Tag Archives: LGBT

BIRTH OF A NOTION

I’VE ONLY EVER MADE ONE New Year’s commitment. It was soon after I learned I was conceived during the wee hour following a New Year’s Eve celebration welcoming January 1, 1946.

“I don’t remember your birth,” my Mom dodged as she ironed blouses on my fiftieth birthday while detailing the deliverances of my siblings. “Your’s was like a used car after a New Year’s Eve dalliance.” 

“Excuse me? Dalliance? I was a dalliance?

My folks didn’t display evidence of a demonstratively affectionate union. The serrated edge, sepia wedding photo buried at the bottom of a bedroom dresser drawer attested to their having once been in love. But by the time I was old enough to empathize, there was no physical contact to observe. Suffice it to say, I never saw them kiss, hold hands, or even touch. It made any accounting of my arrival play more like a balancing act between burning the ironing board cover and battling spray starch build-up than accurately answering me. And, to be fair, at eighty-three her memories of maternity weren’t exactly chart toppers.

Nonetheless. 

“Cathy was born fifteen months after me,” I pestered, “yet you remember her delivery day and not mine?”

“David was my first, that’s why. Kit was my biggest, Michael was my earliest, Susie was my first girl, and Cathy was my last pregnancy — all two years apart! How could I forget?”

There were other distinctions made between us as well. As children, David and Cathy were gifted athletes. Kit marched in every school band through college playing coronet. Susie sang well enough to turn professional and Michael looked like a movie star. I was quieter by comparison, content with pets as my companions and seldom sought attention.

Perhaps I was like that from birth? It called for my surrender. “Well, at least I have the distinction of you remembering my creation.”

“Oh, no, I recall them all,” she perked up. “David was planned as our first anniversary gift to each other, and Kit was conceived on Halloween as a treat. I ended up in labor for 33 hours with that boy, walking the halls of Foote Hospital, trying to push him out. To this day he’s never without a piece of candy in his mouth. As for Michael — Michael was a Valentine’s Day creation that we were expecting near Thanksgiving. But you know how your brother Michael is about being early. Delivered him on the elevator. He just couldn’t sit still and wait. Now your sister Susie was conceived on my birthday, so we knew she’d arrive as our seventh anniversary gift. Of course, we were expecting a boy. That was the plan, to only have four boys. And finally Cathy, dear sweet Cathy. She was an income tax day deadline we met in the nick of time. But you all have that one thing in common.”

“Which is?”

“Your father was never present at any of his children’s birth. I delivered all of you solo.”

Sensing she spent a lifetime twinged by the loneliness of that indignity struck a cord in me more tender than her not recalling my day of birth. 

Since then I have made and kept the singularly same resolution:  I resolve that my Mom, and all the memories she shared with me will never be forgotten. 

Happy New Year!

~

Marguerite Quantaine is an essayist and novelist

who values your opinion and appreciates

you for sharing this with others.

.

Please select LEAVE A REPLY by clicking below the BIRTH OF A NOTION headline.

.

KINDLE & PAPERBACK BOOKS BY MARGUERITE QUANTAINE 

CAN BE FOUND ON AMAZON & AVAILABLE IN BOOKSTORES NATIONWIDE.

You are urged to LOOK INSIDE for a try-before-you-buy

FREE READ

of the first 3 chapters of each book

on Amazon.

HAPPY HOLLY DAYS

For Pets & People Everywhere

Chanukah. Solstice.Christmas.&et al

Marguerite Quantaine is a novelist, essayist and designer.

Find Her On Amazon • Friend Her On Facebook •  Follow Her On Twitter

Seriously, Mom, you didn’t Know?

Imogene’s Eloise: Inspired by a true love story

by Marguerite Quantaine © Copyright © 2015 & 2019

NOW ON AMAZON & AVAILABLE IN BOOKSTORES NATIONWIDE

You are urged to LOOK INSIDE on Amazon for a try-before-you-buy FREE READ of the first 3 chapters.

THE 5 OLD SCHOOL RULES OF 4-LETTER WORDS & WHY

( … always read the small print. )

.

.

Please select LEAVE A REPLY by clicking below the headline.

I value your opinion and appreciate you for sharing this with others.

.

Find Marguerite Quantaine on Amazon. She encourages you to LOOK INSIDE her books for a FREE sample read before deciding to purchase.

Friend her at Marguerite Quantaine on Facebook.

Follow her @ http://www.margueritequantaine.com.

“I’d wonder aloud why we continue to chase after a society that doesn’t rise to the talent and tenderness of our own….

And why we must diminish the sanctity of ourselves by kowtowing to those who quietly curse us.”

Female Affection

In Celebration of Our 50 Years Together As 2 Women (Still) In Love . . .

