, my life has been dramatically impacted by the Internet. For me, it started with e-mail and Web pages, then YouTube, and now Facebook. I occasionally write something on Twitter, but only because people have signed up to follow me, and I feel guilty about not participating. But on Twitter, I don’t read other people’s entries. It’s mostly self-promotion, which gets old quickly. I haven’t yet gotten hooked by Instagram.

Ray and I do all of our shopping, banking, reading, corresponding, and research on the Internet. I haven’t opened a cookbook in years. If I want to know how to cook Beef Wellington, I Google it. We get weather reports, movie reviews, show times at our local theaters, the latest headlines, photos from family, and responses to texts, usually all while we’re watching television. Our GPS gadgets are obsolete, as are Christmas and birthday cards, desktop calendars, stationery, stamps, book shelves, malls, catalogs, checks, cameras, guide books, restaurant review books, telephones, and, most importantly, isolation. As long as I have access to the Internet and to electricity, it doesn’t matter whether I’m sitting in our living room in Ft. Lauderdale, or in a remote cabin in the Adirondacks, I’m as close to community as I choose to be.

When I begin to feel a little discouraged about the world of today and tomorrow, I scroll through Facebook and feel an instant connection with others who share not just my sentiments, but also my values. Looking at heart-tugging pictures or videos that some people offer makes me feel less anxious about the dire headlines in the New York Times. Reading inspirational quotes posted by others provides me the same spiritual uplift that I get from reading books of daily meditations.

“There’s so much junk on Facebook,” Ray said.

“Skip it,” I replied. “I only read what interests me. And, I click on ‘like’ to let people know I’m staying in touch with their lives.”

Recently, Ray and I celebrated our 38th anniversary, and my entry about it on Facebook prompted over 200 “likes,” and over 100 comments. I loved reading the messages, and each name from “likes” prompted a memory of the person, or an experience of surprise and delight that a stranger had bothered to offer best wishes to us.

Many of the people who are on my Friends list are gay and transgender people who live in other countries. I say “yes” to everyone who asks to be friends, except for straight women who are looking for a husband. It makes me happy to know that the loneliness and fear that I experienced as a child as a result of being gay in a gay-negative world aren’t necessary for young people in remote places. These young and old gay “friends” participate in Ray’s and my love through my posted updates and photos. Older gay and transgender people who feared isolation in their final years now have a way to stay connected with people like me who value their thoughts.

There are names that pop up more frequently than others when I scroll through my Facebook entries. Some people use Facebook as a means of expression more than others do. I often don’t know, and certainly don’t care, anything about the person’s age, appearance, education, or financial status. I know them by their patterns of expression, and of what they find of interest. Some people talk a lot about drinking or eating. Other people can be relied upon to comment on the latest outrageous statement by right-wing extremists. Mostly, I learn what people are feeling about their day. As a result, I find that I have developed a relationship with their spirits as opposed to with their human forms.

There are reasons why social programs on the Internet aren’t necessarily good for us. Face to face community building is heavily impacted because we needn’t look people in the eyes. Young people are perhaps now less skilled in interpersonal communication because they’re less practiced with reading facial expressions. Words are misspelled, or shortened to an agreed upon sign language. Handwriting is now block lettering. Thank you notes, letters, and old standards of written courtesy are nearly gone. But such radical change has happened in the past, and will happen again in the future. The invention of television made me much less likely to be outside as a child than my parents were. The stories the TV daily provided me made me less likely to seek distraction in a book. Every generation is impacted by advances in science and technology.

What I like about Facebook, and similar sites is the ability it provides us to create communities of people with whom we feel safe and valued. If you find that you have unknowingly added a friend who vexes your spirit, you can eliminate him or her from your world in the click of a button. If you choose to, you can spend your days connecting with grade school friends, second cousins, former lovers, fellow vacationers from exotic trips, other activists, other atheists, other fans of “Game of Thrones”, all in a simple scroll down of entries. You get access to the most popular YouTube offerings because a friend wants to share the joy, sorrow, hope, or amazement they experienced in watching it. The varied interests of your Facebook friends expands your awareness of world events, cultural trends, and family dramas.

