The Legend, The Myth, The Man: For My Father

On February 9th, 2015, my beloved father passed away unexpectedly. He was a deeply spiritual person whose awesome, incomparable influence is perhaps most responsible for my own spiritual convictions, as illustrated in my most recent post to this blog, over four months ago. I am not yet ready to put together and present the comprehensive tribute to my father that he so thoroughly deserves, nor to detail how this event has reshaped the rest of my life. And so instead I offer for all of your reading the Words of Remembrance that I spoke at his funeral on February 17th, 2015. I believe he helped me to write these words. I KNOW he helped me to speak them. 

And so I say to him, here and now, "I Thank You" and "I Love You".

To Jennifer and I, he was “Dad”. To all of you he was “Bob”, “Bobby”, “Uncle Bobby”, “Uncle Bob”, and “R.W.”. But despite all of the different hats he wore, we all knew the same man. Whether he had nothing or had it all, whether he was a child or an adult, whether before or after fatherhood changed his life. At every age and in every context, we all knew the same towering, iconic figure who had the strength of a legend, the integrity of a hero, and the heart of an angel.

Our Dad’s larger-than-life stature was genuine, but he was, like one of his heroes, John Wayne, truly a gentle giant. Underneath his powerful presence and brilliant wit was the precocious child who evolved without growing old. He never mellowed with age, and never lost the twinkle in his eyes that fueled a self-described “insatiable appetite for knowledge”. He devoured information from books, TV, and the internet, storing it in an extraordinary brain that never, ever lost its edge.

To everyone who knew him, our Dad was a living legend. But our Dad was also a profoundly sensitive human being. He always looked up with reverence to his sisters, Barbara and Diane, and viewed all of their children, and our Mother’s nieces and nephews, as his second children. He was a man of deep faith who neither doubted nor downplayed the role that angels played in guiding and protecting he and his loved ones. Chief among these guardian angels was my father’s father, Robert E. Jeffrey, whose name he gave me the honor of carrying. Jennifer and I were not fortunate enough to know our grandfather in life, but we grew up with his portrait watching over us everywhere we lived. And his presence was ever felt through our father’s love of him, and our father’s incurable sadness that his father passed away before his children were born. Jennifer and I now know that sadness, too. But we take our greatest comfort in knowing our Dad is now among the many angels who watched over him, including his Dad.

Dad provided counsel to countless family, friends, and colleagues, and was a natural mentor to the many, many people who looked up to him at every age and facet of life. He was the least judgmental man I have ever known, living by his own, defining motto: “I deal them in before I deal them out.” He believed in equality above all other principles, and my sister and I are blessed to have had a father who was truly and utterly devoid of prejudice. He loved nothing more than sharing happiness with others. He was an individual of boundless generosity who never felt more pride than when someone told him how comfortable they felt around him. Somehow our Dad was always surprised by how truly loved he was. But as with everything else in his life, he earned it. He earned people’s admiration. He earned people’s respect. And he earned his truly iconic reputation.

Our Dad was at his happiest when with Jennifer and I and our Mom, his soul mate and wife of 42 years. Our mother was his muse, the source of his strength, and the love of his life. Theirs is a love story that goes on eternally as he and our Mom continue to get us through this now. Our Dad raised Jennifer and I to only ever be ourselves, and provided unending support and encouragement to follow our dreams. We always felt loved and accepted, because we were.

Jennifer and our Mom and I have felt our Dad’s presence wrapped around us since the the day his journey here ended. And so on behalf of all four of us, I offer my condolences to all of you who loved him, for there are so very many people in this room for whom the loss is no less devastating than it is to us. I know our father is honored and amazed by not only the love and celebration of life, but by the wave of compassion and breathtaking generosity of so many people bringing comfort to our mother and Jennifer and I. We are overcome with gratitude to all of you, and so is our Dad.

I Honestly Know Me: An Evaluation Of An Evaluation

"You are very likely an Aspie."

This is a most unusual post. It does not deal with subject matter I normally talk about on this blog, or with anyone outside of my partner, my doctor, and my immediate family. This is my first post about my firm belief that I am an Aspergian (one with Asperger's Syndrome), and the devastating consequences that have resulted from my failing to realize this until well into my thirties. I can only imagine how many millions of people are struggling in their lives, in ways they can neither understand nor express, because they have no idea that they, too, are on the autistic spectrum. This first post is about the role that cultural stereotypes and my own constructed identity have played in making a diagnosis more difficult than I had expected. If not for the discovery of countless personal testimonials in books or online, I might still doubt myself about who I am and what it is that I am dealing with. Based on incredible feedback generated by past posts, I suspect many people out there are facing the same exact challenges that I am, and for the same exact reasons. And I hope that sharing my experiences may be beneficial to any of them who read this.