. . . we are giving away

50 paperback editions of

SERIOUSLY, MOM, you didn’t know?

Judge This Book By Cover 2020

CLICK ON THIS BOOK LINK

that opens to a FREE 3 chapter preview.

ONLY IF YOU ENJOY IT,

friend me on Facebook so you can IM me your

shipped-directly-from-Amazon snail mail details

after answering one question about the chapters you’ve read.

First 50 qualifiers get the

PAPERBACK ONLY edition,

FREE.

One book per address.

NOTE: This post will self-destruct after 50 books have been given away. List of winners will be posted on Facebook. Thank you for participating!

.

(If the book skips ahead, simply tap the left arrow.)

First come, first served. This post will self-destruct after quota has been met.
Seriously, Mom, you didn’t know?

THIS BEARS REPEATING

Bears RepeatingSixteen friends called it quits in March. Adultery was cited as the cause in 5 of the 8 couple splits. I’m saddened when I learn of such heartbreak. Here’s why:
.
I once knew a woman who was a serial cheater, oozing charm whenever she wanted to seduce someone. Mostly, she targeted women with troubled lives. To gain their trust, she claimed to be the victim of a failed relationship. She fed them with words she knew only damaged women longed to hear. She raised them up while having her way with them. She promised them a future. She convinced them that they needed her. Eventually and inevitably, she ditched them. And, just to ensure none would chase after her, the last words she spoke to each woman she cut loose were: “No wonder nobody loves you.”
.
Infidelity is such an old and popular game of deception, you’d think women would have learned to avoid cheaters by now.
.
But no. Women persist in thinking they’ll be the one to tame the fox welcomed into their henhouse.
.
The fact is this: Every woman on earth has been victimized to some extent during her lifetime. Every . . . single . . . one of us.
.
Where love is involved, some choose to be perpetual victims, always eager for the ‘ideal’ person to choose them, accepting of similar characteristics in new partners to replace the former, growing old and stale like hard candy until all traces of sweetness have dissolved into bitterness.
.
A toxic indicator of having been victimized is chronic rage, a corollary of post-traumatic stress syndrome. When physical, verbal, or emotional abuse is experienced for extended periods (especially during childhood) it never leaves you. Certain words or actions push buttons in your brain creating a fight-or-flight frenzy, unleashing the dormant fury.
.
The thing is, we all tend to blame others for rages directed at us — while excusing our own rages directed at others — in order to justify the decisions we make.
.
This is where the intent of the heart comes in.
.
In the aftermath of tears and loneliness that are sure to follow once rage erupts, you must learn to measure the intent of your heart against the intent of the heart of the person who hurt you. You must. Only then will walking away be easier than staying; leaving be easier than being left.
.
The death of love is intended to be the hardest learned lesson in the test of time.
.
Because the reward of love is priceless.
.
So, try to remember the journey you took with the other person — not from the end of it looking back, but from the memory of the start. Chart how it soared. Determine if you made every effort to catch it when it began to teeter, every effort to shore it up when it started to crumble, every effort to revive it before you let it die.
.
Own that you aren’t innocent. Own your part in the turmoil. Own the buttons you pushed. Own the choices you made that enabled the demise of your life together. Own the carrot of false hope you dangled long after hope in you was gone. Own the lies you told to yourself and others.
.
If you’re hurting, join a support group to find comfort and get help. You can’t recover alone. But don’t allow the group to become your only source for self-esteem. Have an exit plan from it.
.
Then, every morning, face yourself in the mirror and ask: Have I cast myself as a victim? Do I look like one? Have I presented myself to others as such? Do I enjoy being seen as a victim? Is victimhood my aspiration?
.
If not, don’t adopt that image. Don’t encourage or allow others to attach that tag to you. Don’t become a poster girl for victimhood.
.
Because, in the short term, you might find the comfort you need and the support you deserve — but in the long term, there are only two types of people you’ll attract:
(1) Those who embrace their suffering, dwell on their past, and treat being victimized as their red badge of courage.
(2) Those who will target you as prey to be used and abused again.
.

Victims say, “I am who I am because of …”
Survivors say, “I am who I am in spite of …”
.
Be a survivor.
.

#     #     #

If  you enjoyed this essay, I’d be grateful if you’d please leave a REPLY and/or hit the LIKE button and be certain to share it on all your social media sites. Without your generosity to share, many of the essays you enjoy online never get read.

.

On behalf of all essayists and authors — my heartfelt thanks!

.

Marguerite Quantaine is an essayist, author, and animal rescue activist. She is the author of Imogene’s Eloise: Inspired by a true story © 2014 and Seriously, Mom, you didn’t know?, due for release on Amazon in April, 2019.