The U.S. government so respects the power of Internet social media that it tries to introduce it to the populations of countries where community dialogue is supressed. The U.S. Government knows that if it can enable citizens in Third World countries to communicate electronically, democracy has a much better chance of emerging and succeeding.

The Catholic Church knows the power of social media too. The Pope writes a blog.

The iPad has replaced the television as a necessity of life. Young people who are looking for something to give their parents as a gift should stop looking. No senior ever has to dread going to a nursing home social gathering again, because he or she can now sit in his or her room and Skype with their grandchildren.

As a senior, gay man, I excitedly and gratefully open my Facebook page knowing I will never again feel alone. I don’t need to go to a bar or to a fundraiser to interact with gay or transgender people. I don’t need to go to a gay resort or to a gay neighborhood to feel the company of others like me. That, for me, is a great step forward for my generation, and those who followed. However, as Ray will remind me, it will admittedly never replace the human touch of his love.

In the past, I’ve prided myself on how many tasks I could take on in a day. For example, I would write a column, do the laundry, and decorate the house for the holidays. Friends and colleagues were initially shocked at how productive I was, and then it became expected. I was a multi-tasker who could be counted on to deliver what was requested, not just on time, but in perfect order. I was an excellent human doer. But I was not very good at the “being” part of the human experience. Smoking pot or drinking Chardonnay were the only things that interrupted the drum beat in my head; I eventually had to give those up because they were causing more problems than solutions.

Now I am getting very good at just being. It took me a while to let go of trying to save the world. I got very antsy without a project, feeling that my days were a waste of time, and that professionally I was retired. With time, it became okay not to know what day of the week it was. Now, it’s possible for me to sit on the sofa and slowly take in the sights of the art and furnishings around me. I can swim without planning dinner. I can focus on the center of the double blossom red hibiscus and not feel it has to have meaning beyond my experience of its beauty.

Some of the things I’ve become very aware of after 38 years with Ray are how extraordinarily kind he is to me, and of how much of his life is devoted to making me happy. My mind has been preoccupied on creating a well-functioning, comfortable, and happy life for us. I used to wake up daily with a list of things to do. It’s hard to really experience the love of another person when your attention is focused on things to do.

Recently, a nephew, niece and their two children came for a week’s visit. The youngest was six months old. Having lost two siblings in that age range, I’ve busied myself in the past when I was around infants, but this time I allowed myself to sit and hold this precious little girl, and to be quite content just watching her eyes move around the room.  I knew my job was to make her comfortable, which I did, but I gave myself the experience of just being with her. In doing so, I felt like I did in the hammock and on the rocks. I didn’t know what time it was. I was lost in the moment.

In my youth, I heard the wise counsel to live each day as if it was your first and your last. I was too busy then to pay much attention to the advice that my day should be filled with the awe of discovery and the gratitude of awareness. Today, I understand and embrace the truth that others tried to give me then so that I didn’t waste my youth. I know that my life experiences were normal for people my age, but I wish I had been more aware and appreciative of what I was experiencing. I wish I hadn’t been so focused on doing.

There are many plusses about aging. You worry less about competing. You often have the means not to be dependent upon the approval of others. You give yourself permission to color outside the lines, to break rules, and create your own schedules. But one of the most precious gifts of aging is the opportunity it provides to change yourself from a human doer to a person who can sit and accomplish nothing of value to others. It’s been referred to as the time for bucket lists, smelling the roses, and wearing more purple. But even then, you are being given a list of expectations of things to do.

This reminds me of a poster I once saw that said, “Sometimes I sits and thinks. And sometimes I just sits.” I’m very grateful to be able to just sit.

I, on the other hand, carefully write each letter of my name in the best penmanship possible, as if Sr. Digna were looking over my shoulder. I actually get frustrated when the machine doesn’t display all of my cursive writing. You’d have no trouble knowing who I am by the way I write my name. Or would you?

