Catching Up
Sorry I’ve been remiss in writing in this blog but I’ve been busy on the road touring for the paperback of Sissy. First of all, I want to thank all of you out there who keep discovering the book - especially now that it’s out in paperback - and writing me here on the blog to let me know how it has touched you. If I haven’t written back to all of you, please know how much your messages mean to me. I am humbled and touched and thrilled each time you take the time to write to me here. It means the world to me. More than you can know.
Let’s see .. where to start …
A few weeks ago I began the tour by going down to Ft. Lauderdale to participate in the Literary Feast, a weekend event that is a fundraising drive for the Broward County Library. First, however, I had agreed to interview Robert De Niro for an upcoming story in Travel+Leisure about his new hotel in Tribeca called The Greenwich. Our schedules were so crowded we each could only meet for an hour or so on the day I was headed to the airport to fly down to Ft. Lauderdale. So I showed up at the hotel - which was still in that last throes of construction and being decorated - with my suitcases in tow as if I were checking into the place. De Niro could not have been nicer or more open. I’d always wanted to interview him so wasn’t going to turn the assignment down and was determined to make it work - even if it meant writing the story in airports and hotel rooms on my paperback book tour. I gave him a copy of the paperback and he said, “I can’t promise you I’ll read it, but I’ll give it to Grace, my wife. She’s from Mississippi you know.” I didn’t know. “All my in-laws are from around Jackson. I think she’s mentioned this book to me already. This is really sweet of of you.” De Niro himself was rather sweet. Nothing like his screen image of the overly macho guy. His father was a famous abstract expressionist painter - Robert De Niro, Sr. - who met his mother, Virginia Admiral, who was also a painter - while they were studying with Hans Hoffman in Provincetown in the early 1940s. De Niro was their only child. In fact, Robert De Niro, Sr., divorced Admiral soon after their son was born and became quite open about his bisexuality, becoming the lover of the poet and gay rights pioneer, Robert Duncan. De Niro, as a boy, grew up hanging out in his father’s loft in Greenwich Village surrounded by his father’s friends Anais Nin and Henry Miller and Jackson Pollock and Tennesee Williams. Artitsry is a part of De Niro’s DNA. And the hotel is beautiful
I had a great time once I got to Ft. Lauderdale. I was one of about 20 writers invited to particpate in the weekend. In fact, I was late arriving because of my De Niro interview so missed the welcoming cocktail party at the penthouse of some rich local entrepreneur. But I ran into Christopher Rice who was starting out the tour for his new book, Blind Fall, at the front door of our hotel on his way out for the evening with friends. I had just read a rave review in the New York Times on the flight down of his mother’s new book about Jesus and was the first to tell him the good news. Made me feel good - putting a smile on his face. He obviously loves his mom a lot. Of course, Chris is a bit of a diva - a loveable one, but a diva nonetheless, I guess being the son of Anne Rice, divadom, like artistry, is a part of his own DNA - and he didn’t like the hotel and yacht club where the festival had put us so he checked out the next day to check into the St. Regis Hotel right next to Ft. Lauderdale’s gay beach. If you want to see how sexy Chris is looking these days, check out his interview on Towleroadtv.com.
The next morning - Friday - I got up early and met with a class of honor students at a local high school. I gave out a few awards for a short story writing contest and talked to the class and read from my book. Instead of opening up the floor for questions, I decided to ask them all questions. When we began to discuss how difficult it is to be different as a teenager, one young boy - beautiful, soft spoken, soft in many ways - raised his hand and began to confide how he poured his own difference into his artwork. Two boys in the back of the class began to laugh at him. As their laughter reached him, I saw the bit of pain the sound engendered flicker in his eyes. I did not look away from him but kept him talking about himself, commented on his bravery, until the laughter quieted. But does such laughter ever really quiet. In the laughter of those boys in the back of that class I heard the echo of the laughter that I’d heard so often behind my own back when I was a teenager trying to celebrate my own difference in my own brand of art. Sometimes artistry is not to be found in our DNA but in our defiance.
That night there was a big cocktail party at the Broward County Library and we writers were placed in a circle facing outward at our tables in order to sign the books that the cocktail partygoers bought. We then were assigned to one rich person each in order to be a guest at their homes at the dinners that their guests had paid to attend - hence, the name Literary Feast. We were asked to sit at one table of guests during the first course. A second table during the main course. And a third table during desert. I then did a reading from Mississippi Sissy in my host’s media room. It was an exhausting but fun evening. Felt a bit like a performing monkey but that’s what book tours are about sometimes.
