How Brokeback affected me

[estefue]

Likewise Basqueboy.  There is no more horrible feeling than sitting by the phone waiting for that special person to call.  You were very brave to send  your message and I wish you the best of luck.

[Oregondoggie]

Basqueboy, that was very brave of you. The waiting might seem endless but you'll have your answer one way or another and hopefully you can move on to better things. You make me want to reach out and hold you just to make the time pass easier. Anyway perhaps you own jack is lurking around the corner...waiting

Basqueboy, you reach into the heart of this Brokeback for a lot of us.  I'm slowly moving towards a letter to my "Ennis".  Like you, no re-lighting the fire, but to see what he really then felt in our seminary (prison).  He was a best friend and I wouldn't mind that again... 

Oregondoggie

[Mejack]

MeJack (or Paul)
. . . I come periodically to see if you have posted another touching beautiful story from your life.
Hoping to be moved again by you.

Thanks,
MarkC

Since my previous posts, many have encouraged me to write more.  I need to write it, and I appreciate your undertanding.  The memories bombard my mind, all disjointed and out of sequence.

Shackled to the seat, my ankle hurts from the rubbing of the leg irons. Five hours in the prison bus, seven or eight men, feet linked together by a chain, and hands cuffed. The barred bus windows covered with wire mesh, were cracked opened a little, while the Florida late-summer sun beat down unmercifully.

I'd heard about Raiford.  That hell-hole with its chain gangs, and the expected abuse.  It was the deep South of 1954.  I was seventeen.  I was alone, and so afraid!

The first iron gate slammed shut behind us, as we drove through.  A few yards further and the second gate did the same.  The bus door opened.  A guard removed the chains and herded us through a doorway, down a long corridor, to a large open place.

"Welcome to New Cock Court," he said.  Years of prison slang had given name to the holding area for new arrivals.  "Oh God, why do they call it that," I thought? 

"Take off your clothes. Everything."  Trembling with fear, stripped bare, I stood there, waiting.  "Open your mouth." "Raise your arms."  "Bend over, spread your cheeks."  Not knowing what to expect next, and without warning, the thrust of two fingers began the body cavity search.

A communal shower removed the delousing substance from my skin.   I stood there naked, terrified. What is happening to me, only three months after high school graduation.

At the distribution desk, prison clothes were piled in my arms. "Put these on" he said.

The opposite door opened.  The long passageway through Cellblock E was lined with locked cells. Faces pressed against the bars, leering at the newest entry from New Cock Court.  My ears were ringing with the raw, obscene remarks and gestures, as I was led to a cell down near the end.

Two walls had bunks, three high. There was a combination sink/toilet with no seat.  The four men inside said nothing.  One motioned toward the empty top bunk.  I climbed the ladder, and laid there, afraid to move, expecting.  They left me alone.

After a while, a buzzer sounded.  "Chow!"  The man who pointed me to my bunk, said "Stay by me. You'll be okay."  There was a kindness in his voice.  All the cell doors opened at once.  I stayed next to him and kept quiet, hoping to remain unnoticed.

After chow, we returned.  The doors would stay open for two hours of free time.  Quickly, I  retreated to my upper bunk.  My newfound protector sat on the lower and read his book.  I would be safe.  At least for now.  Soon, it would be "lights out."   Oh God, what then.

He closed his book, stood and brushed his teeth at the sink/toilet, and said "How's it goin' up there?" Suddenly, lights out. Within seconds he was in the bunk with me.  I pleaded, "No, please, no."  "It's either gonna be me, or all four of us."

Five days and nights of hell.  Then, suddenly, a guard appeared and took me out.  The judge had made a mistake.  I was too young to be here.  Guys my age were supposed to go to Apalachee.  They transferred me that day.

I arrived at Apalachee in the late afternoon. A bunk in "B Dorm" was assigned, and a guard escorted me to the chow hall.  It was civilized.  Two hundred young men, already eating, even laughing.