Many years ago, Lily Tomlin gave Ray and me a signed poster for the movie The Late Show. Her autograph is really big and loopy, written in Magic Marker. The poster was a thank you gift, and we hung it in our home with great pride. There is no mistaking whose signature it is. But what does it tell us about Lily?

Over the last four decades, Ray and I have entertained a lot of early leaders of the Gay Civil Rights Movement. We asked these guests if they would also sign the movie poster so that we might create a record of historic significance. We recently donated the poster to the Stonewall National Museum and Archives in Ft. Lauderdale. Almost all of the signatures that can still be seen are in easily read script. But what do the signatures really say?

Unlike our fingerprint, which is an un-chosen, distinguishing feature about each of us, our signature is a chosen representation of ourselves. “It is a written picture to show how you see yourself in relation to others,” wrote one authority on the subject. The way we write our name, with fierce, jagged lines, or loopy letters, tells the world not only who we think we are, but also how we experience life.

There is a science of handwriting analysis in which the trained observer can tell from our signature many things about us that we thought were hidden, such as if we are shy, outgoing, protective, emotionally stable, grandiose, or level-headed, among many other things. Handwriting analysis is a not a New Age phenomena. It has been around for many years and in many countries. Thinking that I was ordering a book on the philosophical significance of our signature, I received instead a guide to analyzing how to read a person’s personality by the manner in which he or she signed their name. How is the “i” dotted, and the “t” crossed? Is there a line above or below their name? Can you make out their name?

There is a difference between a signature and an autograph, I learned. Our signature is our representation of ourselves on legal documents, such as the “Z” on the grocery store credit card machine. Our autograph is what we give in response to requests of keepsakes, such as the names on our donated historic artifact. Sometimes, the two appear the same, but often they do not. Lily Tomlin, for instance, may not sign checks in loopy letters. Outside factors can impact how we write our name, such as when we feel rushed for time. As we get older, our signatures can become less legible. But even our scribbles can be analyzed, and our natures revealed.

The names on the poster we donated to the Stonewall Museum include Jack McCarty and Victor Amburgy, the gay couple held captive with other traveling Americans by Muslim extremists in 1985. Had the captors of Pan Am Flight 847 known that Jack and Victor were gay, the couple likely would have been executed. I wonder if that horrifying experience is reflected in their signatures? Larry Bush, Vic Basile, Ginny Apuzzo, Gerry Studds, Tomie dePaola, Eric Marcus, David McWhirter and Drew Mattison, Sr. Jeannine Gramick and Fr. Bob Nugent, Elaine Noble, Kevin Jennings, Betty Berzon, and Bill Johnson, among others, signed our poster, too.

Do those names ring any bells? Probably not, but I wish they did. Just as many of the names on our poster are gone or fading, our community is losing its early leaders, and our history, on a daily basis. I wish their names and stories were indelible.

Larry Bush was the community’s earliest and best political reporter. Vic Basile was the first head of the Human Rights Campaign. Ginny Apuzzo, a former nun, was head of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force. Gerry Studds, who is deceased, was the first openly gay member of the U.S. House of Representatives. Tomie dePaola is the beloved author and illustrator of children’s books, including Oliver Button is a Sissy. Eric Marcus wrote Is It a Choice? and co-authored the autobiography of Greg Louganis, Breaking the Surface.

David McWhirter, MD, and his spouse, Drew Mattison, both deceased, wrote the popular, ground-breaking book The Male Couple. Sr. Jeannine Gramick and Fr. Bob Nugent, the latter recently deceased, founded New Ways Ministry in 1977, and immediately received the full wrath of the Catholic Church for their advocacy for gay people. Elaine Noble was elected as an openly-gay person to the Massachusetts House of Representatives in 1974, three years before Harvey Milk. Kevin Jennings founded the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network (GLSEN). Dr. Betty Berzon was a psychotherapist who came out in 1968, and edited or authored several early books, including Positively Gay and Permanent Partners. Bill Johnson is the first gay member of the clergy to be ordained by a mainline Christian denomination in the United States. They all made their marks in history and on our poster.

