Firstly, I want to encourage you, dear reader, to take a few minutes today to memorialize (those which you can recall) the men who've advocated for you in the past. Perhaps it was a peer or someone older / wiser, but in lieu of dismissing / looking down on you, they did the opposite.
When I was a junior at Mississippi State ('92-'93), I once again (third year) lived within the dormitory (Evans Hall) with a potluck roommate. This man was at least ten years my senior, having served in the military - active duty - for a number of years. Steve was immediately identifiable as cold hearted and jaded. He seemingly felt slighted by most everyone around him (including God). And above all else, he loathed Christianity. Hence, he was friendless and estranged overall from his devout family. If I could use one modern-day phrase to describe this man, it would be slow burn.
It was via this matchup that I truly learned to lay low around another man (outside of my immediate family) for Steve made me feel anxious whilst in his presence, considering his consistently dark moods.
Across the suite from our room was another older student, and this man too was honorably discharged active-duty military. I recall too that throughout the majority of that year, he was without a roommate. Potluck roommate, Steve, and this about-the-same-age man (we'll call him Frank) were friendly, and I just always assumed it was due to their shared military resumes.
The remaining two suite dorm rooms were occupied by guys that refused to even be polite. Inevitably, I'd run into them within the bathroom / shower at the end of the hall, but I'd might as well have been invisible. Hence, I reflected / projected just as much indifference in response.
Considering just how diminutive / odd-man-out I found myself feeling, I remember vividly how Frank chose to engage with me during the sporadic times we'd encounter each other there within that soulless, bunker-like building.
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A huge paradigm shift has occurred within my vocational circumstance. This shift has been anticipated for years, and as such, throughout the majority of 2023, much behind-the-scenes work (thanks be to God for my CPA wife) has been done to see it through. Now that it's accomplished, and various players (family members) have been "reassigned" accordingly as a result, I'm now finding myself struggling to "swim free".
And I know that's due to how blithely transactional this shift has been framed as. To the point that it's beginning to make me question my own emotional vitals.
For this is my now upended reality in contrast to the last ten years.
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When I was in middle school ('86-'88), I took Shotokan karate classes two days a week at a northeast Jackson aerobics studio (which my mom happened to be employed at). My Sensei, Mr. Terry Vandeventer, advocated for me like nobody's business, and I loved that (in spite of me feeling undeserving). Throughout those few years, I tended to be one of the oldest boys in his class, yet I was the least confident in my physical self / ability.
Mr. Vandeventer's class consisted of an hour on Tuesday afternoons (4 PM - 5 PM) practicing technique / katas, and an hour on Thursday afternoons sparring (against each other). I privately loathed sparring, though I realized that I was the exception out of the other boys within our class.
What eventually motivated me to quit the class was a neighbor boy (he lived behind us) of mine who also decided to join in the karate fun. This punk had always been extremely intimidating to young Rob, and he therefore used that intimidation to his advantage.
One Thursday, I was paired up with this kid, and he wailed on me throughout our 10-minute sparring match. It was humiliating and profoundly stigmatizing. As a result, within just a few weeks, I hung up my Gei for good, much to the chagrin of Mr. Vandeventer.
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I remember discovering that Frank was a runner by listening in on an exchange between he and Steve. This surprised me for two reasons. Firstly, we were full-time college students (who makes time to exercise - particularly running - in college?*), and secondly, Frank was far more muscular than what I'd considered at the time to be an ideal "runner's build".
Now, let me expound on Frank's physicality. Being around the age of 30, this stallion of a man had the body of an Army Ranger. In fact, though I wasn't privy to what an Army Ranger was at the time, it wasn't hard for me to imagine him being within some sort of elite military unit. I'd never seen a man with so little body fat combined with such muscular bulk. That combined with his incredibly handsome face (he sported a dapper mustache that fit perfectly therein) made him almost impossible to not envy / admire to some degree.
Frank wasn't one to see and be seen, but when he was, I couldn't help but take notice. Especially when he was semi-nude (community bathroom). Too, he was usually wearing a thin gold necklace. That too looked great on him, fitting perfectly into his very uniquely masculine physique.
Lastly, if I remember correctly, Frank had no shortage of body hair, particularly on his chest and stomach. As such, it's location / thickness only served to amplify his build / enhance his looks.
*The Sanderson Center had yet to be constructed on MSU's campus.
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This past Friday afternoon (yesterday), I yet again head butted against my spontaneously reactionary familial rival (who's 19-years my senior). As such, I felt deeply maligned to even consider moving out from this "invisibly cage-like" corner. From there, I cautiously reacted by looping in my closest ally. And it's important to know that by deeply maligned, I'm referring to behavior / tone / beliefs that were completely off the chart from the customary pettiness.
I'm still shaken. All the while attempting to keep myself calm enough to remember that I truly did nothing wrong via acting the part of my new ownership position.
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The very last day I attended Mr. Terry Vandeventer's Shotokan karate class happened to fall on a Thursday (sparring day). It was during this class that our respected Sensei shockingly volunteered himself to spar with neighbor punk. It was then, right before everyone's eyes, that he put a vengeful ass whooping on this kid.
For every slick move neighbor punk would attempt, Mr. Vandeventer would counter by barreling through. As such, it was his lightening quick reflexes and almost psychic-like reflexive instinct that were no match for neighbor punk.
For we all were witnessing a high-level black belt up against a cocky peon.
Unfortunately, although I greatly appreciated this not-so-subtle theatrics, it wasn't enough to convince me to stay. For neighbor punk's audacity and confidence were far too overwhelming for Rob. It was as if there literally wasn't enough oxygen in the room for me to breathe with when he was present.
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Frank always spoke to me respectfully when I ran into him there within the dorm suite. At times even, I vividly remember him seeming genuinely happy to encounter me. As such, I felt as if he could sense how (yet again) stigmatized I felt there amongst his larger-than-college-life physical self. In fact, I would go so far as to say that he may very well have taken my homosexual attraction towards him into consideration, yet despite this, worked that much harder to make me as comfortable as he could.
This was the very first one-on-one private, personal adult male encounter (Rob too as an ALMOST adult) where I felt as if I either wasn't ignored, shunned, or ridiculed outright. It was indeed significant.
Hence, this only amplified the beauty - in my eyes - of this glorious man. This man whose minute gestures made such a lasting impact on me during one of the most trying living situations that I'd encountered up to that point.
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What's the lesson here?
Terry Vandeventer and Frank continue to support / validate me. Their memory shines light during the most frustrating of times (now).
There's no doubt in my mind that I will experience blue ocean eventually. For I will someday be granted the strength to leave behind this gosh awful present-day corner behind forever. Until then, I will relish these memorials from my past.
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