Part 1: August 29th, 2013

For the month leading up to the appointment, I was under the impression I would be undergoing a daylong series of neurological tests to determine if I, my family, and my referring physician were correct in the assumption that I have Asperger's Syndrome. I was so wrought with anxiety about what these tests would entail and how I would fare under them that I could not sleep for the two nights prior to what turned out to be a forty minute interview.

The appointment began at 8:30 AM. The neurologist came out to the waiting room to call me into an office where the evaluation began with a question along the lines of "so what brings you here today?". The neurologist was polite, but not especially friendly, with voice and body language suggesting to me that the neurologist felt I did not belong there and that this was a pointless exercise. Or, perhaps, that said neurologist was extremely tired. I told the neurologist about my family's encouragement in my being tested and my having many traits since childhood (as corroborated by relatives and many videotapes) up to the present. I told the neurologist that I have a family history of autism as well as bipolar disorder. I noted that while I had a cursory knowledge of Asperger's, I avoided researching too much so as not to impact my evaluation. I was asked a series of questions while the neurologist looked at a computer screen and typed.

I had begun the interview by stating that it was my sister who approached me about Asperger’s Syndrome after viewing Temple Grandin's TED Talk and being reminded the whole time of me. I indicated that growing up in a protective bubble with my parents and sister in a happy but insulated childhood allowed me to feel more comfortable expressing myself but meant that it took me much longer to pick up on how people in the world outside of my home would react to such expression. I even mentioned my “Vogue Boy” video because I felt that the performance people were seeing on video did not match who I really was off camera. What countless viewers interpreted as brave was in many ways blissful ignorance. (Something closer to my personality, if still meant for audience approval, was put on display in another video shot that same summer in a “1-2-3 Video” message booth.)

When asked about my early verbal communication, I referenced having been told over the years by my mother that I had uttered my first word at three months old when I greeted a housekeeper with a "Hi". The neurologist seemed skeptical. It may have been that this seemed out of character for a child with AS. But, that morning, I read the reaction as doubt that this event had even occurred. That at three months I had begun expertly mimicking sounds in response to specific stimuli seemed buried underneath overall suspicion, which fueled my subsequent insecurity about how my answers were being received.

I made it clear that I am a recluse living with my parents in my childhood home and that I had seen hardly any other people for the last year. I stressed that crippling social anxiety, not a lack of desire to be working, was the reason why I cannot get a job and turn my life around in spite of all the people who look at me and see nothing more than a typical “loser” stereotype. When asked about my sleeping schedule, I revealed with my trademark New England/Catholic guilt/shame that I am most inclined to go to sleep around 5 AM and wake up around 2 PM. This counters society's expectations of "normal", and I've spent two decades trying to conform, but it has been my natural tendency since puberty kicked into high gear at the age of thirteen. I didn't get a verbal response. But the neurologist's non-verbal response seemed to me, once again, critical and vaguely judgmental.

The most surprising interaction came about when the neurologist asked me if I dated or had girlfriends in high school. I told the neurologist that I’m gay, and that I knew this back then but was not out at the time. I told the neurologist that I did not cover this up by dating females, and emphasized that I was adamant about not leading girls on after a close female friend had had feelings for me which I could not reciprocate at a time when I could not be honest as to why. While typing, the neurologist stated, in regards to my being gay: “it was pretty obvious, but I have to ask”. At the time, I laughed, as I did not interpret it as hate speech. In hindsight, I feel this was part of an overall sense of dismissiveness that permeated the reactions to my answers.

Asked about my ability to read other people being angry or upset, I noted that my tendency was the extreme opposite: I always fear having just hurt people and I always think people are left upset. I begin to question every move I've made and everything I've said and in what way I could have hurt someone enough with what I've said or done to potentially destroy them. Someone telling me they love me one minute doesn't mean I won't be convinced I have not earned their hate the next minute, hence a perennial need for assurance. I don't know how much of this I conveyed in the office because what was on my mind and how it came out seems to have been somewhat disconnected. But I'd like to think I made it clear that my empathy, while abundant rather than lacking, is still extremely abnormal.

