"Sex Camp"

Sex Camp

By

Brian McNaught

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: 833-262-8899

© 2005 Brian McNaught. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/08/2024

ISBN: 978-1-4208-1645-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4208-1646-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4208-1644-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2004099404

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

I LOVE MYSELF THE WAY I AM

Words and Music by Jai Josef

Copyright © 1979, 2001 Jai-Jo Music (BMI)

All rights reserved. Used by permission.

Cover art and design by

Brian Briz Ahern

www.brizycomics.com

KEY TO COVER ART

(Left to right, back row:) Charlie, Leona, Carol, Chuck, Dominic, Wendy, Gina, Lisa, Lloyd, Thomas, Dick, Margaret, Joe. (Middle row:) Maggie, George, Betty, Carla/Carl, Dan, Alison, Pam, Gail, Marjorie, Curtis, Bill, Beatrice, Ben. (Front row:) Grace, Judith, Martha, Annette, Beverly, Peter, Kevin, Brian, Joanne, Tonya, Paula.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Dedication

Preface

Author’s Note

Chapter One Welcome

Chapter Two Tears at the Table

Chapter Three Introduction of Staff

Chapter Four The Participants

Chapter Five The Program Begins

Chapter Six Mary Lee’s Tree

Chapter Seven Icebreaker

Chapter Eight Carla Joins the Group

Chapter Nine Skill Building

Chapter Ten The SAR Begins

Chapter Eleven What is Sexuality?

Chapter Twelve Betty and Peter’s Explanations

Chapter Thirteen Sexual Values

Chapter Fourteen The SAR Group Forms

Chapter Fifteen Prayer in the Woods

Chapter Sixteen The Dinner Meeting

Chapter Seventeen Body Image

Chapter Eighteen The Campfire

Chapter Nineteen The Run

Chapter Twenty Self-Pleasuring

Chapter Twenty-One Staff Meeting

Chapter Twenty-Two A Trip to the Zoo

Chapter Twenty-Three Gender Identity & Expression

Chapter Twenty-Four Kevin’s Story

Chapter Twenty-Five Dan’s Reaction

Chapter Twenty-Six Maggie’s Map

Chapter Twenty-Seven Dom’s Uncle Murray

Chapter Twenty-Eight Hurdles to Sexual Health

Chapter Twenty-Nine Beatrice’s Map

Chapter Thirty Alone on the Beach

Chapter Thirty-One Signs of Trouble and of Community

Chapter Thirty-Two The Big O

Chapter Thirty-Three Dom’s Map

Chapter Thirty-Four Ben’s Swim

Chapter Thirty-Five Heterosexuality

Chapter Thirty-Six Margaret’s Map

Chapter Thirty-Seven Carla, Betty and the Tree

Chapter Thirty-Eight The Hand Exercise

Chapter Thirty-Nine A Walk with Joe

Chapter Forty Gay Day

Chapter Forty-One A Face on the Issue

Chapter Forty-Two Charlie’s Map

Chapter Forty-Three Catherine’s Discomfort

Chapter Forty-Four The Stages of Coming Out

Chapter Forty-Five Writing on the Board

Chapter Forty-Six Wendy’s Map

Chapter Forty-Seven Thomas and Peter Talk

Chapter Forty-Eight Lifestyles

Chapter Forty-Nine Leona’s Map

Chapter Fifty Alison and Dick on Aging

Chapter Fifty-One The Universe as a Turn On

Chapter Fifty-Two The Final SAR Group

Chapter Fifty-Three The Last Staff Meeting

Chapter Fifty-Four A Stranger in Our Midst

Chapter Fifty-Five Leona and Betty Talk

Chapter Fifty-Six Saying Goodbye to Thornfield

Chapter Fifty-Seven The Celebration

Postscript

About The Author

ALSO BY BRIAN McNAUGHT

A Disturbed Peace

On Being Gay

Gay Issues in the Workplace

Now That I’m Out, What Do I Do?

Acknowledgments

Without the incredible generosity of the staff of the Annual Workshop on Sexuality, this book simply would not have been possible. Dick Cross, Alison Deming, Carol Dopp, Bill Stayton, and Pam Wilson not only allowed me to share the fruit of their life’s work, but also surrendered themselves to my loving caricatures of them. They faithfully read and provided valuable feedback on each chapter as it was finished. Any good that might result from this book is theirs to share equally.

We have created an intimate, playful, and supportive family at the Annual Workshop, and our members are many. In addition to the above mentioned, our strong family tree includes Gail Brett, Michael Butera, and Linda Roessler. Sol Gordon, who planted the tree, grafted many cherished limbs, including Steve Allen, Jr., Andrea Parrott Allen, Larry Bass, Gloria and Barry Blum, Peggy Brick, Sandy Caron, Carol Cassell, Sandra Cole, Paul Fleming, Sylvia Hacker, Ruth Kaufman, Bill Kelly, Marty Klein, Lynn Leight, Jan Lundquist, Bianca Cody Murphy, Peter Scales, Peter Sladowski, and Marty Weisberg. These, and many more names, are beloved colleagues whose work in the past made the workshop the highly-regarded success it is known to be.