CELEBRITY RECALLS

Long before it became a song or included in quizzes, “Do you know who you are?” was one of those instantaneous, absurd (yet common) questions most starstruck fans would ask a celebrity encountered on the streets of New York City. Not that I knew it in March of 1973 and not that I’ve made a fool of myself by uttering the question ever again. In fact, I was embarrassed and surprised I did the one time.Scan 2019-3-12 15.14.08

But we were young and giddy and on our way to Julius’ in the West Village to celebrate our anniversary with out-of-town friends when I spotted Lily Tomlin walking towards us on Greenwich Avenue in the West Village.

“Do you know who you are?” The words just gushed out.

“Gee, I think so,” was Lily’s reply, and “sure” to my request to take her photo. The shorter girl with blonde hair accompanying her hurried back out of frame range and, even though I waved her back in, she’d have nothing to do with the invite.

Apparently gaydar was down that day because none of us picked up on the other as being a couple. Or maybe an over abundance of happiness was drowning the frequency out? Because they would have been enjoying their first year together around then to our third. Which means this must be their 47th anniversary year to our 49th.

Oh happy daze!

~ ~ ~

I rode in my first limousine on New Year’s Eve, 1973. Our friend, Tom Dale, was a market research specialist and producer of television commercials who lived in a penthouse on East 48th Street and needed to be seen on the town with arm candy as a guise for his closeted true self. Elizabeth and I were his go-to-gal-pals and happily so. It afforded us the luxury to eat at the most trendy restaurants, attend posh events, and always have third row orchestra seats on the aisle at Broadway shows. That New Year’s Eve we’d seen Pippin’ at The Music Box Theater on West 45th Street.

.

The show let out to throngs of partygoers who had already gathered in Times Square and beyond anticipating the ball dropping at midnight to welcome the start of 1974. At some point the limo needed to cross Broadway to the east side. When the police separated the crowds enough for traffic from the theater district to pass through, the people began to touch the darkened windows, hoping to get a glimpse of a celebrity hidden inside.

.

At that moment I realized how much more we identified with those oozing joy on the outside of the limo freezing in the streets than we’d ever be like those presumed to be riding within. I’ve never ceased wondering who’s hidden behind the tinted windows of limousines — but I stopped assuming it was anyone famous long, long ago.

.
Three weeks later, after attending Liza Minnelli Live At The Winter Garden, we joined Tom’s chum, Ted, for dinner at his private table in Ted Hook’s Backstage Restaurant next door to the Martin Beck Theater. Besides being a former hoofer in the chorus of more than 400 movies, Ted served as Talulah Bankhead’s personal secretary for five years and regularly entertained friends and customers with intimate stories of the star.

……

THIS POST REPRESENTS AN EXCERPT FROM:

Seriously, Mom, you didn’t Know? by Marguerite Quantaine Copyright © 2019

currently available on Amazon, Kindle, and in bookstores nationwide.

 

A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH

Six Weeks in Nevada Divorce CourtsI was once sued by the Town of Huntington, NY for 7 million dollars, plus interest since 1797, and a sentence of one year in jail for refusing to surrender documents to the town historian, Rufus B. Langhams, who alleged, under oath, had been stolen from the Town by a colonial-era employee and kept hidden by his ancestors for 195 years until I was consigned to auction the papers off along with the contents of the family estate.

Prior to the lawsuit being heard before New York State Supreme Court Justice William L. Underwood, Jr., I was vilified in print by The Long Islander and Newsday, shunned by former friends, slandered by candidates and their political operatives, chastised by churchgoers, and kept under surveillance for nearly a year — only to be threatened by an assistant town attorney hiding in the bushes of my front yard after midnight, incessantly meowing until I ventured out, then backing me up against my front door while brandishing a knife-like object in order to serve me with court papers.

I share this to demonstrate my profound respect for Christine Blasey Ford’s anticipated testimony before Congress pertaining to Brett Kavanaugh’s nomination to the Supreme Court of the United States.

She is courageous.

Few can imagine the resolve it takes to risk one’s life and livelihood in order to ensure justice be done on behalf of the majority who will not seek it for themselves, nor for the benefit of another, nor for the good of a nation — because the fear of retribution makes stepping up perilous.

(…and more)

_________________________________

# # #

THE ABOVE EXCERPT IS FROM THE BOOK

Seriously, Mom, you didn’t know?

by Marguerite Quantaine (essayist, author, and animal rescue activist).

PLEASE SAMPLE IT WITH A FREE CHAPTERS READ BY SELECTING FREE PREVIEW HERE:

Find her on Amazon. Friend her on Facebook. Follow her @ margueritequantaine.com.

A Force To Be Reckoned With © 9.22.18
.

I value your opinion and appreciate you for sharing this essay with others.


Please select LEAVE A REPLY by clicking below the headline
 to express your thoughts on this essay. 
I’m all eyes and heart.