The next day we were asked to on panels at a local college as part of the literary festival. I sat on a memoir one with the wondeful Lucinda Franks, who has written a remarkable memoir about discovering family secrets, My Father’s Secret War, and Terri Cheney, a lovely woman who has written about her bipolar condition in Manic. We were a good threesome. Our stories and personalities blended well.
After the panel I flew back to New York to prepare for the next week of travel down south for another leg of the tour. I signed books at the University of Southern Mississippi and the next day at the Georgia Tech Barnes and Noble. After those two events I headed to Charleston - my first visit to that amazingly beautiful city. I kept wondering if I could live there. Though I certainly responded to its architecture, friends of mine who know it better than I do told me that the population tends to be a bit more stuffy than I could endure. But there was nothing stuffy about my reading on Pawleys Island, about 90 minutes outside of Charleston.
Pawleys is a barrier island and one of the most scenic places I’ve ever been. I spoke and read at a luncheon series called Moveable Feast which was sponsored by the wonderfully laconic Tom Warner, of Litchfield Books, and the Sea View Inn. The inn hasn’t changed a bit since it opened in the 1937. There are no telephones and televisions in the rooms. And there is a vast back portch overlooking the ocean, a porch filled with comfortable rockers. The lunch was sold out and we sold out my books there as well. The audience was almost completely women of a certain age who crowded into the quaint dining hall of the inn. They laughed uproariously at all the right parts. Teared up. And were completely silent and moved by the end. The applause was sustained and heartfelt. At the end of the lunch - one of my favorite appearances I’ve had on either the hardback or paperback tour - one of the women came up to hug my neck and said, “Honey, I was afraid to come to this one because I thought it was going to be too gay. But you’re just about the best writer we’ve had here. Cokie Roberts is coming to speak to us in a couple of weeks and she’s going to have to be damn good to top you.” And then she tried to fix me up with a gay nephew of hers who lives in New Jersey.
I’m going back to the Sea View Inn at some point to not watch television and not talk on the phone. And hug me some more necks.
Next up: The Tennessee Williams Literary Festival in New Orleans ….
April 9th, 2008 at 8:22 pm
because of u
people feel
& feel it’s alright to
April 10th, 2008 at 12:22 pm
I just finished your book and wanted to tell you how much it meant to me that you took the time and the courage to write it. It made me feel less alone in my experiences. Also, as a transplanted southerner, its nice to know that the south is a bit more open now. Maybe the south has missed you. Thanks again for writing your memoir and I look forward to your next book.
April 10th, 2008 at 9:25 pm
I was born and raised in the Mississippi Delta of SE Arkansas just 3 short years behind you. I too moved away from the area almost 30 years ago but I never looked back….not until I read your book. Your words MADE me remember the dusty scenery, the smells of the delicious fried food, the old movie posters, the history and of course, the southern accent I try so hard to hide. I am a female and have been happily married to a wonderful man for over 20 years. Your book is not just for gays….it’s also for folks like me to remember where they came from….it made me remember….and I thank you.
April 11th, 2008 at 10:26 am
I just finished your book, and had to tell you that it is truly amazing. Reading your recollections of growing up in Mississippi reminded me of my own time growing up there. Small world that it is, I have family in Forrest and spent many a weekend visiting family there as a child. Thank you for sharing your stories and remembrances - i wish you all the best!
April 11th, 2008 at 1:34 pm
we love you, kevin.
April 12th, 2008 at 2:42 am
c’mere honey i just gotta hug you on the neck,
and all her bracelets clinking together as you bend down.
oooooo gotta love it!
April 12th, 2008 at 8:28 am
Hi Kevin: Nice to hear about your adventures again. And I look forward to reading about the Tenn. Williams Literary Festival in New Orleans.