After giving my answers, I looked at my hands or looked at the wall or at the floor while the doctor looked at the screen and typed in silence. All of the neurologist's questions were met with honest answers. Most of these honest answers would indicate AS. But these were ultimately dismissed on the basis that: a.) I get along well with my immediate family, b.) I care intensely and obsessively about not hurting other people's feelings, and c.) "you seem amiable to me". According to the neurologist, my concern for the feelings of others indicated I did not have Asperger’s Syndrome, as “people with Asperger’s don’t really care if other people are happy”. The neurologist felt that my being close to my sister indicated I did not have Asperger’s Syndrome since the difficulty that people with AS have interacting with other people begins at home, and thus it would be unlikely someone with Asperger's would get along with family members.

The neurologist felt that simple therapy would treat what the neurologist perceived as severe social anxiety disorder, which had not only impacted my ability to pursue a job but also my ability to keep one for more than a matter of weeks or months. The neurologist felt that my experiences being a gay teenager at an all boys’ Catholic school in the 1990s could be largely responsible. The neurologist suggested that I was likely still dealing with unresolved anxiety from my semi-closeted high school years.

I reiterated something that I brought up early on in the evaluation, which is that I had been rapidly flapping my hands in states of intense thought or heightened excitement ever since childhood, when I did it openly, and that this is something I constantly still do in private as an adult. In the most alarming statement of the evaluation, the neurologist offered that this, too, was directly related to my homosexuality. “Most of my gay friends use their hands a lot” was the specific response. Once again, I laughed this off. 

The neurologist followed up this summation by noting that if I wanted to I could still make an appointment to undergo four hours of neurological testing to know for sure whether or not I had Asperger’s. At that point, I was anxiety-ridden, discouraged, and in doubt of my ability to understand anything about myself. I could not wait to get out of there, so I turned down the opportunity. I accepted the diagnosis despite my misgivings, I referenced my "Vogue Boy" video (no doubt a an unconscious suggestion to reconsider the diagnosis), and cheerily said goodbye with a big smile because I was so happy to be leaving. 

Part 2: March 29th, 2014

Over six months after my evaluation, I discovered that a number of challenges faced by my partner and I are commonplace in relationships in one which one (or both) partners have AS.  I proceeded to read books and testimonials from Aspergians writing in defense of their unique emotional make-up. Learning that perhaps intense over-empathy is being mistaken as a lack of empathy in a number of Aspies seemed to hit the nail on the head: this was EXACTLY what I was trying to communicate in the office that day about my skewed emotional make-up, but sadly to no avail. Maybe some Aspies, if not most, don't care if other people are happy. But many Aspergians assert that this oversimplification does not accurately describe all people with Asperger’s, and empathetic Aspies like activist/artist Alex Plank are clearly frustrated with not being heard--or, like myself and many Aspergian females, are not being diagnosed at all. 

My going in for the evaluation in the first place was based not only on my own feelings, but also based on the opinions of my parents, my sister, and my life partner. (Subsequent research has lead me to believe that my aforementioned loved ones are themselves undiagnosed Aspergians, hence the surprising closeness with my family.) One month before the evaluation, I had been referred to the neurologist by my physician, who “would not be surprised” if I was found to have Asperger’s Syndrome  based on knowing me through a handful of appointments over seven months. My physician also suspected that if I had AS, it would likely be a “mild” case. Subsequently, my fear about being evaluated was that my desire to please and my aptitude for unconsciously performing would suggest an outgoing personality and belie the fact that said “personality” is, in fact, a lifelong front. Sadly, my fear was realized. 

For seven months now, that morning of August 29th, 2013 has been a frequent source of pain and regret. I spent the preceding weeks anticipating a definitive neurological confirmation that would allow me to approach my life in a positive new way. I was given a diagnosis based on an interview, leading me to believe that I had apparently misunderstood myself for my entire life. I wore a Michael Jackson t-shirt into the office that day, because it was his birthday, or “Michael Jackson Day”, as I call it. Michael has been a guiding influence on me since my birth, and only more so since his death, and going in I assumed he was on the autistic spectrum, too. When I was told Aspies don't care about the happiness of others, I realized he couldn’t be one either. He, too, was obsessed with other peoples' happiness, and like myself, his isolated and intensely creative life was fueled by this aim to please, from his early success as an ultra-precocious child through his troubled adulthood.