At free-time, after dinner, Billy.  He must have noticed when they brought me in.  Walking down the sidewalk toward me, as I've said before, he nearly took my breath away.  With that  broad smile, he said "Hi, I'm Billy."  Somehow, with just those few words, he was able to take the hurt away.

mejack  / Paul

[paintedshoes]

Basqueboy, may I add my strong support for the way in which you opened your heart to your friend.  It took a great deal of courage to "lay it on the line" and tell the truth of your feelings.  I do not know if you will ever get a response, let alone the response that you want, but I do know that you are a better person for making the overture.  You have laid bare your soul, and invited him in.  Bless you for finding the strength to do that. 

Whatever the outcome of this story, bless you for sharing it with us, that we may know YOU better and appreciate the qualities that make you a true member of our family.

Your sister,
Jackie

[paintedshoes]

Paul,
I just read more of the continuing saga of you and Billy.  Please, please, write a book about this time.  You have such a gift for putting people in the midst of your life.  Share it with the rest of the world.

[BillN]

Paul,
I just read more of the continuing saga of you and Billy.  Please, please, write a book about this time.  You have such a gift for putting people in the midst of your life.  Share it with the rest of the world.

Paul, getting this all out has to be good for you. It is hard for me to really comprehend what you went through, but you have done such a poignant job of telling us. I agree about a book, it should be shared.

[sagha/Mo]

Nick,
 I left out saying bravo.

Brasen Kael.  Wow. Now that is a name for an Annie Proulx story. Pronounced Brazen Kale, it is perhaps the most wonderful name I've ever heard. Too bad Tony, from West Side Story, had not heard Brazen Kael before he heard Maria. Kale is exactly a brazen vegetable full of health and a richness of goodies that is so good for us it deserves the honor you have awknowledged and bestowed. You and your wife's generousity is inspiring and spirited and auspicious that this baby is so extra special.  sagha

[MarkC]

Thankyou Paul!
Poignant story.
Thanks for sharing.

Will continue checking this board for any more of your posts.

MarkC

PAUL'S STORY SO FAR IN ORDER OF POSTS:

**********************************1ST POST************************************

I haven't been able to talk to anybody about Billy for fifty years. Finally, a group of people who I know will understand. After three times at BBM, I think I have the courage to tell some of  it. 

In 1954 I was seventeen and the youngest guy in Florida State Prison. The judge hadn't notice my age till it was too late. Quickly I was moved to Apalachee, the place for youthful, first-time offenders. My first day there, at free-time after dinner, there he was, coming down the sidewalk toward me. He nearly took my breath away. Billy was twenty, good looking, all slender and muscular, with curly hair and blue-green eyes.

He must have noticed my reaction because he came right to me and introduced himself. He knew how afraid I was that first day. Though somewhat inexperienced, I had always been attracted to guys.  It wasn't that way with Billy. Nothing in his experience had prepared him for someone like me. Yet, there was this bond. We both realized it that very moment, and for the next two years, we were inseparable.

Everything was monitored by the guards. There was free-time each day for a couple of hours after dinner. Billy and I always went down to the field to lay in the grass and talk. We shared our innermost feelings, and our dreams. The occasional touch of our fingers together, or looking into one another's eyes. That's all we could have. And we would never let a day go by without saying " I love you." Only once, on a special afternoon, a bunch of guys were on the porch with no guard in sight.  In the mid-1950s, even is prison, nobody had "a boyfriend" except Billy.  The guys started chanting, "Kiss him, Billy, kiss him". So somewhat cocky, and a little bit showoff, well, we had our kiss. Our only kiss, ever.

Billy had another year and a half to go when I was released. Parting day was unbearable. And it was against the rules for us to correspond. I went to New York to start life over.  Two years went by and I had no idea where he was.  But I knew his home was in Griffin, GA so I went there, located his mother, and found where he was staying.  Of course I was unexpected, and Billy was confused. He had a new girlfriend, and they were getting married. The three of us had lunch together, and when we said goodbye we tried to hide the tears.