Since there has been so much talk of Miss. on here I thought I might tell you that I read recently a comment by someone that Mississippi is America’s Sicily. Rachel and I went to Sicily last June and before I had read that comment above I kept looking out at the beautiful agricultural landscape of Sicily and seeing only farms and crops and no people. When we got home several people asked me what Sicily was like and I replied it reminded me of Miss. All open country and farms and fields and very few or no people in sight. Also the place is “different”. The people and place are often looked down on. The lawlessness of the two places is somewhat similar also. I know Miss. has changed somewhat but in the old days it was surely run by the Miss. Mafia. By that I mean the KKK and the white citizens council. There was a well known book by an Ole Miss professor who called Miss. THE CLOSED SOCIETY. That was around 1963. James Silver I think his name was. I mentioned this book to my aunt and she said, “What’s wrong with that?” Ah so. Well the closed society is no longer closed in Miss. but it stills reminds me of beautiful Sicily. The food is great in both places also. Miss. is America’s Sicily. That is something to think about.
April 13th, 2008 at 8:58 pm
Kevin: I just had dinner with our mutual friend Rex Reed and he told me about lunch at Houmas House and the interesting bit of revisionist history shared over it.
I’d love to catch up again,
Alan
April 14th, 2008 at 11:00 pm
Hi Kevin-my mother (Esther Kennedy) grew up in Forest and moved away to the neighbor state of Louisiana only after she married my father who was from the even smaller village of Polkville, MS. She found out about your book from my grandmother. My uncle, Jeff Kennedy, said he knew of you, your brother, and sister growing up. I want to tell you that I spent many of my formative years in Forest and not one year has passed that I haven’t gone back to visit. I was there in December-actually I bought some handmade soap from one of the downtown stores that displays local flare. I’ll go back again in May to see relatives. I live in New Haven, CT now with my partner. I’m still not “out” to anyone but my immediate family. My grandmother who still lives on Ann Street in Forest literally two steps away from Lackey Memorial-does not know. I just started reading your book and it resonates so true with me, only 10 pages into it, I was a ball of emotion.
I grew up in the 80’s but, from your descriptions, it seems not much was different from the time when you grew up. I am a lesbian. Now, I am also a social worker,activist, and philanthropist. Spending many years in Forest and Sulphur, LA (my hometown), I didn’t know how I would find it in me to survive. The racism, the homophobia, the sexism punctuated by the religious fundamentals that seemed to penetrate into the fiber of the culture did everything it could to keep me from emerging as a whole human being. But somehow I sought out the few supportive people there were around and focused on the aspects of the culture that were positive just as you did. I don’t think my career path would be what it is now if it weren’t for my upbringing/experiences there. I thank you for writing about your experiences in such an eloquent novel. For so long I have looked to literature to reflect an experience similar to my own back to me and it hasn’t been there. Now it is. Thank you with all my heart and best to you and your family.
April 15th, 2008 at 2:28 pm
Thank you for writing one of the funniest, most charming, tear jerking, emotional, warm, etc, etc, etc, book I have read in a while. You made me laugh, cry, and think a lot about what made me who I am today. I took the book cover off of the book when reading it on the metro, originally, and then realized halfway through that I was giving in to the people who would judge me for being who I am. I put the cover back on.
April 16th, 2008 at 6:14 pm
I sent you an email and hope that you might receive it. Concerning your participation in a French documentary about LA. I value your articulate and unique insights.
April 19th, 2008 at 6:02 pm
I recently visited dear friends in the Myrtle Beach area. They are part of a book club who participated in an author’s luncheon where you spoke. They raved about you - I have since purchased your book, and plan to be the facilitator for it later this summer. I would so very much like to know how we could get you to visit our book club of approx. 20 people. I understand you live in NYC. We live in the Poughkeepsie area - approx. 75 miles north of NYC. I know you’re swamped…but would so very much LOVE to surprise these women with an “author’s visit.” Would you be so kind as to write back and let me know if you’d do that, and what the protocol would be to have the pleasure of your company at one of our book club meetings? (My husband’s a chef - we’d have wonderful food!
) Hope to hear from you soon. Suzie P.
April 19th, 2008 at 10:36 pm
We recently met at the Sea View Inn and I know I will NEVER forget you….
April 19th, 2008 at 10:47 pm
We recently met at the Sea View Inn and I know I will never forget you….. I hugged you and confessed you made me cry. As a sister of a beautiful, loving and caring brother who passed sometime ago from AIDS, I felt your losses as I read your book. You are a truly gifted and caring person and I wish you continued success. Looking forward to seeing you at the Sea View again!!!!
April 20th, 2008 at 9:08 pm
Dear Kevin,
Recently I sufferred the death of my hard drive; decided not to fix it but to replace it. That took time, especially because I had to learn Vista, which is quite different from XP.
Because of this, you have not been in my favorites cache, and I finally got around to finding and reinstituting your blog site. Good to be back!