I emphasized where I was at in my life, and not without a great deal of shame. I was thirty one, living with my parents, and had become a recluse. I was too anxious to drive a car or see people, and thus incapable of interviewing for a job or shopping around for a suitable therapist. I was spending my days writing by myself and my nights watching movies by myself. It is an endless cycle of solitude that is usually only broken by extended video chats with my partner, whom I feel is a fellow "Aspie" and who is also presently living with his family in a nearly identical situation. I have since learned that my present life, as described to the neurologist, is sadly not an unfamiliar manifestation of undiagnosed Asperger's Syndrome. I am, like so many other undiagnosed adults, suffering the inevitable state of disconnection and uncertainty that comes with not knowing "what's wrong with me" in relation to the rest of the human race. If I had realized just how NOT alone I was, and just how RIGHT I was to be there that day, I would never have turned down the opportunity to undergo the very testing I thought I was showing up for in the first place. I went in for an evaluation based on traits that I saw in myself for years prior to the low point that my life had sunk to. I had no idea that day that said low point is further indication that I am not only correct in my assumption, but would have benefited immeasurably from having been diagnosed years earlier. And I would give anything to have known all of this last August. 

Prior to the evaluation, I was shocked and relieved to learn that rapidly flapping my hands while in a state of excitement brought about by intense inwardness--something which consistently attracted amusement throughout childhood before becoming a hidden, embarrassing trait ever since--is a defining trait of individuals on the autistic spectrum. But I did not know the word for this, “stimming”, until after my evaluation. I suspect that my use of grandiose hand gestures while explaining myself, rather than the stimming that I was attempting to explain, is what the neurologist reacted to. Several days later, my sister sent me a YouTube video of a young boy with Asperger’s whose mother asked him to demonstrate and explain his stimming. His behavior, his demeanor, and his description of his internal experience while stimming illustrated everything I had been attempting to communicate in the office and apparently could not. I saw myself in this child, as did my sister. Subsequently, the mortified reaction of everyone with whom I shared the doctor's "most of my gay friends use their hands a lot" statement preempted my own shock in being given such a stereotype-based response to such an incredibly common behavior of individuals on the autistic spectrum.

I would like to stress that I do not believe that the neurologist I spoke with was motivated by any homophobic inclination. With that said, I feel that my being gay was way too prominent an issue in this evaluation. Addressing my sexuality as “pretty obvious” early on and later writing off my stimming as behavior not unlike “most of my gay friends” was troubling, to me and to many of my loved ones. I have always struggled with social relationships, in predominantly gay as well as predominantly straight environments. Thus I do not agree with the theory that my problems today are directly rooted in my Catholic high school years, particularly not after fifteen subsequent years of being relentlessly open about my sexuality and in a decade-long relationship with another man. Two of my oldest friends, neither of whom I see very often but both of whom have been in my life since our youth, both separately joked that I had gone in for Asperger’s testing and been diagnosed as gay.

Based on the neurologist’s facial expressions and body language, I interpreted skepticism, condescension, and general irritation. I took the neurologist's "so what brings you here today?" as an implication that this was an audition as much as an evaluation. I proceeded accordingly, answering the questions and reading the signs sent by someone who struck me as going down a checklist rather than exhibiting concern for what I was saying and where it was coming from. Throughout the evaluation, I felt that the neurologist was looking at me as though I was looking at Asperger's as a scapegoat for my neurosis. I may very well have been correct in this assumption. Or I may very well have entirely misread the non-verbal cues before me. If indeed I completely misread the neurologist, then I feel all the more convinced that I have Asperger's. But regardless of the accuracy of my interpretation, by the time the forty minutes was up, I felt browbeaten and stripped of any sense of self beyond being gay and seemingly “amiable”. I also felt like such a neurotic stereotype that I turned down the tests I had wanted to have done so as to avoid further embarrassing myself in the eyes of the neurologist. 

I know that I have Asperger’s Syndrome. This is based not only on the overwhelming extent to which I can personally identify with the experiences of diagnosed individuals, but also based on the observations and memories of people close to me whom I have knowingly or unknowingly revealed my true self to in the years between my being an ahead-of-his-years child and a what-went-wrong-with-him adult. I also know that my evaluation had a catastrophic effect on my self-esteem. I feel that a big part of my reaction in this regard was based on the fact that the evaluation seemed bound to end in dismissal from the get-go. That such focus would be placed on my sexuality suggests that perhaps my feigned demeanor had a bigger influence on my diagnosis than did my honest answers to the questions I was asked. Since that day, I have struggled to feel like myself again. But thanks to incredible blogs like SeventhVoice, communities like Alex Plank's WrongPlanet, and activists/authors like Temple Grandin, Maxine Aston, and John Elder Robison, the voices of people whose life experiences I most relate to are leading me out of the dark.

