Travels

(Pulled from the pages of my written journal)

I just got off a flight from San Francisco to Chicago, and am now sitting at the terminal to catch my flight to Oz. On my 4 hour flight here, I sat beside a woman about my size, but the age of my mother. I stayed silent much of the flight between sleeping and reading my book Middlesex. About 3 hours in and with the refreshment cart approaching, I started up a conversation we’d briefly had earlier, “So, where are you headed in Michigan?”

Believe it or not, Grand Rapids popped into my head first, followed by Detroit, but she said Grand Rapids. We continued the conversation as she said she’d been visiting SF the past week at a literary conference and that she taught English at the University in Michigan. I asked her if she read the book I was reading. She said yes and asked me how I liked it. I told her I found it fairly entertaining so far and that a coworker had read it before me. I’m not sure how we moved to the subject, but I told her I was an engineer. That was the beginning of a very unique conversation. She asked why I got into that field since there weren’t many women....for the men, or the job? (OK, yes, I’m in girl mode.) I said I liked math as a kid and it kinda lead me down my current career. She asked if I still liked doing math and I said that I didn’t really use my degree anymore, and was more of a babysitter now...as I gave her a big grin. No, I still use some of my degree, just not too much of it. Again, we drifted along in conversation until she asked, “How long have you known what you are doing?”

Now, somewhere in the drifting of our conversation, she mentioned that she just loved identity stuff. So, most people might ask “doing?” but I knew what she meant. I don’t go around haplessly thinking that I’m passing under the scrutiny of the human eye, but I do OK. Perhaps it was our conversation and my inability to perfect a female voice, but she knew.

I answered, “All my life,” just as I told Amanda in my dance class. I’d never known any different. She wasn’t phased though. Our conversation diverged as we talked about identity and families, religion and politics, and the ever present Thanksgiving break. As we chatted about Thanksgiving and spending time with the family, I told her I was nervous as hell. I asked her how I looked, and she said I looked quite calm. Hmmmm....I guess the facade from work is pretty good.

Her family was coming over for dinner tomorrow, and I’m visiting mine in the Midwest. The tone changed as she told me that she thought her husband was gay, and that she’d had these thoughts the past 10 years. She’d given him the opportunity lately to come clean and to tell her, but he hadn’t. She thought he was having a relationship with another man who had entered into their lives. They had three sons, all of which she thought would enter into the family business. She thought her husband was afraid to tell her for some reason. I said it could probably be for the kids or the job....or the family. I said that I was asked as a kid if I was a boy or a girl, and after that, I started to create a male shell. Not until I had accepted who I was was I able to openly talk about all of it. If someone would have asked me if I was a transsexual before I moved to SF, I probably would have flatly denied everything simply because I hadn’t even accepted myself yet. She started to cry as she told me more of her concerns. She loved the man. I could tell. You don’t see that true love at this stage of life very often, but here it was sitting next to me 7 miles over the Midwest. She was afraid to lose him, but in contrast, she also wanted him to be true to himself. Torn. What can you do in that situation? She asked me anyway...”What would you do?” I didn’t have an answer for her. I dug out a tissue for her to wipe her eyes. She said all she wanted was the truth.

Anyway, we arrived here just a while back. She’s headed for another flight right now, but she did tell me that she has a book that will be out in about 9 months. “It deals with identity,” she said as she smiled. Cool. I’ll have to read it.

...written later....

My ride to KC wasn’t as exciting as the one to Chicago as I sat next to some dude who played air guitar. He needed a little practice still.