I’d be very interested in learning what a handwriting analyst would say about the signatures of these people on The Late Show poster. Is there any trait that connects all of them? How did these people want the world to see them? How did the struggles of the early gay movement impact their signatures? Are the signatures of LGBT people who faced horrible discrimination in the 1950s and 1960s different from those of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people who are coming out today?

As a result of reading the handwriting analysis book, I’m more conscious of the significance of a signature, mine and that of others. I need to think more about what I’m trying to say about myself when I sign my name, other than that I was taught by nuns.

When I finished sharing my thoughts about our bounty, the need for gratitude, and about those who have so much less, the football celebrity said, “If you had told me a year ago that I’d be sitting here with you guys, I would have told you that you were crazy.”

The next morning, in the produce section of the grocery store, I ran into one of our gay dinner guests who said, “If you had told me that we would love having a meal with two straight jocks, I would have told you that you were nuts. But we had a great, great time.”

“So did our neighbors,” I assured him.

There are lessons to be learned from the unexpected joy we experience in what we imagine will be awkward and uncomfortable situations. One lesson that I’ve learned is that we human beings have an amazing capacity to find common ground with those not in our comfort zone, that regardless of our age, we have the ability to learn from our new experiences, and that we take delight in our own growth.

Our gay, male friends, and our straight, football-playing, next-door neighbors ended up talking at dinner, mostly about movies and TV shows, but also about the best places to eat, and to have your car washed in Ft. Lauderdale. We also talked about the inherent challenges of being famous, about whether openly gay Michael Sam would feel comfortable in the Dolphin’s locker room, and of the funny stories that come from operating a gay, male, clothing-optional guesthouse. They made each other laugh, and they felt like friends for the time we sat together. All of them commented later that they had imagined a much different experience, and they were happy it was so much fun.

Another lesson that I take from this experience, and many others like it at our dinner table, is the awareness of how many people would love to join the circles of hand-holding that Ray and I, and many others, create. I’m not thinking here about just those who are starving, or who daily face horrific state or religion-sanctioned persecution because of their faith, sex, orientation, ethnicity, gender expression, or other factor. I’m thinking about all of the people who feel lonely, misunderstood, and powerless.

When I join hands with people in Ray’s and my home, I want them to feel safe and valued. Those feelings don’t come easily for many people. Part of the reason some people feel so isolated is that our fears of encountering them help isolate them. Because so many people are outside of our comfort zone, it becomes less likely that we’ll take their hand at the dinner table. I’m thinking of the person who is homeless, “deformed,” has been convicted of a crime, is dying, or is a prostitute or a cross-dresser, among others.

My experience is that when these people somehow get seated at the table, Ray and I get far more out of it than they do. The gift of holding the hand of someone who frightens you is that your mind and heart expand. It is no less a meaningful life experience than traveling to a foreign land, learning a new language, and tasting new food. Having someone scary “at your table” is all of that and more, because it is an experience in which you are not an observer, but rather a participant, a creator, and a game changer.

A few weeks after their first encounter, our straight neighbors and our gay friends were brought together again at our table. I noticed how easily conversations started as soon as they saw each other. Hands were held more readily. Laughter came more quickly. In my reflections on our bounty, the value of gratitude, and on those who feel alone and unwanted, I reminded them of the comments each made the last time about their shock and delight in meeting one other. They nodded, and then began debating which was the best of the movies inspired by Marvel comics.

We often speak to others as if they know what we’re talking about, and if they don’t, we sometimes assume that they’re ignorant. Recent French houseguests of Ray’s and mine had never heard of Tennessee Williams. I was astonished. They were perplexed when we didn’t know the names of the revered French singers they referenced in conversation.