Up to now, this blog has primarily been a platform for me to worship my favorite stars, rave about my favorite movies, celebrate my favorite pop culture anniversaries, and generally indulge in my perceived narcissism--all indicators of Asperger's, I might add! Thus, you may rightfully be asking why I would suddenly feel the need to discuss extremely personal details about my mental health. And that brings me to the questions I’ve been asking myself in the days leading up to writing this post. Is it not possible that cultural stereotypes of gay men as high-strung and idol-obsessed has permeated science and medicine, and to such an extent that autism is being confused with homosexuality? Is it not possible that in the seven months since I accepted my diagnosis that numerous other LGBTQ people have accepted similar diagnoses, putting aside their self-understanding in favor of an expert opinion? And, more importantly, is it possible that doing so has lead to the same depression, anxiety, and overwhelming self-doubt that has swallowed up the last seven months of my own life? 

I have only myself to blame for letting anxiety and self-doubt hold me back from giving a “Yes” answer when offered the testing I so wanted. And so I blamed only myself for the last seven months. Now, I anxiously await the opportunity to finally undergo neurocognitive testing in July. I could not be more excited about Summer 2014, and I pray it provides the assurance and optimism I sought out in Summer 2013. In the meantime, I will fight to believe in MY understanding of myself, even if it means fighting against the real or perceived skepticism of others. I stand alongside everyone waging a war against such doubt, and will keep my comrades up to date through future posts.

Happy 40th Anniversary To Our Favorite Couple!!

In addition to being the birthday of my second favorite movie star, Joan Crawford, March 23rd is also the wedding anniversary of two of my favorite people: my Mom and Dad. There would never have been  a "Vogue Boy" video without Madonna, but I would never have been a Vogue Boy without my parents. They protected me from the very concept of intolerance throughout my childhood, and they were offscreen cheering me on while I danced. It is certainly not the only reason I am forever grateful to them. But I think this aspect of that happy moment in my childhood speaks to why I regard them as being my friends as well as my parents.

My parents are remarkably unpretentious people who instilled in me a habit (if not a superstition) of maintaining a veil of modesty between "public" and "personal". As such, I weighed whether or not to post a collection of favorite photos as I had previously done for my mother’s birthday and the anniversary of my cat Toby walking into my life. But I decided I would share a handful of treasured images, and for two reasons. First and foremost, my sister Jennifer gave us all a gift when she scanned hundreds of family photos back in 2008 for their digital preservation. This presentation is a gift we give to our parents together, for it would never have been possible had she not spent weeks finding and saving a lifetime's worth of priceless treasures. Second, my parents have been through a great deal of hardship in recent years. Like so many people around the world right now, financial struggles have tested their other relationships. When you lose a great deal of money, you find that many friends and family members suddenly stop caring. (We do, after all, live in a “what’s in it for me?” society.) You also gain a new appreciation for those loved ones who reveal that their love and compassion is in no way connected to money or materialism, a revelation that makes you love those loved ones more than you ever thought possible. It is through these eyes of love that I present these photographs, scanned by my sister and taken by many such loved ones over the course of my parents’ forty year marriage. As much as anything else, my parents have taught me that friendship is at the root of all great relationships, and most especially lifelong romance. My sister and I are more blessed than words can ever describe to be the children of our father and mother. And nothing makes us happier than knowing that, “in good times and in bad”, they always have had and always will have one another.

Possibly the most romantic ending in film history.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY MOM AND DAD, 

WITH LOVE FROM BOTH OF US ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!!!! XOXOXOXOXO

        ROB & JEN 

"As long as life endures, it's yours....this heart of mine." 

Fifteen Years...."Quicker Than A Ray of Light"

Tomorrow, March 2nd, 2013, marks fifteen years since I first heard Madonna’s Ray of Light, a day before its official U.S. release. I do not know if any words can convey how highly anticipated this album was by her fans, nor how much excitement it generated in those early years of internet buzz. In 2012, I honored its fourteenth anniversary with a commemorative post, featuring my memories of that especially bright spot in Madonna’s career as well as YouTube clips of alternate, extended, and instrumental versions of the tracks that comprised her most celebrated record. This year, I thought I would once again employ the services of YouTube to provide further insight into “The Ray of Light Era” and Madonna’s creative process. For those who can relate to my nostalgia, as well as those who have never seen these TV appearances before, here are some of my favorite Madonna interviews, performances, and awards ceremonies from February 1998 through February 1999. That this represents only a portion of the ROL press tour speaks to just how busy Madonna kept herself during the twelve months that would redefine her music career and elevate her legend.