Besides the staff, I had access for this book to the expertise of Roger Barbee, Jim Braude, Mary Ann Horton, and Joe Kramer in guaranteeing the accuracy of information about disability, gender expression, and physiology. I also had the watchful eye of my spouse, Ray Struble, who swallowed deeply before offering his critique of each page passed to him for comments. Likewise, our friends David McChesney, Tom Roberts, and Karen Van Arsdale provided helpful encouragement. I was guided along the way too by Barbara Carrellas, Charles Cesaretti, Debra Haffner, Mark Leach, Eric Marcus, Armistead Maupin, and Bob McCamant.

Special thanks go to Brian (Briz) Ahern for his wonderful talent and deep commitment to creating the perfect cover for Sex Camp, and to Ed Teo and Ron Robin for their dedication to effectively promote this book.

Finally, I acknowledge with enormous gratitude the hundreds of people who have come to our workshop and so courageously and generously shared their stories with us. Fragments of their lives have been lovingly stitched into the quilt represented by the thirty-two participants described herein.

Dedication

For

Mary Lee Tatum,

Susan Vasbinder,

Dick Cross,

and all others who have

dedicated themselves to

our sexual health.

Preface

In the beautiful Finger Lakes region of New York State, on the very private grounds of an Episcopal Church retreat facility, there’s been an annual, week-long, intensive workshop in human sexuality that has, over the past 30 years, dramatically impacted the lives of hundreds of everyday people, me included. This fictionalized book seeks to tell the story of that remarkable program.

The Annual Workshop on Sexuality at Thornfield, affectionately referred to as Sex Camp by staff and participants, was inspired and initiated by Dr. Sol Gordon, a pioneer in the field of human sexuality. The program has since been lovingly guided and nurtured into maturity by a staff of deeply-committed, highly-regarded sexuality professionals. Their names in this book are accurate, as are the descriptions of the setting and the content of the workshop. The names and personal details of all of the participants, however, are fictional.

Author’s Note

While the intention of this book is to enlighten and to entertain, it should be read with the understanding that neither the author nor the publisher is engaged here in rendering therapeutic advice. If professional help is sought in the areas of sexuality education, therapy, or counseling, or in any area discussed in this book, the reader is urged to contact his or her physician, and/or local mental health facility, or to seek a referral from the American Association of Sex Educators, Counselors, and Therapists (AASECT) by contacting them on the Internet at www.aasect.org., or by writing to them at P.O. Box 5488, Richmond, VA 23220-0488.

Chapter One

SATURDAY

Welcome

The scratched, red plastic bucket overflowed with the bounty of the morning’s hunt—-day lilies, black-eyed Susans, Queen Anne’s lace, sweet pea, and other roadside wildflowers whose sight prompted happy childhood memories but whose names I still didn’t know.

Alison pulled them out a stem at a time, carefully arranging each according to height, color, size, and texture into her favorite green porcelain vase, a prized find from the Cazenovia Craft Fair.

A masterpiece! announced a lean, grey-haired man with a broad grin, accentuated by deep-set laugh lines around his eyes.

Thank you, Alison replied with surprise, her hand outstretched. I’m Alison Deming. Welcome to Thornfield! And who might you be?

I’m Thomas Miller, Alison. It’s a real pleasure meeting you.

Ah, Thomas. How good to have a face to put with the name. You’ve arrived safely from Santa Fe. Good for you. Have you checked in?

Yes, thank you. Gail signed me in and told me how to find my room. Can I help you with anything?

Why, thank you for asking. Would you be a dear and take these over to Ridings, that handsome building across the lawn, and put them in a prominent place? That’s where we’ll be gathering for the opening session. Lunch is at noon. We start the program at one. It’s all in your packet. Now, please make yourself at home. Take a dip in the lake. The water’s marvelous. Or go for a nice walk around the grounds. We’ve got thirty-seven acres here. Please introduce yourself to whomever you meet, and please be sure to wear your name badge at all times.

A place of prominence. I’ll be sure to find the perfect spot, Thomas said as he headed across the lawn, both hands holding the arrangement.

Who’s he? I asked as I exited Higley, the staff dorm, and approached the picnic table where a second vase of flowers was being arranged.

Thomas Miller, Alison said. He’s a hospital chaplain in Santa Fe.

Gay? I asked.

"My guess is ‘yes.’ He let me know in his call to me that he’s HIV-positive. That’s obviously for staff information only," she said looking up briefly and making eye contact to drive home her seriousness.

You don’t have to tell me, I said a bit indignantly.

"I know I don’t have to tell you, she smiled, but make sure that the others are clear about it."

Good morning! I said to the two women walking toward the table on their way to the lake.

Good morning, they chimed in unison, now directing their path toward us.

Welcome to Thornfield. I’m Brian McNaught and this is Alison Deming.

Good morning and welcome, said Alison.

Oh Brian. Trish Weaver said to say ‘Hi.’ I’m Wendy Taylor. Trish and I work at the Cleveland Youth project. She said you’d remember.

Oh, wow. Sure. Of course. Trish, I lied, already feeling frustrated by the need to remember names and embarrassed by the difficulty I have in doing so. How’s she doing?

Great. She insisted that I come. She was here two years ago. Oh, and I’m sorry. This is Barbara.

"No, Beverly," smiled the handsome black woman at her side.

Oh, I’m sorry, said Wendy. We just met, she explained.

That’s okay. I’m Beverly Johnson, she said.

From Trinidad! Alison exclaimed, dropping her scissors and taking Beverly’s arms in both of her hands. "How nice to meet you. And what a long way you’ve come. Beverly is a health care worker from Bernadette’s agency," Alison explained to me.