Not long ago, our very bright, 28-year-old nephew told us he hadn’t seen the black and white Christmas film which we were referring to. “You’ve never seen The Bishop’s Wife?” I said in disbelief. “It’s the classic one with Cary Grant, Loretta Young, and David Niven. You’ve heard of them, right?” He awkwardly replied that he hadn’t. “Cary Grant was today’s George Clooney,” I explained. I was now speaking his language. We had a connection, a reference we shared.

The executive director of a city’s LGBT Community Center was visiting recently. This very sweet homosexual “expert,” who is also a friend, talked about the work he was doing. After a few moments, I commented, “You use the word ‘queer’ a lot.” He replied, “I wouldn’t have any credibility with the younger generation of our community if I didn’t.” I sighed, “But you lose credibility with my generation when you do.” Does President Museveni use the word “queer”?

In his second Inaugural Address, President Barack Obama linked Stonewall with Selma and Seneca Falls. I was deeply moved, but I suspect that most people listening to the President either didn’t know the meaning of “Stonewall,” or “Selma,” or “Seneca Falls,” or all three. A high school educational tool recently developed by the Stonewall National Museum and Archives cited the President’s speech, and explained the references to Stonewall, Selma, and Seneca Falls. In doing so, students learned some history of the LGBT, black, and women’s civil rights movements. Uganda President Museveni won’t know those words, though. Our “experts” shouldn’t use them. I hope they won’t use the acronym LGBT either.

Those of us who purport to be educators have to become culturally competent with our audience if we are to succeed in being understood, and in impacting a change in attitude or behavior. Many people in my generation of seniors, even those who are paid to communicate thoughts to a varied audience, assume that their lifetime references match those of all others. They expect to be understood, and if they are not, they are frustrated with the lack of sophistication of the reader or listener. Do you think the President of Uganda, who is currently allowing homosexuals to be imprisoned for life, knows the names “Alfred Kinsey,” or “Masters and Johnson”?

Even The New York Times, one of the best newspapers in the world, and the one I read daily, frequently is filled with references that make no sense to readers under age 35. A television reviewer will often write that a program has “jumped the shark.” A news commentator will say that a certain person “drank the Kool-Aid.” Even readers in my generation may feel unsophisticated or illiterate because they don’t know what the expressions refer to. In September 1977, the once very popular television program, “Happy Days,” aired an episode in which the leather jacket-clad character, Fonzie, jumps a shark while water skiing. The storyline was thought by critics to be the low point of the series, which thereafter went downhill, and was cancelled. In November 1978, nearly 1,000 fanatical followers of the Rev. Jim Jones committed suicide at his request by drinking a cyanide-laced fruit drink, similar to Kool-Aid. One could argue that the Uganda legislation “jumped the shark,” in being a ridiculous low point in the country’s history, and that the legislators “drank the Kool-Aid” in unquestioningly supporting a law inspired by an American Evangelical troublemaker. But President Museveni won’t know those references if they are used by our homosexual experts.

If these same State-Department designated emissaries lazily refer to a bisexual as being “AC/DC,” it’s unlikely that any Ugandan or young American, gay or straight, will know what the letters stand for. I had to look up the difference between alternating and direct electrical current.  In days past, a bisexual person, was often referred to as being AC/DC, capable of operating with either alternating or direct current. A bisexual was also called, “a switch hitter,” but if you’re not familiar with baseball, like our French friends, the expression is meaningless.

I don’t know what, if any, words will convince President Yoweri Museveni to repeal the horrible Ugandan law that criminalizes being a homosexual. If I were meeting with him, I’d first learn everything about the man that I could, not just his political and religious beliefs, but also his personal life, family, friendships, mentors, favorite pastimes. And I would personalize being gay by relating it to his own life experiences. Changing a person’s heart is far more effective than changing his or her mind. I might discover that President Museveni watches the film The Bishop’s Wife every Christmas, and that Cary Grant is his idea of a manly man. If so, I’d let him know that it is believed Cary Grant was at the very least bisexual, AC/DC, a switch hitter.

