Mike was obviously gay, but I didn’t understand what that was at the time. In later years, I’d probably notice right away. But back then, he just seemed different. We didn’t put kids into categories. You could say he was wired differently. Thinking about it now, it’s more of a cruel joke that God plays on a child. They have to figure it out for themselves. Or until they meet someone who explains it to them in a way they can truly understand. An epiphany of sorts…brought about by any number of physical catalysts. And once you know, you know…it’s like, oh, so that’s what I wanted; this is what I was attracted to all along, and wasn’t sure until I was sure. Then you accept who you were meant to be in the grand scheme of life. In your heart, knowing, but not yet showing to the world.

I wonder if it’s the same for every person who discovers their true self. There was a boy, thirteen, from the next state over when I was growing up. He killed three people in his neighborhood…a mother and daughter, and a single woman a few blocks over. Did he wake up one day, realizing that he was placed on this earth to kill? Were there any telltale signs that this was his true nature? Did his mother sense it? The inherent evil? Did his dad have a clue? What if we go through life and never know why we’re here? I’m sure Mike found out about love much the same way I did, discovering a first kiss and hearing about what to do, where to touch, and so on. Seems there’s no clear path, but we get to who we are… eventually.

I wasn’t wired like Mike. People are strange, as the song goes. The same beings but different circuitry. As far back as I can remember, I liked women. Going to the movies with my grandparents was a big deal. Watching James Bond kissing the girl….“Why does he kiss her like that, Grandpa?” whispering in the dark. “It’s just something grownups do,” he whispers back as if I’m supposed to understand. I remember a party we went to at school, and Mike was in the corner kissing a girl. He looked like he was interested. Seems to know what he was doing. Me? I hadn’t kissed a girl at that point. To be honest, I felt a bit awkward…late bloomer.

My grandparents lived in the same house as the rest of my family. They were always kissing and dancing. I always watched my grandfather. He was like a missing puzzle piece of my father’s scattered personality. Not distant. Always available, always present. He was never a soldier and suffered any kind of trauma like my dad…none that I knew of. My grandmother said later in life, after he died, that he was always like that. Frantic romantic, charming, attentive. Where does that come from? Certainly not from movies? It’s inside the body…like blood.

But Mike tried his best to fit in and dated girls; I don’t think anyone knew for sure. We hung around with him, and no one seemed to care. That is a time of youth that I miss…no judgment. Maybe his mom knew? Not his dad, though. His dad was the football coach. A real man’s man if there is such a thing. Mike played linebacker and was pretty good at it. I was just okay at it, but the girls paid close attention to the athletes. Mike’s father worked for Raytheon when he wasn’t coaching. An engineer. Very smart but didn’t lord it over people. Actually, he had a good personality, especially after a few drinks. Whenever they came over for those inevitable neighborhood cookouts, my dad and he would have long conversations. My dad wasn’t college-educated, but he read constantly. Another one of his escape mechanisms. Strange how we’re continuously trying to find ourselves and also escape from ourselves. Something that goes on our whole lives.

Later in life, I discerned people more intensely. Still, some lead double lives so fiercely that you never can tell for sure where they’re coming from. Something is always hiding… secret lives no one knows about. Shortly before I left home, I was contemplating where I would go. One day, I hitchhiked a ride to Main Street, and this guy picked me up. I don’t remember his name, but I was young and stupid and really didn’t know predator nature. He asked me a lot of questions and seemed nice but not scary. He said that he was going to get a bite to eat and asked me to join him. I wasn’t concerned and agreed.

We sat in a booth, and he kept asking more questions… in retrospect, probing. I basically revealed my unhappiness and my plan to leave home…I wanted to see the world. There, he found his inroad. As we ate, he told me about this magical island paradise with endless beaches and plenty of opportunities to work and start a new life. Rio de Janeiro. It sounded unbelievable the way he described it. Like one of those James Bond movies. Pure adventure. At sixteen, everything sounds amazing. Now think about how the vulnerable can be talked into things. Attraction to a place based on a description from someone who may have ulterior motives.

After eating, I told him I’d walk the rest of the way to town. He noticed my belt buckle and complimented me on it, and I felt a bit uncomfortable under his gaze. “Here’s my number. I’m leaving at eight am. If you let me know by the end of the day, I’ll get you a ticket, and you can join me.” He said with a smile. I put the card in my pocket and headed into town. When you’re sixteen, you don’t know shit, and I actually thought about going. Thank God I didn’t. I could have ended up in any number of destructive scenarios.

But I’m off track now… After high school, Mike chose a college in California. I believe that was where he could live as he wished. I found out last year that he died of cancer. His older brother was shot in a robbery. His other brother is in jail. His younger brother is a drug addict, his sister died of cancer as well, and his father died of Alzheimer’s. His mother is not doing so well. She calls my mom every so often, and they struggle through conversations. Life plays cruel jokes on all of us. It seems we’re forever trying to find ourselves. Forever trying to escape

TM DiSarro
©2026 TM DiSarro/ MindScapes Publishing

From: ILLUMICAT

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