Bernadette was here four years ago, I explained to Wendy.

No three, Alison corrected. "And Wendy, how nice to have you with us. I heard from Trish a year ago that there wasn’t any money in the budget to send someone last year, but that she would make sure someone from the agency came this year. We’re glad you’re here."

Thanks, said Wendy. I’ve heard all about Thornfield. I can’t want for it to start.

It’s started! exclaimed Alison. You and Beverly have met! And I’ll bet you find you have a lot in common. Are you headed to the water?

Yea, we just want to get a lay of the land, Wendy said.

Well, have fun. And remember, both of you, to wear your name badges, Alison said.

Have you been to your rooms? I asked.

We’re roommates, Beverly replied with a big smile. That’s where we met.

Brian, be a dear and take this vase up to the registration desk. And ask Gail if she needs anything. If you see Carol, ask her to put the Kleenex and supplies in each of the meeting sites.

Carol is picking up people at the airport. Where’re our helpers? I’ll have them put out the supplies? I said.

I have Tonya in town with my car getting food and drink for tonight’s party, and Kevin was setting up the resource table the last time I knew, though I think I spotted him heading to the beach.

I’ll put out the Kleenex and supplies, I said. Where’s Pam?

She’s going through the marked-up newsprint from last year to see if it’s all there, Alison said. Bill’s running late. He’s got Dick with him in his car.

Did you remind the chef that lunch is early today? I asked.

What do you mean?

Every day it’s 12:30. Today it’s at 12:00 so that we can start the program at one.

He’s been told but maybe you better check, she said as she worked to pick up her clippings.

Who’s that over there? I asked, nodding at a woman sitting in the lotus position on the hillside, seemingly staring at the lake.

I don’t know. Why don’t you go over and introduce yourself?

I’ve got to go put the Kleenex out.

Go then. We’ll find out soon enough.

Up in Peabody, a new arrival glared at an empty mattress.

Honey, if they think I’m making up my own bed, they’re crazy, Leona Mills said with disgust to the empty dorm room. "Will you look at these sheets? Which one’s supposed to be the bottom? And get a load of that towel. I wouldn’t dry my dog off with that towel. I did not sign up to go to some kid’s summer camp. This is supposed to be a professional development conference. And I’m not sharing no bathroom with three other women either."

Hi. You must be my roommate, said a tall woman with curly, grey hair as she entered the room, her left hand pulling a rolling suitcase, her right arm outstretched. I’m Betty Koslowski, she continued, taking Leona’s hand. Just get in?

Hi Betty. I’m Leona Mills. I’m with Planned Parenthood in Washington, D.C. Did you know that you have to make your own bed?

This is my third time through Thornfield. Making the bed doesn’t bother me. I just wish it was a little longer, Betty laughed, taking the other end of Leona’s sheet and helping her make up the bed she’d selected by the window. If you need extra blankets, they’re on the top of the closet. Extra hangers can be ‘stolen’ from the other rooms. Extra towels are put out in the living room every couple of days.

I’d hope so. Do we actually have to share that bathroom with other women?

Probably, if they have a full enrollment. It’s not so bad. Actually, it can be kind of fun, she said as she pulled a pillow into its case. Food’s good here, Leona. I put on a couple of pounds every time I come.

What’s this whole week about? Leona asked. My director sent me here. She just raved about it, but wouldn’t get specific. She said it ‘changed’ her life, and that I’d have to find out about it for myself.

It’s a really amazing week, but it’s really what you make of it.

"So what do you do, Betty? What brings you back here three times?"

I’m getting my masters in counseling. Right now, I make a living doing computer programming.

Hmm. Well, I work with pregnancy prevention, mostly with inner city schools in the D.C. area.

Did you come here by yourself? Betty asked as she started working on making her own bed.

Yes, but that girl at registration said there were a few others from different Planned Parenthood affiliates here, Leona replied as she began pulling clothes out of her suitcase and hanging them in the closet.

That’s Gail. She’s cool. She works with the deaf, and she’ll teach you how to sign. She’s a great dancer too, and has the cutest butt.

I didn’t notice her butt, said Leona, looking a little nonplused, but I’m not that kind of girl, if you know what I mean?

I do, and I am, said Betty, with a smile but stiffening a bit.

"I do, and I am what?" Leona asked, stopping her unpacking.

"I do know what you mean about not being that kind of girl who would notice a woman’s cute butt, said Betty calmly, and I am that kind of girl who would notice a woman’s cute butt."

Oh, said Leona. "So you’re a lesbian?"

Yes, I am, replied Betty. Is that going to be a problem?

Oh, this gets better and better, Leona thought to herself, but said, "I don’t have a problem. Are you going to have a problem?"

No problem at this end, Leona. But I can ask Alison to switch our rooms if you want.

No. I’m fine. But I do think I’ll go out and check out the place. If you don’t want any help with your bed, I’ll see you later.

This is going to be an interesting week, chuckled Betty to herself.

As she exited Peabody, Leona eyed an encounter taking place across the breezeway.

Can I give you a hand with that? the full bodied, round-faced woman asked as she opened the door to Huntington for the good-looking, buffed man in the wheelchair.

Thanks, he said as he maneuvered himself to the registration desk.

Do you have luggage somewhere that you need help with? she continued.