A year later, I called again.  Ruth answered.  Billy was back in prison, this time for five years in Georgia. She was going across the state the following week to visit him and asked if I wanted to go along.  I did.

My sweet Billy sat across the table from his wife, and me.  What must have been swirling through his mind? He talked to Ruth, and all the while, under the table, entwined his feet with mine. We never saw each other again.

It was to be twenty years before I could get through a day without thinking of Billy. Eventually I met a sweet girl, we married, had four wonderful boys, now grown, and thoughts of Billy slowly subsided. After thirty years and a wonderful family, it was all just something in the past.  Until Brokeback Mountain.

Suddenly, after fifty years, all those emotions came flooding back into my mind. If only I could see him one more time.  If I could only know where he is and what his life is like.  I began searching. But it's been a dead end. My mind is still in turmoil.  And yes, reality has begun to set in.  I still think of Billy as a young man.  He's 72 now, if he's alive at all. He probably doesn't even remember me.  Of course he does. I'm the one who told him a thousand times that I'd always love him. And I do.

Thank you Heath and Jake and Ang. Thanks Ennis and Jack.  But I feel so alone now. . .

Paul 

*************************************2ND POST******************************

...The guys started chanting, "Kiss him, Billy, kiss him". So somewhat cocky, and a little bit showoff, well, we had our kiss. Our only kiss, ever...
Paul, that is amazing. Thank you so much for sharing your story with us.

So how did the other guys respond to the two of you kissing? Tell us all about the kiss!

And yes, of course he remembers you.

Hi WDJ,
Okay, about "the kiss".  We were all hanging out on the steps of one of the two dorms. Maybe 16 or 18 guys around.  Everybody knew about Billy and me. All the guys were straight as far as I know. They probably assumed Billy was too, and that I was the queer one. Maybe they were right. Anyway, it's 1956 remember.  No television.  No magazines allowed. The guys were living vicariously through Billy at that moment, I think. 

They urged him on. We were seated on the steps. As they began chanting, Billy slowly stood and pulled me up beside him. He whispered "do you wanna do this?"  Before I could answer, or even think, he wrapped his arms around me. I never knew until then how much he really wanted to hold me. Then he kissed me.  A full, open mouth kiss. It seemed unending. I know exactly how Jack felt during that reunion kiss.

I heard them . . . "Holy Shit, do you believe that?"  "Damn!"  "I ain't never seen nothin' like that before!" We sat back down. I couldn't let go of Billy's arm. Suddenly, somebody said "Ya'll shut up. Guard's coming." And it was over.

Next day I asked Billy about the kiss. He joked and said "what kiss?" Then he got real serious and said "I'm glad it happened. You okay?  You still love me?"  Like I said, turns out it was our only kiss, ever. And yes, Billy, I still love you.

Thanks for asking, WDJ.

Paul

*************************************3RD POST ********************************




...I heard them . . . "Holy Shit, do you believe that?"  "Damn!"  "I ain't never seen nothin' like that before!" We sat back down. I couldn't let go of Billy's arm. Suddenly, somebody said "Y'all shut up. Guard's coming." And it was over.

Next day I asked Billy about the kiss. He joked and said "what kiss?" Then he got real serious and said "I'm glad it happened. You okay?  You still love me?"  Like I said, turns out it was our only kiss, ever. And yes, Billy, I still love you.

Thanks for asking, WDJ.

Paul
Wow. So the other guys had a basically positive reaction? Did they ever give you or Billy a hard time about it later on? Did anybody say hey, good for you? Or did nobody say anything? It's kinda heart-warming that the guys just say "shut up - guard's coming."

Before the kiss, they were just looking for some entertainment.  It was almost like a double-dare. Afterward, the reaction was one of awe, I guess.  We took  a risk, and they knew it.  Within a few days, the guards got wind of it, and started asking questions. Of course, nobody had seen anything!  Yeh, one guy asked me "when's it gonna be my turn?"  But it was just light-hearted humor.  Later, a guy called me "gal-boy" but someone quickly corrected him. "His name's Paul."