It’s a relief that you are still seeing the comedy and absurdity and sharing your world view with displaced persons like me. I especially enjoyed the report from your Pawley’s Island experience. So real! Seems to me I once read that novelist Pat Conroy lived there, but I may be remembering wrong. I do that quite a bit these days.
April 24th, 2008 at 12:06 am
The Sea View Inn sounds so wonderful!
My family used to drive down to Destin and spend a week
at the White Caps Motel. It was a one-level cinder block place, painted a faded aqua. Nightime you could sit on the sand, look down the beach east then west, and see not a single light.
Grateful I had the chance to experience pre-DESTIN! Destin.
May 3rd, 2008 at 12:16 pm
Kevin: I was one of the women of a certain age at SeaViewInn. We spoke for a few minutes on the porch and I introduced you to my friends. The whole afternoon was magic. I just gave the book to my son Dan. Thanks again for sharing so much of yourself….
May 4th, 2008 at 4:41 pm
What a great blog entry! I recently visited Charleston for the first time, too, and had the same thoughts about its character and whether or not I could live there. Any more to tell on the ‘nephew’? hehe
May 5th, 2008 at 10:11 am
I went to school in Alabama at a time when Southern Airlines flew in via Tupelo and Tuscaloosa, and cotton fields came right up to the tarmac, so your book took me back to a warm and surprisingly protected time in my life.
Thank you for having the courage to share your life with the rest of us, Kevin, you are a splendid human being and I only wish I’d had the chance to meet you along the way. I missed your visit to San Francisco.
You brought back a nostalgia for much of what is good about the south which often gets buried by what we all know is bad. Your story of Matty broke my heart. Dialog on race DOES exist if we just know where to recognize it when we find it.
Southern culture is portrayed in your book for what it is, a fine unpolished gem of great depth and brilliance, though I finally chose not to live there because, like you, I was different.
May 8th, 2008 at 11:34 am
Mr. Sessums,
I’ve enjoyed your writing for a long time, but your memoir had a unique effect on me: I dreamed last week that I was walking to a restaurant and happened to pass a big, old fashioned auto repair shop. Along the side of the building, in big, painted letters, it said “Sissy’s Auto Repair.” I thought to myself, “Shit, I wish I had my camera! I’ve got to come back here tomorrow and take a picture of that to send to Kevin Sessums. He’ll love that this exists in the south.” It really was a great-looking sign. I was disappointed, maybe even a little pouty, when I woke up.
Cheers and thanks.
May 23rd, 2008 at 1:47 pm
I used to always see you around, by yourself, riding your bike, on fire island walking by yourself, in Ptown by yourself, always alone. I always thought you were okay, an okay writer even, I used to be friends with Charles Gandee who said the meanest thing about you once to me, he said, (in reference to you and your career): “It just goes to show you how far one can get in NY on their back with their legs in the air”. Its something I thought not even funny at the time, but said everything I came to know about Charles Gandee: he is the most incredibly bitter motherfucker I ever came across. Needless to say, we aren’t friends (basically because I refused to sleep with him and he tossed me overboard like a dead weight, as I was of no use to him if I didn’t sleep with him or find him attractive). Not only is Mr. Gandee unattractive on the outside, he is ugly on the inside. I don’t regret our friendship ever ending so many years ago.
I always wondered though, back to you now, why you were always alone, always on the edge or periphery of things, always observing I guess as writers do.
I always wanted to walk up to you and talk, but never had the courage to for you seemed so shy and unapproachable, maybe it was me who was shy and unapproachable, after all, you were in the Interview/Vanity Fair fame period, I just always felt that you seemed lonely. I hope you weren’t and aren’t. I wish you only the best, tell your truth, it is important to see someone tell his truth and not be ashamed, and for that I admire you, you aren’t afraid to tell your truth. Getting back to Mr. Gandee, if you ever see him (I haven’t seen him since Anna Wintour threw him overboard years ago) tell him he is a FUCKING ASSHOLE WHO SHOULD DIE ALREADY.
OF COURSE, ooops, Robert isn’t my real name, I am writing under a fake name, I just wanted to relay the day that Charles Gandee and I ran into you probably about 15 years ago or more, and after you left us on the street, the unkind thing he said about you. Right then and there, before I rejected his advances, I knew that this was an evildoer that I needed to get away from, and suffice to say, I did.
