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Okay community, here's Chapter Thirty-Three!
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Chapter 33
Saturday, February 14
Roooaarrr!
Roaaar! Raaarrrrrrrr! The motorcycles got everyone’s attention. It was a
great way to start a parade.
Dykes
on Bikes blasted into Union Square ahead of their pickup. Wyatt’s dad drove, and,
with Lincoln hats tall on their heads, Wyatt, Martin, Becca, Mackenzie, and
Jonathon rode in the back. Mackenzie had changed into a white gi, and Jonathon into a red polo shirt.
Wyatt and Martin handed
over Lincoln hats to a cluster of three older women who waved and asked for
them.
When they’d pulled
out the broken arbor, Betty had overheard Wyatt ask his dad if, without making
Mackenzie pay for it, they could just keep giving out the hats for free—everyone
was so excited to get them. She’d called it “very clever promotional marketing.”
Turned out she worked in PR. Wyatt’s dad gave his okay.
“You’re welcome!”
Wyatt waved at the women, who thanked them and giggled at how they looked in
the stovepipe hats.
At
least one hundred soldiers from earlier were marching behind them in Lincoln
hats. As they passed Sandee’s Liquor and Candy Mart, the square opened up
before them. It was less than an hour and a half later, but now it was packed, and
more people were crossing down from where traffic had been diverted onto Second
Street. Usually they said two thousand people attended Lincolnville’s annual
parade, but Wyatt thought this seemed double last year’s crowd.
Amid
all the craziness, he had his first chance to talk to Martin. “I thought you
left.”
Martin
shook his head. “We didn’t know about Von Lawson’s plan. But the mayor told
everyone the parade wasn’t happening, and John Stevens’s producer wouldn’t
listen to my emails or get on the phone. But I knew we had to document this with
the right people. So we drove down to San Francisco. Mom and I talked to John
himself, convinced him, and got his crew to drive back with us.”
“But,
you didn’t even call. Or answer my text!”
“Mom
doesn’t let me have my phone on when I’m driving. And . . . I didn’t want to
tell you, in case it didn’t work out. Even when they agreed to come, we weren’t
sure we’d make it in time.” Martin lowered his head. “I got my first speeding
ticket.”
He didn’t leave. He did all of it—even
drove over the speed limit—for me.
Behind them, drums
and cowbells started up. Ba ba ba Bap—Bap
Bap Bap—Ba ba BOP! Ba ba ba Bap—Bap Bap Bap—Ba ba BAHH!
The
rhythm got people cheering.
“I’m really glad
you’re here,” Wyatt shouted over the noise.
“Me, too,” Martin
said, then winked at Wyatt. “Nice shirt, by the way.”
Wyatt felt this
crazy rush, and he couldn’t even try to return the wink. He just shouted,
“You’re not getting it back.”
Martin laughed,
and Wyatt joined in.
Wyatt’s dad made
the turn onto Lincoln Boulevard. They’d moved a section of the stage next to
the road, and Wyatt’s mom stood on it with her clipboard and microphone. As
they rolled past, she ad-libbed the new parade addition: “Civil War–reenactment
soldiers who support equality!”
Wyatt’s eye caught
a movement by the library door. It was Mr. Clifton, closing the big entry door,
shutting himself inside.
Wyatt just felt
sad for him as they rolled forward.
His mom’s voice
bounced off the library, amplified on speakers they’d set up all around Union
Square.
“The Asian Pacific
Islander Women’s Color Guard!”
“The Eugene County
African American Equality and Justice Society!”
Wyatt spotted Mr.
Guzman and his girlfriend with the pink hair in the crowd. Mr. Guzman gave
Wyatt a thumbs-up. Wyatt waved back. He was so glad his old teacher got to see
this. All of this.
Wyatt’s mom and
the parade behind them kept going as they handed out Lincoln hats.
“The Corvallis Valley
High School Gay-Straight Alliance!”
“The Society for
Progressive Islam, Salem Chapter!”
In the front row
of spectators, Rhonda looked out from behind her video camera and blew them a
kiss. Martin grinned at his mom and Frisbeed her a hat. She snagged it midair.
“The Lake Medford
Fire Department!”
“Northwest Disability
Rights!”
Jonah from Pies
and Pool and his girlfriend ran up to get two hats from Wyatt. Jonah insisted
on shaking Wyatt’s hand. “Great job, man. Great job!” he shouted over the
cheers.
Dykes on Bikes and
their pickup led the parade past the Log Cabin. The buses were gone, and they kept
passing out hats to the people five and seven deep on the sidewalks and
parkway. The stores were open along Fifth and Johnson streets, busy with
customers. Mr. Woo even waved to them, all friendly, as people browsed the
costumes on his outdoor racks and talked about which photo packages they should
get.
