Chapter 24 – Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

As graduation approached, my mother, Michael, and my unborn sister were planning their move to Columbus, Ohio. They wanted to be in a college town. It was not lost on me that Columbus was only a half hour from Denison. The cord that bound me and my mother had never been cut. I doubted it ever would be.

I was stunned when the faculty nominated me to speak at our graduation ceremony. I could only assume Michael had engineered it, so I asked him about it.

"I nominated you, but that's all. In my nomination, I explained that you more than any other student exemplified the resilience necessary to navigate high school and emerge better and whole upon graduation. Enough other people agreed that you now have a platform. Use it bravely and wisely."

I worked furiously and what I would say. Steve helped me a lot, pulling me back when I was too close to the edge and pushing my forward when I was too timid.

Steve and I had spent the past two months in a bit of a rope a dope. Some weeks, it was like it had been. Steve couldn't get enough of me, and we snuck out together whenever we could. We were together, emotionally and physically, like that day in the clearing when we cleared the air.

Other weeks, Steve was aloof and distant. Even when we were together, he was elsewhere.

I knew he was struggling, straddling the now and the future. I also knew there was nothing I could do about it. I could not change what I could not change.

I was wearying of the tergiversations. Like I said, I wanted to be someone's someone. Increasingly, I knew I would never be that for him.

The summer could be tell-tale. My mother and Michael were leaving as soon as Michael completed his year. I could go with them or stay in Paris with the Lustigs (Henry had agreed I could live with them and work at his plant, provided Steve and I abided by the rules). I put it to Steve, and he was thinking about it. I knew he enjoyed spending time with me. We learned a lot from each other, and our conversations were beyond the normal conversations of 18 year old boys.

I also knew my presence challenged who he thought he was or would be. Like I said, I could see the struggle in his eyes as he counter-balanced today and tomorrow.

My graduation speech was coming together. I entitled it "The Climb." I took my inspiration from Evans' story of the hole and from William Goldman's "The Princess Bride," namely Vizzini's commentary as Inigo ascended the cliffs.

On May 24, 1986, I delivered my speech in an anxious voice. I wore a black gown and hat. I wore two ear rings. I wore eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick.

To summit the mountain. That's our goal. Today, tomorrow, always. We climb, yearning to reach the top.

For some, it is easier than it is for others. No one starts at the same spot. If you're poor, you start lower. If you're a woman, you start lower. If you're a minority, you start lower. If you're gay, you start lower. No matter where you start, you must keep climbing.

There are natural obstacles. If you're not intellectually talented, it's going to take you longer. If you're not athletically talented, it's going to take you longer. If you're not physically attractive, it's going to take you longer. If you're not whatever it is that society wants you to be, it's going to take you longer. But, no matter how many natural obstacles litter your path, you must keep climbing.

There are unnatural obstacles. Some are external. The biases of others, the bullying by others, the ignorance of others, the prejudices of others, the suicide of your father. All will make the path steeper. But, no matter how steep the path gets, you must keep climbing.

Some are internal. If you are a boy and you play with Barbies, like to wear makeup, and pierce your ears, you'll make your path steeper. If you're challenging or defiant, you'll make your path steeper. If you buck strictures or refuse to conform, you'll make your path steeper. But, no matter how steep your path, you must keep climbing.

No matter where each of us started or how steep our path, we are here because we all started and kept climbing. You must keep climbing.

As we go forward, I have two hopes for all of us. First, I hope that, when we get the chance, we make the climb for others as short and as smooth as we can. Remove obstacles, don't add to them. Flatten the incline, don't steepen it. Clear a path as you climb, so the climb is easier for those who follow, yearning to reach the top.

Second, I hope that each of us keeps climbing, no matter what obstacles are in our path or how steep the path becomes. We will falter and we will fall. Some of us will fall all the way back to the bottom. When we do, we have to get up and start climbing all over again.

No matter what, you must keep climbing. It's the only way to reach the top, and each and every one of us deserves and needs to reach the top, to summit the mountain, to breathe the thin air of achievement.

So, please keep climbing. Whatever you do, whatever comes your way, keep climbing.

Thank you.

I walked off the stage into my mother's waiting arms. I knew I'd be emotional when I was finished, as, on some level, I was talking about my father. He had stopped climbing.

But I was also talking about my mother. Her path had been more littered and steep than it should have been, but she had kept climbing. And, she had kept me climbing, no matter what obstacles life or I had placed in my way. We both kept climbing.

*****

After the ceremony, we found ourselves in a fraught circle. Ellen, Henry, and Steve were with me, Michael, and my mother (and, of course, my unborn sister). Steve crushed me in an embrace, told me how awesome my speech had been, and told me he wanted to kiss me hard on the mouth. I whispered "do it," and he said he couldn't in front of his mother. Ellen and Henry echoed Steve's sentiment, at least about the speech.

Steve surprised us all. "I want to be with Eric. So, we can either all go out to dinner together, or Eric and I can go alone."

The adults were stunned into silence. Ellen, who didn't know what the rest of us knew, suggested we all go together. "It's probably the last time we'll see the Kamler's."

My mother visibly blanched. I saw Michael squeeze her hand. Henry waded in.

"Ellen, that sounds lovely. But, I think maybe we should let the boys have this day. It's their graduation, after all." Before anyone could disagree, Henry pulled bills out of his wallet, handed them to Steve, and told us to have a wonderful time on him.

I kissed my mother good-bye and told her I loved her and would see her the following day. Lori was having a graduation party, and all attendees were required to spend the night.

"I love you, too, Eric. Very much. Keep climbing."