I got help from the person who dropped me off. Thanks. It’s outside the dorm. I’m Ben Ellis, he said, reaching out his right hand.

Hi Ben, I’m Joanne Douglas. It’s really nice to meet you.

And I’m Gail Brett, the registrar. Welcome to Thornfield both of you, said the petite, curly, black-haired woman from behind the counter. I have your room assignments, participant packets, and name badges all ready for you. Let me see, Ben Ellis. Yes, here we go. Ben, we have you down in Higley, which is the staff dorm. We thought it would be easier for you to get around down there. But, I need you to first sign in for me here, she said, handing him a clipboard and pen.

Are there any other participants staying in the staff dorm? I’d really rather stay with the other participants, he said as he started to sign the statement. And what’s this I’m signing?

I’m sorry. It’s just a registration form required by our host, the Thornfield Retreat Center. And you are, of course, welcome to stay with the other participants in Peabody. We just thought it would be easier for you because the bathrooms down in Higley are wheelchair-accessible. Why not take a look for yourself at Peabody and see how it works for you? If you want to stay there, I’ll switch a couple of people who haven’t checked in yet, and put them up on the second floor. There’s a room on the first floor right near the door that you could have. After I check Joanne in, I’ll go over to Peabody with you.

I’ll go with him, Gail. You’re busy here. Let me sign in, and Ben and I will check it out.

Thanks, Joanne. Is that okay with you, Ben?

Sounds good to me, he said, rolling his chair back away from the desk, and turning it to face the door. So when do they start the porn? he asked with a big grin.

Oh, so you’ve heard about the films, have you? Gail laughed, as she handed Joanne her packet and registration form.

Why do you think I came? he flirted.

"It’s not porn, and the films start tomorrow morning, I think. Anyway, lunch today is at noon. The program begins at one, over in Ridings, which is the building across the lawn. Please bring your packets to every session, and please wear your name badges all day, every day, Gail said. Oops. I forgot to give them to you, didn’t I? she giggled as she perused the counter top filled with circular, laminated tags, each with calligraphy-style first names surrounded by colorful little stars. Oh, here we go."

So, we’ve got our packets, and our name badges, Ben. You ready to go? Joanne asked, as she moved toward the door.

Ready when you are, he replied.

Have you looked around at all? she asked as she led the way across the breezeway to Peabody. It’s really a beautiful site, and the lake is … She stopped herself.

Yea, it looks inviting, doesn’t it? Ben said as he maneuvered his chair behind her. I haven’t been in the water for a long, long time. I’d kind of thought I’d go swimming this week, he winked.

Twenty-some miles away at the Syracuse airport, Carol collected her crew.

Okay, we’re all in. Everyone’s got their luggage? she asked as she pulled away from the terminal.

Yep. I’m here. All set. Thanks, came the replies from three of the four passengers.

Why don’t you guys tell me something about yourselves? Dominic, you be my navigator, okay? Carol said, passing a sheet of handwritten instructions to the athletic-looking man riding shotgun. "Where are you all from? What do you do? What brings you to Thornfield? And please don’t tell Alison that I asked you to do this. You’re going to have to do it all over again when we start the program this afternoon. But half the fun for me this week is meeting new people and making new friends. So, I’ll start. My name is Carol Dopp. I’m a counselor and a family life educator in a private co-ed school in the Washington, D.C. area. I have a beautiful daughter named Kerrigan, and I’ve been coming to Thornfield for the past twelve years. I came for my first two years as a participant, and then I joined the staff."

It looks like you’ve got a turn coming up, advised Dominic.

Oh, right. Thanks, Carol said, putting on her turn signal. Okay, who’s next?

Well, I’ll go, said her navigator. I’m Dominic Paluzzi, but my friends call me Dom. I’m a football coach at Liberty View High School in Dayton, Ohio, and I’ve been assigned to teach a family life course to juniors and seniors. I was told by my friend Joyce Evans that she got a lot out of her time at Thornfield, and that I should come to ‘Sex Camp’.

Oh, wow, Joyce! Carol said with an ear-to-ear grin. "I loved Joyce. She was great! We stayed up half the night watching this dumb movie that Brian brought called Glen or Glenda? I Lived Two Lives."

She told me, Dom laughed.

"You’re going to love this week, Carol said enthusiastically. I’m really glad that you’re here. So, who’s next?"

I’ll go. I’m Paula Pendergast, came a voice from the back seat. I’m from Tempe, Arizona, where I ’m a sex therapist. I came to Thornfield to work with Bill Stayton and to get the 44 ceus for AASECT certification. I’m a single mom with a handsome son who’s gay, and who lives in Atlanta.

A gay son, huh? You’ll have to talk with Brian. How did you hear about Thornfield? Carol asked.

"From Alison Deming. I met her at the AASECT conference in Miami and she gave me the brochure. And I do want to talk with Brian."

What’s AASECT? Dom asked. And Carol, it says you stay on this until you get to Route 84.

Thanks. AASECT is the American Association of Sex Educators, Counselors, and Therapists. They certify people in the field. Bill Stayton was president, a while back. They offer 44 continuing education units, or ceus, for the week. They require a SAR for certification, and our whole program’s wrapped around a SAR.

What’s a SAR? asked Dom.

Dirty movies, laughed Paula.

Dirty movies? came an interested male voice from the back seat.