The parade
finished just a block from their B and B. Wyatt’s dad stopped the truck and
leaned out the window as they all jumped down. “You kids go catch the rest of
the parade.”
“I’ve got to find
the dojo.” Mackenzie waved bye as she headed up Sixth Street to where the
parade groups were lined up on Hayes.
Wyatt checked with
his dad. “You sure?”
“Go!” His dad
chuckled. “I have a lot of cooking to do. Have fun!”
“Thanks!” Wyatt
ran up Grant Street, Martin at his side. In three blocks, they made a right,
and there were even more people in Union Square now. Wyatt’s mom kept
announcing the entries:
“The Albany Art
Museum’s Jewish Film Festival!”
“The Multnomah
County Women’s Rights Project!”
Wyatt took
Martin’s hand, partly to not lose him, and partly because he just wanted to. And
he could!
It looked like
everyone had shown. Forty-one parade entries in all. Forty-three, with Mackenzie’s
dojo and the soldiers. It was a record, and twelve more than had signed up to
march in the old version of the parade.
“The Pacific
School for the Deaf!”
“Gresham’s Sci-Fi,
Anime, and Comic Con!”
Making their way through
to the stage where Wyatt’s mom was, they passed a young guy with curled fingers
walking with crutches on his arms. He was all happy, chatting with a Latina
girl with a Mohawk. For the first time, Wyatt really looked at the crowd. Under
the Lincoln hats sprinkled everywhere, they were a mix of farmers and city
folk, students from Oregon State and the University of Oregon, old people and
kids, disabled and abled, straight and Gay, and probably Bi and Trans, too.
They were Black and White and Asian and every color—and everyone was in great
spirits, celebrating equality.
Lincoln’s
idea. King’s idea. And, for this parade, Wyatt’s idea, too!
“From
Ashland, the Oregon Theater Festival Players!”
“Parents, Friends,
and Families of Lesbians and Gays, PFLAG Philomath!”
They’d just broken
through to Lincoln Boulevard when Wyatt’s mom announced, “The Corvallis
Yoshukai Karate and Martial Arts Center!”
Wyatt cheered for
Mackenzie, Martin at his side. Mackenzie and twenty-five other teens and kids
whipped their nunchucks through the air in perfect unison with a black belt
counting out in Japanese, “Ich, ni, sahn!”
Mackenzie grinned at Wyatt and Martin as she marched past, nunchucks flying.
The parade kept coming.
“Western Oregon Atheists!”
“The
Gay Veterans Association, Pacific Northwest Chapter!”
Then
Wyatt’s mom announced, “And a last-minute addition: please welcome our very own
mayor, Kelly Rails, and her husband, high school coach and country music star
Bryan Rails!”
Wyatt
dropped Martin’s hand. The people around them applauded Jonathon’s parents
sitting on the trunk of Coach Rails’s open convertible. Principal Jackson was
driving, and Mayor Rails, dressed in jeans and a USA flag T-shirt, waved to
everyone like she was the Queen of America.
Martin
snorted and leaned into Wyatt’s ear. “Just watch. She’ll be all over the news
as a ‘champion of equality.’”
Wyatt
scowled. “She’s just doing it because it’s popular, and she’s probably figured
out a way to make money, or get reelected, because of it.”
“It’s
a good thing, Wyatt. Doesn’t matter why she’s doing it.” Martin’s hand swept
the parade and crowd around them. “You’ve already changed this part of the
world.”
Martin
was right. Wyatt wasn’t going to let anyone ruin this.
Wyatt’s
mom announced the final parade entry, now number forty-four. “The First Metropolitan
Church of Portland’s gospel choir!”
All
fifty choir members, in their gold-and-red robes, tambourines shaking and arms
raised, started singing, “Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, I’m
free at last. . . .”
Their
voices rose up and filled the square, and Wyatt’s chest swelled with the words.
Martin
was smiling at him. “We did it, didn’t we?”
His
lips were beautiful.
He
was beautiful.
“Hey,
it’s Valentine’s Day!” Wyatt said.
“Is
it?” The light sparkled in Martin’s eyes. He knew, all right.
“And
. . . I’m going to kiss you for you,
you know?” Wyatt told him.
“Yeah.
I know,” Martin said, moving in toward him. “Me, too.”
And
with thousands of people around them, and the singing lifting them all, Wyatt
leaned in to touch his lips to Martin’s. Wyatt could feel Martin’s biceps graze
the sides of his Super G T-shirt as
they pulled each other close. Wyatt kissed him, and Martin kissed him back. He
tasted like spice . . . and cinnamon.
Free at last.
How long can I make this kiss last?
A
sigh escaped Wyatt, and it was the big finale. No birds, or chipmunks, or
little people. But music, inside as well as out.
