Going Back Home

I grew up in a smallish town in western New York. The sort of place that cannot call itself a suburb of one of the bigger cities like Buffalo or Rochester. At best it rates "bedroom community" status. Of course we did not know that growing up there. Into the 70's it was the sort of place where folks did not lock their doors and has much more of a Midwest feel than that of urban "New York". Farms abound, driving to town is still a big deal, and they call it "pop" if you are asking for a carbonated beverage. I think there are more cows than people in the county of my birth. I think you get the picture.

My folks still live there in the house I grew up in. My Brother, and family, lives in a suburb of Rochester. All of my Dad's relatives live within a 35 mile radius. In fact, I am the only one that moved away. I tell you this to set the stage for these reflections on a short holiday visit I just made there. And of course this was my first time returning to my hometown as my trueself.

About a month ago the topic of the holidays came up.  I was asked by my parents if I would come to see them.  Mind you this would be a solo journey as my two sons would be with their mother for all of the holiday break.  This an artifact of the deal I had to make to 1) Keep my boys together as much as possible, 2) Honor my oldest son's wish that he be in my house on most school nights.  There is a lot more to that saga, but suffice to say, save for a 24 hour period, I do not get to see my kids over the holidays.  

Anyhow I digress, the question was put.  Are you coming?  I reminded them that I was "me" all the time now, there was no "going back".  They said that would be fine.  After a few weeks I posed another question.  "Who knows?", the answer, "almost nobody".  They had told some family friends who do not live in town a few months ago.  I had gotten a very nice supportive phone call from those friends.  They are winter birds, at least I think that is the term.  They spend a good part of the winter in Florida.  As such, they knew something about transfolk.  It seems they had followed the events around Susan Stanton, and so were well aware of things.  Their take, she got a raw deal.  And so that was it, they were supportive and happy for me.  A nice thing, considering I had felt these folks were surrogate parents for me in high school.  And to be clear, I had dated their daughter in high school too.  I wonder if they have told her yet...

But that left everybody else in town that they know, and all of my extended relatives, who live about 25 miles away.  Basically everybody they deal with on a daily basis.  They had told nobody.  I am not faulting them.  It is probably embarrassing to say your son is an [insert your favorite misunderstood trans term here].  I have an uncle in a nearby town.  They refer to him as Uncle Blabbermouth.  They are convinced upon his learning of this he will trot off to the local diner and hold court, explaining it all to everybody in town.  And of course without being encumbered with any facts his job will be easy.

And there is the issue.  My parents have to come out too.  They do not know how to do it.  But my imminent arrival dictates that it will need to be done.  So I write them a letter from me to their friends/relatives that they can use as a lubricant and explanation.  They like the note.  There is a recent photo of me so folks get the idea.  I send this weeks before my trip.  So I ask a couple days before my trip, "Who knows now?"  "Nobody."  Still.  They are scared I think.

They have some best friends in town.  You know the type.  They sometimes show up at the house unannounced.  Especially if they know long lost offspring are in town.  I posed to Mom, "If you like I can drop by their place on the way in to town and do the deed for you."  It is a genuine offer.  I want to spare them the pain.  About 2 hours later I get a text.  "We told them".  "And it is no big deal".  I think they are relieved.  But that was the end of their telling.

This is all of course preamble for the actual visit.  As I am driving the near eight hours north I ponder what the deal will be when I get there.  Will it be ok?  Will they be uncomfortable?  They have seen photos.  Mom saw me in person last Feb.  It cannot be a big shock, can it?  As I finally pull into town I head to a plaza near my parents home and park in the lot and fix my makeup (yeah I am that sort).  Take a deep breath and drive on.  

The initial reaction is uneventful.  They are happy to see me.  They have held dinner for me.  There are no compliments offered.  No, "you look nice", "love your hair", "wow did that surgery hurt".  None.   I can see they are trying.  Trying for it to be a normal visit.  There are the initial discussions about plans, and days and times for the remaining holiday events.  But from the beginning, I am "he". "his", "him", and "[Old Name]".  I decided to respond with things like "are you talking to me?", and "who?".   Once they see it is bugging me they try harder.  "Blah blah blah he, blah he, blah blah his, oh shit, I meant she".    

I probably react poorly.  Since going full time I have not been "he'd" that much in a very short period of time.  I basically got a years worth of real world "he's" in an hour.  It was too much for me.  I actually asked them, do I look like a he?  Probably out of line.  But if I did, or acted like one, I could get it.  But I don't, and so I didn't.

I leave the house and head to my hotel, somewhat dejected.  I can go anyplace else in this town and they will all say "she" and "her".    The proof is everyplace.  The clerk at the hotel, "Checking in ma'am?"   As I am unlocking the door to my hotel room a very young boy, perhaps all of two years old yells down the hall to me.  "Hello Momma!".  He keeps coming, his dad in tow.  He turns to dad and points at me.  "That's a momma Daddy".  Now I know kids have X-Ray vision.  But even this two year old looked at me and saw a woman.  