Finding common ground, and communicating in ways that can be understood, is essential in impacting another’s thoughts and feelings. That’s my expert opinion.

People in their 80s might laugh at me, feeling that at age 66 I’m still very young. And maybe I do have 20 years ahead of me to prepare for death. But I nevertheless spend an increasing amount of time imagining what it will feel like to say “good-bye” to Ray, or to have him do the same to me. I brought it up with him a couple of days ago, and he replied, “Stop it. You’re going to make me cry.”

Maybe it’s because I plan ahead with everything else in my life that I’m now thinking about the horror of having another person wipe my bottom. I wonder if I’m thinking about aging because I see an old man when I look in the mirror. It isn’t me, of course. I’m in my early 40s, despite what my passport says. But, when did my body start changing so dramatically?

Liposuction would take care of the love handles and the belly that seem unimpressed with my exercise and diet. I could get Botox injections and have a facelift. I could dye my grey hair a darker color. But where does this war with wrinkles stop, and at what point do I hear the voice that is telling me that I’m fighting a losing battle? I feel sad when I watch other people use plastic surgery to look artificially young. Maybe that’s why they call it “plastic.”

Being gay impacts how I think about aging. Gay men, like straight women, are aware we’re evaluated and rewarded by others based upon our youth and beauty. Handsome, young, gay men and pretty, straight women are called to the head of the line. Seeing our bodies age beyond our control confronts us with our loss of privilege, unless we’re rich. Experiencing privilege makes losing it more troubling. We fear we are becoming invisible.

Not having children also impacts how I experience aging. Currently, Ray and I are having a wonderful time pampering our grand nieces and nephews. As such, we feel like grandparents. But we’re not. We live with the awareness that when we age we can’t assume that anyone will feel motivated or obligated to ensure that we decline with dignity. That’s one reason why the thought of saying “good-bye” to your spouse is so scary. Neither Ray nor I have felt lonely in 38 years.

Older gay and lesbian people who are wealthy might feel that they can buy safety, comfort, and dignity in their waning years. Ray and I have tried to make sure we can afford to live securely in our old age. But money doesn’t guarantee you won’t feel “tolerated” by a nurse or home health care worker. You lose power when you depend on others to drive, cook, give you your pills and injections, and bathe you.

Gay men who are HIV-positive may have greater fears than I do about how I might be treated in an assisted-living facility. Will their health care be so complicated that no one will want to keep track, or worse, make judgments about the man’s worth because of how he got infected? He probably feels safer now in the company of other HIV-positive people.

Do you know what makes this rumination about aging even worse? Ray and I don’t want to be around old, gay men, most likely because we don’t want them to think we’re like them. We go to matinees, take naps, and eat early, but we’re different from the old, gay men we see. We take lots of pills, I need eye drops, and I use a gadget to hear the television dialogue, but Ray and I prefer the company of young people because we think of ourselves as equally hip.

It seems as if I’m not the only gay person who is thinking about aging. Gay senior housing projects are springing up all over the country. Some of the housing is very posh, such as that in Santa Rosa, California, and some is designated as affordable, such as that in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The push for gay senior housing is due to the growing awareness that aging gay men and women, and transgender people too, want to spend their final years out of the closet, unafraid of the sentiments of other residents or of staff. We fear the horrible marginalization we experienced in our youth. We never want to have to endure such proselytizing, judgment, or loneliness again. Whatever it takes, we want to feel safe and valued.

Despite the often-quoted Bette Davis statement, growing old is for sissies. We’re not exempt. The unique challenges we face make growing old not something we want to do without forethought. Aging and preparing to die requires awareness, honesty, acceptance, planning, and gratitude. Unrealistic expectations of how good and easy it will be for us will only create suffering. Maybe it’s not silly to start thinking about it now.

If you imagine all of those different cars pulling into a parking lot, and all of the drivers exiting to a building, you’d never know who went with what car body, and you wouldn’t judge the drivers’ skills at lawyering, accounting, or information technology by the model or color of the cars they drove. And yet, we often make decisions about a person’s skills by looking at the design and the color of the body they move around in.