*************************************4TH POST****************************


That's wonderful to hear. I'd have probably been asking when it would be my turn too! I mean we're talking young men in prison in Florida in the 1950s - and they had the decency to respect you.

WDJ, I want to thank you for encouraging me to talk about these things. I've never spoken any of this to anyone before.  After my release I went to New York alone to start over.  Didn't want anyone to know about the prison thing, so I just said I'd been away at college.  All my wife and kids know of those years is college.  Now, for the first time in fifty years, you've helped me reveal the truth. Thanks.

As for the "decency to respect you", yes there was respect. But it wasn't for being gay, or for doing a gay kiss. The respect was, first of all, because we never hid it, but admitted our relationship to all. And second, there was respect because we dared to do what was unthinkable in the face of harsh punishment if we had been caught.

Not long afterward, I was at work in the prison office, and got word that Billy had got in a fight over at the brickyard where he worked.  He never would tell me what the fight was about.  Anyway, he was sent to the hole.  That's solitary confinement. Concrete floor, one blanket, minimal food. I was filled with anxiety for Billy's sake.

Next day a guard got smart with me and said "Whatcha gonna do now that your boyfriend's in the hole!?"  Without thinking, I replied "fuck you!"  He grabbed me and said "I guess you wanna go down there with him, huh?" It was about 10 o'clock at night.  He unlocked the cellar door and marched me past Billy's cell, down to the end of the hall and clanked the door shut.  Billy yelled "what the hell did you do?"  The guard said, "he wanted to be with his boyfriend."  That's the only time Billy was ever angry with me. Angry that I had put myself in such a situation.

A day later they came and let Billy out. He had been in there 3 days.  They kept me the maximum 29 days.  The guards were sure that I was the queer, and Billy was just being taken in. So they let him out to make my punishment worse.  When I came out of the hole, I was so pale and thin.  That was the only time I ever saw Billy cry.  That evening, the other  guys were watching to see what we'd do. We walked down the sidewalk together, right past two of the guards, into the field and laid on the grass again, and talked, and loved each other.  Yeh, we had respect.

CONTINUED ON NEXT MARKC POST

[MarkC]

**************************************5TH POST********************

... That evening, the other  guys were watching to see what we'd do. We walked down the sidewalk together, right past two of the guards, into the field and laid on the grass again, and talked, and loved each other.  Yeh, we had respect.
Paul you need to write all this up as memoirs - it's really amazing.

What about your wife and children now? How is your family life?

I'm about to get backed into a corner where I'm not real comfortable.  The straightforward answer is that we have a fine family life.  Married over 33 years, four great sons, two of whom are married, one is dating, and the youngest pursuing his career.  Loving father/son relationships and a happy marriage in every way.

When you do the math, those 20 years it took before I could get through a day without thinking about Billy, those years overlap the marriage by 3 or 4 years.  But a wife, a new house, kids starting to come along . . . those things begin to occupy your mind.  Eventually, I seldom thought of Billy anymore.  He faded into an old memory, never really forgotten, but never brought to the surface either.  Until Brokeback Mountain.

Those old memories suddenly came flooding back. I have to deal with this thing. One thing is sure, though. No matter how much I want to find Billy again, no matter what my feelings may be, I won't let it affect the family.  The family is real, Billy is only a memory.  I won't give up a life for a dream.

Added to the equation is the fact that my wife and I are well-known to thousands on the East Coast where I'm on stage regularly (I dare say no more than that).  So many more would be affected, and I will not ruin lives. 

What I'm afraid of is this: is it going to take 20 years again? I may be wrong, but I somehow believe if I could just know a few things: is he alive? is he okay? is he happy?  If I could just know that, hopefully I could put this all aside again, and go on with my life. But I won't kid you. You know as well as I do that there's a part of me that wants Billy.

Brokeback Mountain has nearly done me in!