I get situated.  Then decide I need a drink.  I go out in search of a place in town, which oddly enough, I find quickly, it is a small town after all.  I go in.  This is a straight place.  Very straight.  I sit at the bar and order.  I get a drink and a smile from the pretty bar keep.  The crowd is much younger than me, not all of them, just most.  There are no stares, no gawking, nothing.  I finish the drink, my goal accomplished.  As I walk out a fellow more nearly my age offers me his nuts.  Ok it was a jar of nuts, but he offered them just the same.  And does so with a big smile.  It is a flirt I am sure.  I take a few, say thanks, and move on.  

I ponder the day.  Confounded, why can't my parents see what everybody else sees?

The next day I head back to their house after running errands around the town.  Again chit chat, etc.  At one point I ask Dad what is the deal.  He says to me "I will be honest.  You have impressed the hell out of me.  But in my heart you will always be [old name]."  He meant it not in a hurtful way.  He is grieving, I can see it.  At the same time he can see that I am ok, and will be ok.  

Later I talk more to Mom.  She expresses frustration about the pronoun thing.  She says well it is hard going back and forth.  I said "What?"  I have been mostly FT since April and 100% since Sept.   There is no back and forth.  She said "well there is for us."  You see when she talks about me to other people it is still "he".  Because "they" are not out.  I begin to see the problem.  I transitioned, they have not even started. 

I go shopping with Mom.  Last time we did this it was a disaster.  She "he'd" me in front of the staff.  I figure we needed to get that demon exorcised.  So we went to Penney's.  Yeah, there is one in that small town, go figure.  I tell her, just resist the need to talk about me to other people for now.  That way there will be no need to worry about slipping up.  We go, we shop, look at clothes together, jewelry, etc etc.  It really is a mother and daughter event.  I buy some things, so does she.

Later that night there is a dinner at a restaurant.  My brother, his wife, and three teenage nieces will be present.  They all know, and have seen photos.  My brother has seen me in person, the rest of his family has not.  My middle niece greets me with a big smile and hug.  We have been chatting a lot online since she found out.  She has been totally supportive.  The younger one is aloof, but friendly, I think it is mostly I am from out of town, and she does not know me so well.  The older one, now 17, was initially very skeptical, she did not talk to me for 4 months after learning of  my transition. 

But the dinner goes very well, I am surrounded by the girls.  We are getting along famously, and my parents can see this.  I think they are surprised.  None of my nieces seem to have the same pronoun problems.  My middle niece, 15, leans into me and says.  "I feel so much closer to you now."  I tell her, "that is because we now have some things in common."  We are both "teenage" girls.  Later on the way home I get my Christmas present.  My oldest niece sends me a TXT.  I have pasted it here, it is just easier for you to read it.

Hi! Just wanted to take the time to say it was so nice meeting the real you! I am so happy that you are genuinely happy with the way you are! I hope you come up again soon or if not I would love to fly down for a weekend and hang out and catch up and tell me about your new and happier life! I love you so much! And can't wait to see you again! I will definitely miss you!          XOXOXO.
Yours truly. L. <3

I cry.

The next day is Christmas Eve.  I head back to their house again.  We will exchange gifts, and have a nice dinner.  I mount an LED TV to the wall for Mom.  A chore I would have done before.  It is good that they see I am still me in many ways.  

When Dad and I go out to get the mount for the TV we head to Lowes.  I realize this is his first time out with just me.  I pay for the mount.  In front of the the register clerk he says outloud, thank you Sharon.  He is really trying here.  Later at home I say to him, you know other than dinner last night, that was the first time you have been out with me.  I asked if he was at all uncomfortable.  He said no, and that is seemed pretty normal.

 

We open presents.  My gifts are all addressed to Tracy Sharon.  Among them are a set of gold hoop earrings.  No kidding.  Then I open the big box and inside is a handmade quilt from my mother.  She embroiders the back with a title block stating who made it for who and when.  It sports my initials "T.S.".  She probably has been working on it for a couple years.  Who knows when she did the title block.  But even then she knew to not use the old name.  I cry again.  It is lovely.  A family heirloom for certain.

The last day I drop in for breakfast and pack up things that mom has asked me to take with me.  There are old books, some likely rare.  The unopened bottles from her liquor cabinet.  Board games. A really nice sewing machine.  It seems like mom is cleaning out the house in anticipation of days to come.  She is a planner.  And of course there are culinary goodies for me and the boys to eat. My truck is full, breakfast is done.  Time for me to go.  We embrace.  The hugs are different now.  I cannot describe them.  "More loving" perhaps.  Maybe it is how parents hug their daughters.