The weekend before the release of Ray of Light, MTV broadcast a slew of videos and vintage TV specials, along with this episode of UltraSound. It featured not only an interview on the set of Madonna's "Frozen" music video but also a fascinating, truly unprecedented look at Madonna in the recording studio.

Shortly after the release of Ray of Light, Madonna made her second of three memorable appearances on her BFF's The Rosie O'Donnell Show. It was the only time she ever performed on the show, but it's Madonna and Rosie's hilarious yoga session that makes this one my favorite episode! 

 

Madonna sat down with Oprah Winfrey for the second time in May 1998 in one of her most relaxed and entertaining interviews. It was the only time she performed on Oprah, delivering the first-ever televised performance of "Ray of Light" and, to date, the ONLY live performance of "Little Star". 

Madonna made her only appearance at the Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards in 1998. I'm not sure if she was there because Rosie O'Donnell was hosting, because she was now a Mom, or because she was honoring the "tween" market that was digging her new material. I have to admit, that day, I was sorely jealous of the generation born after me: I SO wished Madonna made this appearance when I was still young enough to be a Nickelodeon viewer! 

A classic interview taken on the set of Madonna's iconic "Ray of Light" video, which marked her first collaboration with friend and Swedish film genius Jonas Akerlund. Akerlund would go on to direct her "Music" and "American Life" videos as well as the Grammy-nominated backstage documentary I'm Going To Tell You A Secret and the Grammy-winning The Confessions Tour: Live From London. 

A short but sweet and especially memorable pre-taped message that was broadcast to celebrate Tony Bennett's fifty years in show business during a live-by-request TV concert the legendary crooner performed in 1998. Bennett, a vocal and avowed Madonna fan, had been begging Madonna to record a duet for years. Fingers crossed that that dream collaboration comes true one day!

Click to hear Madonna's message to Tony!

In September 1998, once again, Madonna stole the show at The MTV Video Music Awards. The show opened with what remains her ONLY televised performance of "Shanti/Ashtangi" and ended with superfan Geri Halliwell (making her first post-Spice Girls appearance in the U.S.) handing Madonna the trophy for Video of the Year. Excerpted here are the opening performance of "Shanti" and "Ray of Light", with the latter song featuring Lenny Kravitz and many of the dancers featured in the video. I was quite thrilled to find that two pre-show segments now live on in YouTube Land: a hilarious promo with Ben Stiller and Guy Oseary, and one of Madonna's last sit-down interviews with Kurt Loder. The interview is especially memorable because Madonna reveals that she doesn't know who Jennifer Love Hewett is....which made it particularly awkward when Hewett presented Madonna with an award later that night! 

Madonna made a splash at another awards ceremony shortly after the VMAs, when she gave her only live performance in America of "The Power of Good-Bye" and scooped up a handful of trophies at The 1998 VH1 Fashion & Music Awards. Madonna was being honored for her ever-changing appearance, including a lifetime achievement award from Donatella Versace for her immortal stylishness. So it should come as no surprise that Madonna wore three different outfits over the course of the night. Nor should it come as a surprise that her briefly infamous Hindi-inspired apparel was spoofed when Joan Allen portrayed Madonna the following weekend on Saturday Night Live. 

Madonna gave her only UK performance of "The Power Of Good-Bye" on this 1998 appearance on Top of the Pops--quite a stark contrast to her TOTP debut singing "Holiday" in 1984! It was one of the last times she ever performed the song live, having scrapped plans to sing it the following December at The 1998 Billboard Music Awards and seemingly barring it from every subsequent tour. Fingers crossed it finds its way into a future setlist, as it remains one of Madonna's most gorgeous and affecting ballads. 

(For those of us in the U.S. blocked from seeing the above performance, here's another live rendition from Fall '98!)

Madonna finally appeared on Larry King Live in January 1999, spending an hour discussing her life and career. The interview got off to an odd start, with King applauding Madonna for being so brave as to release her first album minus a last name (?), but despite a string of familiar questions the rapport between King and The Queen is warm, funny, and ultimately revealing. (Much to my disappointment, it appears only the first half of this interview is on YouTube.)