Not only do we make personal and professional decisions about others based upon the age, structure, and color of their bodies, but also as to whether their bodies behave in the way we think the designer intended. "That’s a Corvette muscle car. Drive it faster and with more aggression." "That’s a pink VW Beetle. Slow down." "You’re a man. I expect more of you." "You’re a woman. Should I expect a pregnancy leave?" Boys and girls are models for which we imagine we know the designer’s intentions. When the bodies don’t comply with our expectations, we make decisions about their true worth.

The new focus of our civil rights battle is the discrimination faced by anyone whose gender expression is diverse. You may be thinking I’m talking about transgender people. But, the "T" in LGBT actually stands for all of us, gay and straight, who aren’t "manly" men or "girly" women.

If you think about it, bullying of non-conforming gay and straight kids has the same scarring effects, and is not different from the discrimination experienced by people who identify as transgender. A sissy is a sissy is a sissy. But that says nothing about his skills as a doctor.

A college fraternity brother of mine was one of the most effeminate men I’d ever met. He was as affected as every campy gay character on television today. People used to pull me aside and whisper, "Your friend is a fag." But, he’s straight. I suspect that he has suffered social disapproval and discrimination similar to that I’ve faced in my life.

Most gay men experienced discrimination in school, not because their peers imagined them engaging in sex with other boys, but because they didn’t act in a "manly" way. They cried. They couldn’t catch a baseball or football, or hit the backboard with the basketball. They played with the girls. That’s transgender behavior because it is outside of the box of what is expected for a boy. The word "trans" means across. When a boy cries or is not athletic, his behavior moves away from "male." Straight boys and gay boys can both be a part of the big T.

The majority of gay and straight men say they don’t understand the transgender issue. They want to be supportive of the caboose at the end of the acronym, but they don’t get why anyone would want to have his penis cut off, or to dress up in women’s clothes, except on Halloween or at Mass.

Many lesbians have no use for male-to-female transsexuals, and some are outright hostile to transsexual women who want to attend "women only" events, or participate in women’s sports. Some lesbians see cross-dressing men as offensive in their caricature apparel of wigs, lipstick, fake eyelashes, nylons, long dresses, and jewelry. All of those items, they say, have been worn by women to please men, and are thus symbols of the patriarchy. A dress doesn’t make a man into a woman, they insist. Nor does having a vulva.

But, many lesbians are transgender too. They’re too good at sports to be girls. They shun traditional "girly" attire. When they get married as lesbians, one of them is often in a tuxedo, like a groom. Many lesbians love to watch men play professional sports. Some eschew cooking anything but basic food. Those are examples of gender expression deviance or diversity. As soon as a girl or woman engages in the roles of men, or dresses in the clothes of men, she is in movement away from cultural expectations of her biological sex. That’s transgender.

The phrase "gender expression diversity" is a much bigger, and more accurate, umbrella expression than is the word "transgender." Using the broader term frees us to focus attention on the real problem at work. If corporations and other entities only focus attention on providing health care coverage for transsexual medical procedures, and on which bathroom a "T" should use, instead of on the organizations’ strict adherence to traditional gender expression among all of their employees, they’re not dealing with the bigger and far more significant business issue.

Will a straight man with limp wrists and a lisp be considered for hiring or promotion? Will a straight woman with a deep voice, mannish clothes, and well-developed biceps be seen as the best person to speak for the team to the client? He’s supposed to be a Corvette muscle car. She’s supposed to be a pink VW Beetle. But how much does the car we drive tell others about the skills we have, and the business we’ll attract? What do our bodies have to do with our skills?

Gender expression diversity is the underlying theme of most workplace discrimination, and the primary source of the loss of productivity, retention, and sales. It is a systemic assumption that a car and its driver are the same, and that we know best about the intention of the designer of the vehicle. I am not my car, and I am not my body.