September 28 2017 Fifty-nine years ago, on September 27, 1958, three young men in New Orleans were wandering the French Quarter, looking for something to do. They went to a movie, had dinner at a restaurant called The Steak Pit, and went to Pat O’Brien’s. Around midnight, they still felt that they evening was incomplete, so one of them made a suggestion that they should “roll a queer,” i.e. beat up a gay man. The others agreed. In the early morning hours of September 28, 19

I’ve had two committed, long-term relationships in my adult life: the first ended after twenty years, the second is currently ending after twelve. My first partner, Charlie (I was never legally able to call him my husband) is now a dear friend. It’s hard not to be. We’ve known each other nearly forty years, and we have a lot of shared history. In fact, he has been one of the mainstays of my support system as I work through my divorce with Aaron, my second long-term partner,