"They’re not dirty movies, Carol said. They’re explicit. They’re not ‘dirty.’ Years ago, the SAR program was designed in California by the Methodist Church. Explicit sexual films on a variety of topics like masturbation, homosexuality, disability, and aging are used to get people thinking about their feelings and about their values. Bill will be explaining the whole thing when we get together this afternoon.

There are going to be explicit films on homosexuality? asked Dom a bit nervously.

Cool! exclaimed the same unnamed male voice from the back seat.

I thought you might like that, Dan, teased Carol. Why don’t you tell us about yourself?

I’m Dan Schemp. I’m queer, and I work with high risk kids for AIDS LA.

What brings you to Thornfield? Carol asked.

A couple people from another AIDS agency have been here, and they recommended it to me. I’m actually looking forward to the discussion about queer people and the link between heterosexism, homophobia, and sexism. And thanks for telling us that your son’s queer, he said to Paula.

"Gay. My son is gay, she replied. I hate the word ‘queer’."

Whatever, Dan sighed, focusing his eyes on the view out the window.

The car was now silent. It remained so for a couple miles.

We’re about halfway there, announced Carol. Three down, one to go. What about you, Joe?

My name is Joe Cook. My partner and I live in St. Helena, California, and I’m a retired professor of theology from Georgetown. What else? Oh yes, I’ve come to this program on sexuality because I’ve done a lot of work with the Center for Sexuality and Religion, and they recommended it. I believe they ‘partner’ with the training. Is that right, Carol?

Right, she said smiling as she made eye contact through the rearview mirror. We’ve got a great group of partners now. CSR, GLSEN, Planned Parenthood, and SIECUS.

Who are all those groups? Dom asked. And you know you’ve got an exit coming up pretty soon?

Yea, I know where I am now. Thanks. And I’m sorry about the acronyms, Carol replied. CSR is the Center for Sexuality and Religion. GLSEN is the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network. Planned Parenthood …

I know Planned Parenthood, Dom jumped in.

Right. And then, what have I left off? Oh yea, SIECUS is the Sex Information and Education Council of the United States. They’re all great groups, and we love having their endorsement, said Carol.

How long have you and your partner been together? Dan asked, turning to Joe.

Thirty-seven years, Joe replied with a smile and a wink.

Congratulations, said Paula. I hope my son finds someone he can be with for thirty-seven years.

Eleanor and I hope our children do too, said Joe, as long as that would make them happy.

The smile on Paula’s face turned to a look of confusion. Dan peered disappointedly out his window.

Chapter Two

Tears at the Table

They’re lovely, aren’t they? Catherine Mitchell whispered as she carefully approached the crouched man who had focused his lens on the mother duck and her eight little ones. Living signs of God’s wonder.

They’re great, he said, maintaining his pose and purpose.

One, two, three quick shots he took as the family of ducks nervously paddled away from the small cove in front of the Thornfield boathouse.

I shouldn’t have interrupted you. I’m sorry, she said.

No problem. I got a couple of great shots. Hi. I’m Kevin Brooks, he said, now standing and extending his right hand. You here for the workshop?

I am, Catherine said, taking his hand, and noting the strength of his grip. You too?

Yep.

Are you nervous? she asked.

Always a little, but I love this place, and I always have a really good time, he said.

You’ve been here before, Kevin? she asked.

I’m a little slow, I guess, he said with a laugh. I have to keep coming back to get it right.

What do you do? she asked.

I’m a graphic artist, and an amateur photographer, he said. How about you?

I’m an Episcopal priest, she replied. I’m at a church outside of Seattle.

A woman priest! Far out, Kevin said smiling.

Episcopal, she clarified. The Romans don’t allow it.

It’s still cool. Oh wow! Look at that, he said as he pulled his digital camera to his face, and focused on the hot air balloon that slowly approached from the far end of the lake. It’s got the rainbow colors!

It certainly does, Catherine acknowledged, her mouth turning from a smile to pursed lips. It’s getting about time for lunch, she said, looking at her watch. I’ll see you up there, Kevin. It was nice meeting you.

Thanks, Catherine, he said as the lean, wiry, salt and pepper-haired woman turned to stride up the hill. It’s nice meeting you too.

Is that you, Kevin? came a loud voice from the top of the hill. "Hi, sweetie! How are you?"

Pam Wilson headed down the hill with a determined step to embrace her old friend. As she encountered Catherine, she stopped to introduce herself.

Hi there. I’m Pam Wilson, she said with a big smile. I’m on the staff of the workshop. Welcome to Thornfield.

Hi, Pam. I’m Catherine Mitchell. I look forward to working with you, she said.

What brings you here? Pam asked.

I’m an assistant pastor of an Episcopal church outside of Seattle. I’m taking over the youth group, and I was told by a colleague that this week might help me with that.

Oh, boy, will it ever, Catherine. I’m glad you came. Have you met Bill Stayton yet? Bill’s a Baptist minister, an American Baptist, not the Southern kind.

I’ve heard of Bill. He’s one of the reasons I wanted to come here. I’m counting on getting a handle on these issues from a religious perspective, Catherine replied.

"That’s not a Seattle accent I hear," Pam said with a grin.

No, I’m from South Carolina originally.

I thought I recognized that accent. I’ve got family there. In fact, I’m missing a big family reunion this week. This is a family reunion here too, but I’ll miss seeing my relatives, and I’ll miss big time the collards, black-eyed peas, fried catfish, and corn bread I know they’ll be having.