« Last Edit: Today at 02:32:59 PM by mejack »   
   
************************************6TH POST*********************************   

Quote from: sagha on February 21, 2006, 02:54:44 PM

Paul:
I agree completely with wdj, you definitely should begin to tell all the stories that you can dreg up of your imprisonment and visits to Billy, yr life before and after last seeing him. Your story is perhaps the most exceptionally beautiful one here among some quite heart-rending & amazing stories, . .
                                  --sagha

Sagha, and everyone . . .

All of you have been so supportive.  Thank you all.  You've urged me to write more of Billy.  I have found that putting it into words has been a real catharsis for me.  I'm nearing the place of acceptance and it's beginning to feel good.

I went up on Brokeback again (fourth) last night. Each time I'm still shaken to my very soul.  One scene in particular brought back more sweet memories. Jack with his lasso. How playfully he roped Ennis.

I loved Saturdays.  Work was only until noon, and the rest of the day was free-time. Billy lived up the hill in "A Dorm" and the sidewalk led down to me in "B Dorm", and on past there to the ball field.  After lunch, a shower and change of clothes, we'd have the whole glorious afternoon.

Larry knew the drill.  Sitting on the steps of B Dorm, he said "Here comes Billy."  I said "So?" Billy came walking by, expecting, as always, that I'd walk out to join him.  But I just sat there.  He never looked my way. He just walked past.  After about 50 feet, he suddenly stopped, turned on his heel, and went all the way back up the hill. 

He stood up there by the post for quite a while, then started down again. As he passed the steps of B Dorm this time, he looked straight at me as he walked. I joined him without a word.  While we walked, under his breath he muttered "Asshole!"  I laughed.

One day at our place on the grass, Billy was on his back, watching the clouds, one arm behind his head, the other stretched outward.  I moved over some and laid my head on his arm.  He said "you're gonna get us in big trouble."  But he didn't move his arm.  Little intimacies.  Saturdays.  I loved Saturdays.

I asked Billy once, "Ever think about sex?"  "Umm", he answered. "How 'bout you?"   "When I think about it" I said, "I think about you."  He was quiet for a long time as he contemplated.  He had so little experience to draw from.  I can't even imagine what odd pseudo-hetro image he must have conjured up in his mind.  He just said wistfully, "Hell, that ain't gonna work!"

Being in love isn't about sex.  Good thing!   Like Ennis said, "never had the opportunity to be a sinner."  But we had intimacy.  And lots of time to love.

Paul

************************************7TH POST***************************************

Quote from: MarkC on February 25, 2006, 04:39:39 PM
MeJack (or Paul)
. . . I come periodically to see if you have posted another touching beautiful story from your life.
Hoping to be moved again by you.

Thanks,
MarkC

Since my previous posts, many have encouraged me to write more.  I need to write it, and I appreciate your undertanding.  The memories bombard my mind, all disjointed and out of sequence.

Shackled to the seat, my ankle hurts from the rubbing of the leg irons. Five hours in the prison bus, seven or eight men, feet linked together by a chain, and hands cuffed. The barred bus windows covered with wire mesh, were cracked opened a little, while the Florida late-summer sun beat down unmercifully.

I'd heard about Raiford.  That hell-hole with its chain gangs, and the expected abuse.  It was the deep South of 1954.  I was seventeen.  I was alone, and so afraid!

The first iron gate slammed shut behind us, as we drove through.  A few yards further and the second gate did the same.  The bus door opened.  A guard removed the chains and herded us through a doorway, down a long corridor, to a large open place.

"Welcome to New Cock Court," he said.  Years of prison slang had given name to the holding area for new arrivals.  "Oh God, why do they call it that," I thought?

"Take off your clothes. Everything."  Trembling with fear, stripped bare, I stood there, waiting.  "Open your mouth." "Raise your arms."  "Bend over, spread your cheeks."  Not knowing what to expect next, and without warning, the thrust of two fingers began the body cavity search.

A communal shower removed the delousing substance from my skin.   I stood there naked, terrified. What is happening to me, only three months after high school graduation.