Just another story maybe for your memoir or next book, I’d like to see you skewer Mr. Gandee, he was such a self-important bore, part of the whole Ingrid Sichy, Todd Eberle, Richard Pandiscio BIG BAGS OF BULLSHIT CROWD that ruined New York.
May 25th, 2008 at 7:07 pm
I was going to was on profusely, but following a comment like the one above, there’s not much left to say. Oh maybe one or two things, like Sissy is incredible. It is a work of genius. I did not read it, I listened to it. It amazed me that you kept all of your characters voices separated and distinguishable. Bravo on a work well done. I look forward to more.
May 25th, 2008 at 8:10 pm
“wax” instead of “was” and it makes a little more sense.
May 27th, 2008 at 3:41 am
You had a photograph on your dressing table -a girl friend’s crotch beside a sign that read: Fine Box. I’ve laughed at the thought of it since 1978.
May 27th, 2008 at 1:56 pm
Hi Kevin:
Just wanted you to know that I am reading MISSISSIPPI SISSY and I am loving your story. Thank you for baring your soul and being real. You’re my new hero!
I also think that your writing style is brilliant and I can’t put the book down. Congratulations on your success!
I would be very grateful if you would email me back. I also live in NYC and have written some “queer” music stemming from my own life experiences. It would be an honor to have your feedback regarding my songs.
May 30th, 2008 at 10:49 am
i’m working on a film and would like to speak with you concerning an interview. please reply to my e-mail.
thanks!
May 31st, 2008 at 9:29 am
Congrats on the Lambda Literary Award!!!
June 7th, 2008 at 9:54 pm
kevin only dated the finest of boxes
June 7th, 2008 at 9:59 pm
kevin only dates the finest of boxes
June 7th, 2008 at 9:59 pm
pardon the echo
June 9th, 2008 at 2:08 pm
OMG! I have to admit I bought the book because one of the reviews said it was a little like Augusten Burroughs (I KNOW! I am such a follower!!) I have to say I love it in a way that sets you apart from him. Epiphany is great and I can’t wait to read more.
June 9th, 2008 at 7:00 pm
HI Kevin (if I may so informal,)
I just finished your book that I checked out of the SF Public Library - I hope you don’t think less of me for that! The bitter-sweet ending left me in such a mood I HAD to write. I was on the train to Amsterdam with a friend when I was reading the part about you in the sewing room with your new skirt! I was laughing so hard then my laughter turned to tears people were starring at me wondering what in the world I could be reading that would cause such a reaction! It was my secret, and my secret alone…
You are an amazing writer Kevin. Thank you for sharing with us all. I look forward to more. I can only hope to meet you in person one day. Ever been to SF? It is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G here! I would love to give you a tour, I make an excellent tour guide to our fair City, where same-sex marriage will be legal in 1 week!!!
With as much gratitude I can muster in a Blog reply,
Lee (SF)
June 13th, 2008 at 7:13 pm
Hey studman,
Have you ever thought about making it to N.C. If so, I would like to invite you to be a special guest at our N.C. Equality Luau Party in Pinehurst! It is going to be a fabulous event, and would be a great place to promote your book Mississipi Sissy!
http://www.equalitync.org/
Jason
June 17th, 2008 at 8:19 am
Hi Kevin: Long time since you posted something on your blog. How about an update including your time in NOLA for the Tennessee Williams Literary Festival. I just learned about the passing of 10’s brother Dakin. The “professional brother”. I see they did a production of CAMINO REAL at the Festival. How did you like it? I saw a really good production of that play once. It is one of my most favorite Tenn. Williams plays.
I think it is from that play that this line comes:
“The flowers are breaking through the rocks!”.
I really look forward to buying and reading the sequel to Mississippi Sissy.
June 18th, 2008 at 9:39 am
hi mr. sessums (though after reading your book i feel i ought to refer to you as kevin, or perhaps kevinator, though i shall not be so bold and will stick with the more gentlemanly “mr. sessums”).
i, like many who have commented here, come from the south. though, florida may not fit into the traditional mold of “the south”, i faced alot of southern-baptist, fire-and-brimstone while growing up - so much so, i thought myself a resident of alabama rather than tampa, fl. reading your memoir was very touching, inspiring, and (to be perfectly frank) saddening. it evoked in me emotions and memories i had not experienced for many years. i kindly thank you for telling me your deep secrets and feelings.
i suppose we all (gay people) share many of the same types of experiences to greater and lesser degrees, but it somehow makes it much more enjoyable (and bearable) to remember them when i realize someone such as yourself trod these trails 30 years before my birth, and prevailed.
mr. sessums, i thank you again for a kind and thought provoking memoir. your courage and self-reflection have inspired me to begin a long needed process of healing - though it may take an even longer time i can gladly say your book helped kick-start me down a road i have yet to tread, but look forward to prevailing over.