You’re making me hungry, Catherine said.

Mmm. Me too. But before I go to lunch, I want to go down and say ‘hi’ to my buddy, Kevin. It was a pleasure meeting you, Catherine, Pam said, taking Catherine’s right hand in both of hers and squeezing gently. I’ll see you shortly. With that, she was running carefully down the hill with arms outstretched for Kevin.

Hi, handsome! she said as she hugged her friend tightly. You look so good. How have you been doing?

Pretty good, he said with a laugh of delight in being so warmly welcomed. Did you see the balloon with the rainbow colors?

Oh my gosh, look at that, Pam said as the balloon and its occupants drifted past. Isn’t that beautiful? So now, Kevin, come clean. Are there any new developments in the romantic arena?

No, he said with a shy smile. Nothing new to report. How about you?

Well, now, I do have something to report. His name is Richard. He’s wonderful. Brian and Ray met him and they really clicked. He’s a great guy, and I’m very much in love.

That’s great, Kevin said enthusiastically. Here, let me get a picture of you.

"Oh, Kevin, I hate my pictures."

You won’t hate this, and if you do, I won’t show it to anyone. Promise.

Okay, she said, taking the place on the log he pointed to as he focused his camera.

Say ‘clitoris’, he said, prompting a smile on his friend he had described to others as Halle Bally’s twin sister.

At the top of the hill, in the Huntington dining room, lunch had begun.

Mind if I join you? the short, stout man with the jovial smile asked as he set his large plate of American chop suey on the table.

Please do, replied the young, redheaded, freckle-faced woman with green eyes. I’m Maggie.

Hi, Maggie. I’m George, he said, placing down his salad bowl and extending his pudgy hand.

Hi, George. This is Martha. Right?

Right.

And Beverly, she said.

Hello, the two black women said in unison.

Nice to meet you both. Now, can I get anyone something to drink? George asked as he turned for the table supporting the milk and hot chocolate machines, juice and water dispensers, and coffee urns.

I’d love a glass of water, Maggie said with a big smile.

So what brings you to Thornfield? George asked upon his return with the water, and with a big glass of mixed lemonade and cranberry juice.

Beverly and I are health care workers in Trinidad, Martha said. We work with teenagers in pregnancy prevention, HIV, and pre and postnatal care. Colleagues of ours have come here in the past, and returned home with strong recommendations that we come ourselves. We just met Maggie.

I’m a homemaker from Racine. Maggie said. I’ve got two little ones who are going to miss their mommy this week. My husband, Barry, came here last year, and returned home a very different person. Our therapist strongly suggested that I needed to come this time.

What about you, George? Martha asked.

Well, I’m here for the food, as you can tell, he said, raising his eyebrows at the mound of pasta, tomato sauce, and ground beef that filled his plate. I heard there are no limits on helpings.

If this lunch is any indication, the food is really good. I’ll be a blimp by the end of the week if I’m not careful, Maggie said. But besides the food, George, what brings you here?

A friend of mine came a couple of years ago and raved about it. He made me swear I’d come. I avoided it for a while but he kept hounding me, so I came. I wanted to meet Brian McNaught, and I thought it’d be helpful in my work. I’m a pastor for a small church near Toledo. That’s in Ohio, he said to Martha and Beverly.

I already explained that Racine is in Wisconsin, Maggie said. What denomination?

MCC. That’s the Metropolitan Community Church, he replied. It’s a Christian denomination with a principal outreach to gay and transgender people, and their families. I don’t think we have a church in Trinidad, but we do have them all over the world.

Does that mean that you’re gay? Maggie asked.

Not all of our pastors are gay, but I am, he said. I was in the seminary to be a Catholic priest, but I got kicked out when they found out I was gay. So I entered the MCC seminary. It changed my life.

How so? Martha asked.

When I was a Catholic seminarian, I was 6’2, blond, and 165 pounds of muscle," he replied with a wink

George! Martha protested with a laugh as Beverly giggled, hiding her mouth with her hand, and looking away.

I found my place in the world, he said with a more serious face. I found how I could be myself and serve God at the same time. Do you work with any gay youths in Trinidad?

Oh, yes, I’m sure we do, Martha said. But it’s very difficult for them to come forward. Pam Wilson came down to work with us a year ago. She raised our awareness of the needs of gay youth. That’s what I want to learn more about while I’m here. How can I do a better job reaching out to them?

That’s not why I came, Maggie said as she pushed her food around with a fork, staring intensely at her efforts.

"Why did you come?" Martha asked.

"I came to find out why people turn gay," she replied glumly.

"People don’t turn gay, anymore than people turn colors, although I wouldn’t mind being a little browner when I left this place," George said, lifting his arm against Beverly’s to contrast his pale, white skin.

"Yes they do, Maggie said with a sad sigh. My husband came here last year as a heterosexual. He came home a homosexual. I came here to find out why," she said, lifting her head to expose her tear-filled eyes.

George reached out and put his arm around her. I’m sorry, he whispered.

Clang. Clang. Clang. The sound made by Gail swinging the school bell across the lawn at the door to Ridings alerted the dining room participants that the first session of the Annual Workshop on Sexuality at Thornfield was about to begin. Tables quickly emptied as participants cleared their dishes, and grabbed their packets.