Had Madonna ever attended The Grammys prior to 1999? She had been nominated for eight Grammys, including Record of the Year for "Like A Prayer" and "Best Long Form Music Video" for her Blond Ambition Tour LaserDisc, the latter being her lone Grammy win for the first sixteen years of her career. I know she didn't show up in 1996 when Bedtime Stories was her first-ever album to be nominated for "Best Pop Vocal Album". But in 1999 Ray of Light would win the award in that category, the first and thus far only Madonna LP to do so. It was also the first and thus far only Madonna album ever to be nominated for "Album of the Year", which it lost to Lauryn Hill's The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.  The single "Ray of Light" was Madonna's second of three (thus far) to be nominated for "Record of the Year". It lost in that category, but won the first-ever trophy for "Best Dance Recording", as well as giving Madonna her only win for "Best Short Form Music Video", a category in which she has been nominated four times. That year also marked the first time she ever performed at the Grammys and the last time she ever performed under the direction of her brother, Christopher Ciccone. As outlined in his infamous tell-all Life With My Sister Madonna, Christopher Ciccone had been Madonna's closest and most frequent collaborator from her New York days through directing The Girlie Show, which he acclaimed in his book as the respective peak in both of their careers. After The Girlie Show, however, his collaboration seems to have been limited to directing her only live performance of "Bedtime Story", at The 1995 Brit Awards, and her only live performance of "Nothing Really Matters", at The 1999 Grammy Awards. One hopes that their collaborations won't end there. In addition to that performance and Madonna's triumphant win of the "Best Pop Vocal Album" Grammy, you'll also find a snippet of Madonna's backstage flirtation with Ricky Martin. It came about shortly after Martin's performance that night of "La Copa De La Vida" preceded a Grammy win and instant superstardom. It lead to the collaboration "Cuidado Con Mi Corazon", a Madonna-William Orbit song written as a solo for Madonna but re-worked into a memorable Madonna-Martin duet for Ricky Martin's mega-successful 1999 album Ricky Martin. The final YouTube gem pairs coverage from both Access Hollywood and Entertainment Tonight of Madonna's post-Grammy high. It's Madonna at her giddiest and least reserved, truly as happy as she's ever been on camera. For those of us who had been on the journey with her from the album's release to the Grammys' redemption, it was euphoria as infectious as it was thoroughly deserved.

An Unexpected Farewell To An Unexpected Muse

It was the second time it happened in less than a year: my life crossed paths with a favorite gay porn star in the moments just before his death. In 2012, I saw a Tweet that Erik Rhodes posted about the tears he shed every time he listened to Madonna’s “Has To Be”. And so I Tweeted him my blog entry “Straight vs. ‘Straight’” and spent the next day anxiously wondering if he’d been affected and would reply. The next morning he died unexpectedly, and that day his passing was the first I ever wrote about for my blog.

Today I learned of the death of Arpad Miklos, the beautiful, charismatic Hungarian actor and star of dozens of modern gay classics. I did not know who he was until only a few years ago, but when I saw him onscreen, I was mesmerized. The effect never went away. Something about Arpad was warm and sensual and yet dark and dangerous. I always felt that he had the looks and the talent to be a European movie star, and that’s why he became the muse for one of the characters in a script that I have recently been polishing for submission to a screenplay competition. In my mind, Arpad plays one of the lead characters, and my dream was that his recent fame following the Perfume Genius “Hood” music video could lead to his being a contender to play the role onscreen. (I even changed the character’s name from “Oliver” to “Armand” to insure he’d be an instant fit.) In recent days I have been reworking the script, and Arpad had frequently been on my mind as such. On Sunday night, I began work on a new blog entry that he inspired when his being on my mind lead me to YouTube video clips of Arpad locking lips with his co-stars in various gay porn films. The blog dealt with the power that onscreen depictions of male-male intimacy could have in preventing suicide. I planned to post that blog this evening, but while finishing it, I learned that Arpad had taken his own life on Sunday night.