July 1st, 2008 at 7:54 pm
Mr. Sessums,
I’ve been reading your work in Vanity Fair for years and without fail you manage to tell one enlightening tale after another. None, however, come close to the wonderful achievement that is “Mississippi Sissy.” You are a gifted, funny, clever, massively-hearted man. Gay, straight, bi, black, white or stripedy, I think you and your story are beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing it with us.
July 9th, 2008 at 9:12 pm
Just finished reading your memoir. I laughted, I cried, and I felt sympathy for you losses. Living up north, in an isolated Inuit community, I noticed that some of the locals dwell on their bad situation in life, and never seem to be able to move forward. I’m impressed with the accomplishments that you have achieved given the deck you were dealt. Your strength will be one of the main thing that I’ll remember.
Furthermore, your memoirs moved me to explore wikipedia to find out more about Eudora Welty’s works. And you’ve given me a reason to explore Mississippi someday. Me thinks, that your a Mississippi hero. I’m looking forward to that book your working on… many thanks.
July 20th, 2008 at 9:25 pm
Hi Kevin,
Mississippi Gay Guy here from Jones County living in Santa Fe, NM. I just finished reading Mississppi Sissy while on vacation in Provincetown.
Thank You. Two words never expressed so much emotion. I feel we share a bonds on so many levels. You are now one of my favorite authors.
Regards,
Joey
July 26th, 2008 at 12:09 pm
Hi Kevin,
Just writing to say that your book got me through the second painful week after jaw surgery (the first belonged to John Barrowman’s autobiography and John Falk’s memior). Reading Mississippi Sissy, I was so lost in this Mississippi world I’ve never known. Your book provided a different ache to focus on- one infinately more painful, but so incredibly important.
Thank you for sharing.
Week three, I think, and beyond belongs to this blog.
July 30th, 2008 at 12:25 pm
Hi Kevin. Back in Aug 2007 I saw you on Commercial Street in P-town. I had just bought your book and had not even read one page. I approched you because I recognized your photo but I think I caught you off guard and I had a lost of words. Long story short that Summer and this entire year flew by without me reading it. So again this Summer this time in Costa Rica I promised myself that I would read it. I did and was very touch and moved by your story. Thank you for sharing your life with us. It was very inspirational to me and next time I see you I promise not to be a a crazy person with a lost of words.
david
July 30th, 2008 at 6:07 pm
Mr. Kevin,
Like the folks who’ve posted comments on here before, not to mention the throngs of fellow Miss’ippians who’ve read your fabulous, fabulous book, I just wanted to say thanks for writing. (But what’s up with not posting another blog?)
Like “Joeyinsantafe,” I’m from Jones County, Miss., too — and for a variety of reasons, chief among them being a big ol’ flamin’ queen, I’m quite thankful I’m no longer there. Whatever, your book would’ve touched me anyway, but it had much more meaning having grown up a Mississippi Sissy myself, as well as being a journalist. Not re-MOTE-ly as good as you, of course, but still …
So blah, blah, blah, thanks so, so much for sharing your gift. You rock. xoxo
August 6th, 2008 at 6:45 pm
Hi, Just wanted to tell you that I finished listening to Mississippi Sissy and am looking forward to your next book. As an elementary teacher in rural America, I have had many occasions to deal with this issue and it makes my heart bleed to see children still having to struggle with this in 2009. Your book touched me so much. My hope is that many more people will come to accept and revel in our differences instead of fear and hate them, so that the little faces I see in my classroom can lead happy lives, “sissies” or not! Thank you for such a delightful book.
Laurie
August 21st, 2008 at 11:23 am
I bought your book on my recent trip to Provincetown and read it intently on the beach (between swimming and watching the boys go by … gotta love summer!). What a lovely book. I sincerely enjoyed it and was genuinely moved by it.
(I could have sworn I saw you on one of my walks into town on your bicycle but there are many folicaly challenged men around … myself included … so I was probably mistaken.)