Chapter Three

Introduction of Staff

Classical music was playing softly on a boom box as the thirty-two participants filed into Ridings, with its cathedral ceiling and slowly rotating ceiling fans. At the end of the room were numerous full-length windows that provided a panoramic view of Lake Cazenovia, blue in its mid-July splendor through the tops of the hillside oak and pine trees.

Gail was filing through a box of cassettes near the tape player at the front of the room. On the wall above her hung a colorful panel from the AIDS Memorial Names Project Quilt. In Loving Memory of Michael, the three foot by six foot section closest to her head read. The denim lettering was surrounded by a sewn-on ragged teddy bear, a silver-colored plastic and rhinestone tiara, some sheet music, and a red handkerchief. 1952 - 1984 it read beneath his name, along with We Miss You! and a dozen or so handwritten names, including Mom, Dad, and Sis.

Having found the tape she was looking for, and having started its melodic introduction, Gail stood and asked the participants to sing along to I Love Myself. The words, she said, could be found in their packets.

Several people stood up and started riffling through their powder blue folders.

I love myself, the way I am, there’s nothing I need to change … the first verse began, sung loudly and enthusiastically by the staff, scattered around the room, and mumbled by the majority of participants who were torn by their desire to sing but also to watch Gail who was interpreting the song in sign language. A couple of people in the room were noticeably and predictably amused by the words. A couple of others seemed put off by the sentiment. But most of the new faces seemed to show an earnest desire to get right into the intended mood of the moment.

I love the world, the way it is, ‘cause I can clearly see, that all the things I judge are done by people just like me … we sang as Gail crossed her arms around herself to indicate love. The staff, which had seen her sign the song dozens of times did their best to remember the various signs for world, judge, and people, but mostly only remembered the easy signs for I, see, and me.

Thank you, everyone, said Alison as the song ended, and the staff shot looks at one another of warm satisfaction and affection. Thank you, Gail, she continued. That song, by Louise Hay, has become a tradition here. We’ll be starting each day with it. We hope you’ll join in each time.

Can I say something about the song, Alison? I asked.

Of course you can, she smiled back.

Jai Josefs wrote that song and Louise Hay introduced it to gay men with AIDS who came to meet with her every week back in the early 80s. I said, standing. She believed that self-love was an essential aspect of physical healing. We’ve been singing it here for years because we think that love of self, of others, and of the world are essential aspects of a healthy sexuality too.

Thank you, Brian. Well, good afternoon and welcome to the Annual Workshop on Sexuality at Thornfield. I’m Alison Deming, and on behalf of the entire staff, I want to say how happy we are to have you here, she said with a room-filling smile, her arms straight at her side, and in a voice that shook slightly with nervousness and emotion. "It’s going to be a wonderful week of growing, and learning, and stretching, she said extending her arms out to the ceiling and laughing in delight at the image. We’ve got a great staff, and a great program that we’re very proud of. You’ll be working with some of the top people in the field of sexuality education — Bill Stayton, Brian McNaught, Pam Wilson, Carol Dopp and our staff emeritus, Dr. Dick Cross. I’m going to have them all introduce themselves to you shortly, but before I do, I want to tell you a little bit about the program, and get you acquainted with this ‘holy’ place. Ah, yes, you had a question?" she said, gesturing to George.

When do we get to see the dirty movies? he asked with a sheepish grin.

Nervous laughter from some, and applause from a few others, filled the large, open room in which the participants sat in a three-quarter circle.

You like dirty movies, do you George? I said to the jolly man I had met on the walk across the lawn from the dining hall.

I was asking for Maggie, here, he said, putting his arm around the blushing new friend who sat at his side, to the laughing approval of the group.

Oh no you weren’t, she protested. "And you’re a man of the cloth!"

Ooooh, responded several in the crowd with mocking indignation, and a few clapped in delight.

I see no conflict there, Bill Stayton chimed in with a smirk.

You wouldn’t, replied Carol.

Well, haven’t we gotten off to a fun start? said Alison in a laughing tone that nevertheless regained control of the group. "In good time, George. But they aren’t dirty movies. They’re explicit. And they will provide us all with the impetus we need to go to our small group discussions and process our ‘feelings.’ But I’m getting way ahead of myself. Where was I?" she said, turning to me.

You’re about to tell them about the history of the program, I said.

Thank you, darling, she said. Brian’s my able helper. He keeps me on track.

"He keeps us all on track," Pam piped in.

Whether we like it or not, Carol added.

Excuse me, I said in feigned contempt, you’re interrupting Alison. Alison, you were saying?

"Thank you, Brian. The Annual Workshop on Sexuality started more than thirty years ago at Syracuse University when Dr. Sol Gordon, director of the Institute for Family Research and Education, decided to host an educational program for students in the field of sexuality education. I took on the job of coordinating the week-long summer training. Initially, we met on the Syracuse University campus, but we soon discovered that it was not conducive to the kind of work that we wanted to do, so I moved us out here to this beautiful facility owned and operated by the Episcopal Church. The name ‘Thornfield’ is that of an Episcopal bishop, as are the names of all of the buildings here — ‘Higley,’ where the staff stays, ‘Huntington,’ where you had your lunch, ‘Peabody,’ where you are all staying, and this building, the newest of them all, ‘Ridings,’ where we’ll be meeting every day.

Excuse me, Alison, but can I ask a question? asked Leona from across the circle.

Certainly.