And
goose bumps.
And
this feeling in Wyatt’s chest. His throat. His lips.
Glowing.
He was glowing.
He
was standing there, in front of the whole world, and he was kissing Martin.
His
first real kiss.
And
Wyatt was, finally, himself.
Everyone
around them was singing, and Wyatt pulled back to look at Martin. Friends, and more. Much more.
And in that
instant, Wyatt knew. He didn’t have to go anywhere else to be himself. He’d found
it right there. Elysium.
Ninth grade had
been a war. And he’d won.
From his heart,
Wyatt started singing along. Martin joined in, and their fingers and voices
wove together and rose with the others to the sky. “Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, I am free. At. Last!”
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Epilogue
National Survey Results for the Week Ending
Saturday, June 27
Von Lawson Productions
Sample: 1,000 US citizens,
statistically randomized
Results:
Do you think
Abraham Lincoln was romantically involved with Joshua Speed?
No: 47% (unchanged for the last 5 weeks)
Yes: 47% (unchanged for the last 5 weeks)
Undecided: 6% (unchanged
for the last 5 weeks)
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“Two Lovers”
Music by Irving Gordon
New Lyrics by Martin Sykes
For Wyatt
Two
lovers on their way,
One
wore blue and one wore gray
No
one knew that they were Gay
All
on a beautiful morning
War
was hell, they had their share
One
felt hope and one, despair
Cannonballs
tore through the air
All
on a beautiful morning
War was hell, they
made it through
Didn’t care if the whole world knew
A kiss between gray and blue
All on a beautiful mo-r-ning!
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Queer as a Five-Dollar Bill Blog
Queer as a Five-Dollar Bill
Blog Post: Sunday, June 6, 10:32 a.m.
Lincoln’s Rainbow
Bed
& Breakfast
Invites
you to celebrate LGBTQ Pride with us
in
beautiful Lincolnville, Oregon!
with
Civil
War–Era Suppers with Gregory
Tours
with Mackenzie
Music
with Martin
Hikes
with Wyatt
Book early—we have only
a handful of room nights still available!
And if you fall in love with our town like
we have,
Elizabeth Yarrow Real Estate can help you find a place to call home.
Elizabeth Yarrow Real Estate can help you find a place to call home.
If you’re in town the weekend of
June 28, the Lincolnville Chamber of Commerce and the Straight for Equality:
Rails for Governor campaign will be sponsoring a block party for local
businesses, the community, and visiting friends opposite the Log Cabin on
Johnson and Fifth. The chamber has distributed Gay Pride Rainbow Flag stickers,
which you’ll see in nearly all of the storefronts in town.
And that Sunday, the anniversary of
the Stonewall Riots, Nora Roberts (our new town librarian) is hosting a party
installing Joshua Fry Speed: Lincoln’s
Most Intimate Friend on permanent display in the Lincolnville Public
Library. You’ll have to ask first, and put on white gloves to touch it, since
it’s now a Reference: Special Collections book, but anybody who wants to can
read it.
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Endnotes for Epilogue
The “Two Brothers”
Civil War song that Martin wrote new lyrics for is credited to Irving Gordon. A
version with the original lyrics is included in Smithsonian Folkways’ Songs of the Civil War album here: http://www.folkways.si.edu/songs-of-the-civil-war/american-folk-historical-song/music/album/smithsonian.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
Wyatt,
Martin, Mackenzie, and Jonathon are fictional characters, but the evidence that
convinces Wyatt that Abraham Lincoln loved Joshua Fry Speed is part of American
history, and every historical quote used in this story is true. (And every
direct quote by Abraham Lincoln is in bold.
Check out the Endnotes section that follows each chapter.)
While
historians will continue to argue over whether Lincoln was Gay, or Bi, or
straight, each one of us can read the letters, look at the evidence, and make
our own decision.
To
me, it’s very clear that Abraham and Joshua were in love. Had I known, when I
was growing up, that Abraham Lincoln loved another guy, it would have
completely changed how I felt about myself—and maybe made my coming out as a
Gay young man easier.
I
hope my fictional story of Wyatt and his friends, and the true story of Abraham
Lincoln and Joshua Fry Speed, will inspire you to be authentic, too!
This
is my debut book, and I’d love to hear what you think. You can write me at authorleewind (at) gmail (dot) com, leave a comment on this blog post, or reach out on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram. You’ll find all the links at
my website: www.leewind.org.
And
now you have the power—to share this secret from history, and to help make this
book a success. If you’re willing, I’d love a review of Queer as a Five-Dollar Bill wherever you read reviews. Reviews, and
word of mouth, can make all the difference. So thank you. And please know that,
for me, your having read this book means the world.
The
light in me recognizes and acknowledges the light in you,
Lee
Los
Angeles, California