At the distribution desk, prison clothes were piled in my arms. "Put these on" he said.

The opposite door opened.  The long passageway through Cellblock E was lined with locked cells. Faces pressed against the bars, leering at the newest entry from New Cock Court.  My ears were ringing with the raw, obscene remarks and gestures, as I was led to a cell down near the end.

Two walls had bunks, three high. There was a combination sink/toilet with no seat.  The four men inside said nothing.  One motioned toward the empty top bunk.  I climbed the ladder, and laid there, afraid to move, expecting.  They left me alone.

After a while, a buzzer sounded.  "Chow!"  The man who pointed me to my bunk, said "Stay by me. You'll be okay."  There was a kindness in his voice.  All the cell doors opened at once.  I stayed next to him and kept quiet, hoping to remain unnoticed.

After chow, we returned.  The doors would stay open for two hours of free time.  Quickly, I  retreated to my upper bunk.  My newfound protector sat on the lower and read his book.  I would be safe.  At least for now.  Soon, it would be "lights out."   Oh God, what then.

He closed his book, stood and brushed his teeth at the sink/toilet, and said "How's it goin' up there?" Suddenly, lights out. Within seconds he was in the bunk with me.  I pleaded, "No, please, no."  "It's either gonna be me, or all four of us."

Five days and nights of hell.  Then, suddenly, a guard appeared and took me out.  The judge had made a mistake.  I was too young to be here.  Guys my age were supposed to go to Apalachee.  They transferred me that day.

I arrived at Apalachee in the late afternoon. A bunk in "B Dorm" was assigned, and a guard escorted me to the chow hall.  It was civilized.  Two hundred young men, already eating, even laughing.

At free-time, after dinner, Billy.  He must have noticed when they brought me in.  Walking down the sidewalk toward me, as I've said before, he nearly took my breath away.  With that  broad smile, he said "Hi, I'm Billy."  Somehow, with just those few words, he was able to take the hurt away.

mejack  / Paul

[paintedshoes]

Thank you, MarcC.

See Paul, I told you.  Do a book, darn you!

[Mejack]

Thank you, MarcC.

See Paul, I told you.  Do a book, darn you!

I hear you.
Writing about Billy is easy.  Sweet memories.
Writing about me, now that's a different thing altogether.
Been in the closet so many years, I don't even know where the doorknob is anymore.
Still searching for Billy.  Hoping.
Paul

[Philo]

While the performances are as masterful as the direction I have been utterly awestruck by the story and dialogue in itself. To me thats where it all begins. So firstly, its Proulx, Ossana and McMurtry that I am completely overwhelmed by. They should receive Pulizters for this one.

Does anyone out there know how nominations for the Nobel Prize for Literature get started?  Because that's what I'm thinking they deserve.  Actually, for the awakening of hearts this story has engendered, the Nobel Peace Prize would not be inappropriate.

[wyomen]

I just read on MSN that "Brokeback" is the biggest word in Hollywood this year! Hope it translates to the Oscars!
http://today.reuters.com/news/newsarticle.aspx?type=oddlyEnoughNews&storyid=2006-02-28T153254Z_01_N27387539_RTRUKOC_0_US-OSCARS-WORDS.xml

[rick53]

WOW, I go and have a baby and there is like 10 pages to catch up on!!   

YES, you heard right!  Not 45 minutes after my post on Friday that I had snuck out to see the movie again, my wife's water broke and 2 hours later, Barsen Kael entered the world. He had some trouble so I have been in the hospital all weekend long. It really is a pretty amazing story - I will post it a little later as I really feel like you guys are family!

Welcome to all the new people!!

And you know the weird thing about this baby - he has features of mine!  I was freaked out.

Anyway, just wanted to pop my head in and say hello!!

Nick

PS - I so wanted to call Jack and Ennis about my baby - but I didn't have their phone numbers!   

Nick--Congratulations on your new son!!  I'm so happy for you and your wife. 

Rick

[downloaded1]

CONGRADS ON THE BABY!!