"These chairs are very uncomfortable. Are we going to be in these chairs all week?"

An awkward silence filled the room for only a second.

"They can be uncomfortable, can’t they? Alison affirmed. No, we’ll be downstairs for most of the presentations and films, and the chairs downstairs are much more comfortable. But you’re always welcome to bring a pillow from your room to sit on, as long as you take it back. Please consider this whole complex yours to enjoy and to explore. There are acres and acres of grounds to walk. The lake is beautiful and a great spot for meditation or a nice swim. But if you do swim, please make sure you swim with a buddy. Don’t swim alone. And I don’t want to hear about anyone swimming nude," she said, turning to me with an expectant smile.

You notice, I pointed out on cue, "that she said she didn’t want to hear about it. Also, please don’t pee in the lake. It’s been specially treated with a chemical so that if you do pee, a big orange circle forms around you. I was down there earlier and there were some warm spots. Carol was that you?" I asked.

It was Maggie, George said. She took a swim before lunch.

"You’re awful," she said laughing, and swatting his arm with her hand.

You didn’t know about the chemical, Maggie, I said. But now you’re warned.

Yes, and getting back to our schedule, Alison said. Oh dear, where was I?

The history of Thornfield, I said.

She did that, Carol said.

But she didn’t talk about who’s come here, and how the program has developed, I said.

"Well, the program has developed from a week-long training that incorporated just a three-day SAR to a week-long SAR. Bill’s going to tell you about the SAR shortly. We used to have well-known people in the field come to the workshop and gave talks — people such as Mary Calderone, Michael Carrera, and Beverly Whipple — and then they’d leave. We changed that so that the staff is here all week. They stay and make themselves available to you all, so please take advantage of that."

Alison?

Pam?

Can I take just a minute to echo what you said? Pam asked. Don’t wait until the last minute to talk to one of us. If you’d like to meet with any of the staff, speak up, and set up a time. We’re all happy to do that. Also, can I ask that everyone please wear your name badges all week long, all day long, even at every meal.

And when you’re swimming, I said.

Very funny, Pam continued. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m awful with names, and I want to get to know yours.

Thank you, Pam. We’re getting ahead of ourselves a bit, but I do want to say that this place is a very special place to us, and I think it will be to all of you. We’ve had in these rooms and in these uncomfortable chairs, she said smiling to Leona, "hundreds of pilgrims like you from all over the world, and from every profession you can imagine, sitting, and listening, and sharing, and blooming before our very eyes. You see this wonderful arrangement of wildflowers we’ve assembled? They come from the fields … "

And private gardens, I said.

They do not! she continued, "from the fields and woods in the surrounding area, and they, in their unique beauty, represent to us the unique beauty of all of you. You are all very different from each other, but each is beautiful in her or his own way. You’ve come together as strangers this week, and will bloom together in the wonderful arrangement that this time allows. That’s why we call this ‘holy’ ground. It’s a special place where many people have connected with themselves, and others, in a very special way. I hope that is true for each and every one of you this week. Now, without further ado, let me introduce to you our wonderful staff, and then we’d like to get to know all of you better.

I’m going to ask the staff to come up one by one, and introduce themselves to you. And each has a question they’d like you to think about this week.

Alison, I said, why don’t we begin with you?

Right you are, she said appreciatively. Let’s start with me. I’m originally from this area, but I now live in a small community north of Phoenix in Arizona. I’m a semi-retired psychotherapist, and marriage and family counselor. A couple of years ago, I had the adventure of a lifetime when I fulfilled my dream of becoming a Peace Corps volunteer. I’d be happy to talk with any of you about that over lunch. What more to say? Well, that’s enough for now. Carol, will you please come up here and continue?

Carol rose from her chair, and took on a new seriousness as she walked to the head of the circle. She threw her shoulders back, and struck the pose of a teacher meeting her class on the first day.

Hi. My name is Carol Dopp. It’s great to have faces to go with the names. As most of you know from our correspondence over the past year, I’m the coordinator of the workshop. Like you, I was a participant at Thornfield many years ago. Being a slow learner, I came back the following year, she said, throwing her long blond hair to one side, to the appreciative laughter of the group. "Professionally, I’m a counselor and family life educator at a coeducational private school in the Washington, D.C. area. Personally, I’m the proud mother of a beautiful daughter, Kerrigan, and I brought lots of pictures to show you. The question that I have for you is about what’s keeping you from being the sexual person that you want to be. We’re going to have a whole week together to look at the roadblocks to sexual health. In thinking about it right now, what would be the one thing you might change about yourself so that you could celebrate your sexuality more fully? Thanks."

Thank you, Carol, Alison said as Carol relaxed her posture, smiled broadly, and returned to her seat. Pam, would you go next, please?

Dressed neatly in stylish black shorts and ironed white blouse, Pam walked to the spot previously held by Carol. "Hi everybody. I’m Pam Wilson, and it’s great to be with all of you for what I know you will find to be a truly amazing week. I’ve been coming to Thornfield for 10 years, and it’s something I look forward to all year long. I’m a social worker by training. I got my masters in social work from Catholic University of America. Over the past twenty-five years, I’ve worked mostly as a sexuality educator and diversity trainer. Brian and I work together at different corporations talking about sexual orientation. My biggest chunk of work today is as head of training for an organization working with low income fathers to get them reinvested in their families. I’ve also been busy writing a sexuality