Recent events have prompted me to be more open about my deeply spiritual beliefs, and I cannot treat the timing of Arpad’s suicide and his directly inspiring my pro-sex/anti-suicide post as mere coincidence. However, I also cannot bring myself to post it as originally written so soon after Arpad’s passing. It’s not that this awful news changed my perspective: I think the message is all the more relevant after such a tragedy, and clearly the Universe agrees with me. But I’m just not prepared to rewrite what must remain “a happy post” in this sad new context. Like Erik Rhodes, Marilyn Chambers, Jamie Gillis, and Linda Lovelace, this death affects me on a deeply personal level because it was not only the loss of life but the loss of an opportunity. And that opportunity was for mainstream audiences to see in these beautiful people what made them among the most beloved film stars of erotic cinema. Fans of adult films are not viewed with the same credibility as more highbrow film connoisseurs, because we live in a society that treats sexual fantasy as a necessary evil and people who are open about their fantasies are inevitably subjected to one of many different forms of castigation. But this is nothing compared to the treatment of the stars of adult films, who are barred from working in mainstream cinema and often barred from working in the mainstream world at all. It’s easy to understand why people would still make porn in their forties when they were denied jobs by the very hypocrites who bought their videos. 

I am not going to comment one way or another on the adult film industry, because there is a very big difference between the industry and the art form. If my views of “the world of porn” seem a bit Pollyanna-esque, it’s because I’m rabidly in favor of preserving and celebrating the art form. This is not to say that porn stars are not exploited by the industry that chews them up and spits them out. But it is society at large that I call upon to take accountability for the number of porn stars who end up turning to drugs or alcohol or crime or suicide. The judgment bestowed by society upon people who have made a career having sex onscreen is akin to the evils of racism, homophobia, and misogyny their most raw and rampant. I do not know why Arpad Miklos (whose name, I learned after his death, was Peter Kozma) chose to end his life when he did, but I would imagine that the worship of countless fans, the love of his friends, and the respect of his industry peers was not enough to compensate for the cruelty of a society that refused to see his inner and outer beauty the way those who adored him did. The media will no doubt use his death to further admonish the porn industry and in turn further disenfranchise porn stars from the rest of the world. But I hope the onscreen legacy that Arpad left behind, and the many admirable qualities he exuded in his interactions with people offscreen, will be what the world remember about him. Like Marilyn Chambers and Jamie Gillis, he had what it took to be a movie star. And like Marilyn Chambers and Jamie Gillis, he will always be a movie star, 

and a muse, to me.

Rest in peace, Peter…..I will never cease to be grateful. xoxoxo

My Favorite Aquarian

My Mother is not as big a movie fan as I am, for she is the type of person who always chooses the real world over the infinite alternate universes of cinema. But she only ever encouraged my movie love, bringing me to see arthouse movies in the sixth grade (per my request) and seeing Showgirls on opening night with my father (per my birthday wish) because I was too young to be admitted. She has always had faith in my dreams and always allowed me to be who I am, no matter how far-fetched or freakish or shameless I might have been labeled by the rest of the world. She has also been an endless source of optimism and support. Her openness and honesty have shaped me every day, and encouraged me to appreciate those same qualities in all people, but most especially in other strong women. Like my father, she didn’t simply “accept” me, she encouraged me to be completely myself, but never at the expense of other people's well-being. I credit whatever good karma I have to the example my parents set from day one, and I owe every happiness to their belief in my right to lead a fulfilled life. 

This is a big birthday year for my family, as my Mother, my Father, and my sister Jennifer are all celebrating milestones. And while most sons are instructed not to reveal their mother’s age, I am proud to celebrate my Mom’s 65^th birthday today because it is a moment that deserves to be honored and reflected upon by the countless people whose lives she has touched since January 31^st, 1948. The happiness she has brought to my father and my sister and I is beyond compare, but we are only three of the people whose love for Kathy Jeffrey is voluminous, everlasting, and earned. She is an extraordinary person who has, in turn, drawn many other extraordinary people to her. 

Above all else, I am especially thankful for that.

There is no definitive way to pay proper tribute to my amazing Mother, but I hope this collection of some of my favorite photographs can be a small sign of gratitude, a testament to how fortunate I know I am to be Her son. And now I toast "my favorite Aquarian" by dedicating this 52^nd blog post to my Mother. From long before I was born up to the present (birth)day, She has been strong, passionate, understanding, funny, thoughtful, sensitive, courageous, kind, and all around just really fucking cool.

(I felt the final point was worth underlining with out-of-character profanity.;)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!!!!!!!! 

I LOVE YOU ALWAYS!!! XOXOXOXO

    

And now, to close, the performance that ALWAYS makes me think of my Mom.