So you're still here? This is part 2 of my life so far...
On the job front, after 3 months of joblessness I spoke to a friend, Alan Coffield, who had been a supervisor at CRC. He was now working for Quantime, the producer of Quantum, the premier tabulation program for market research. They were based in London, but had a New York office. Joe Marinelli (late of Thor Data) was its president in the U.S. Alan mentioned me to Joe, and I was immediately offered a job as a customer service representative. I took it, of course.
This job was at 38th St. and Eighth Avenue, in the Garment District. In time, my role broadened to becoming the lead tester for Quantum. The London people had no time to test the product, but it had to be tested before being launched on the world. Joe ordered me to "test every command in Quantum." This turned out to be an impossible task, as the different combinations were too many to practically test. In addition, I had no formal training in testing. I managed it, though. It's a third "turning point", if you like, as my profession since 1994 has been that of "software tester" in various guises.
You know, I've just realised that I haven't said anything about my mother's death and my relationship with my family. This has been a difficult subject for me, as I've been living away from my family for 31 years now. My mother and I were fairly close, speaking about once a week on the phone. However, her health had steadily deteriorated. She was, like me, overweight, but was also, unlike me, very short (about 5' tall). She had had a heart attack in 1975 or 1976, and had stopped smoking at that time. However, her weight became an impossible burden on her. She was not athletic or active in any way, and still had to cook for the family. She tried various diets, but without exercise, they had little effect.
On November 18, 1981, I got a phone call at work from my sister. She managed to say that Mom had had another heart attack the night before, and had died at the hospital. I returned home for the funeral, and took charge of the order of service for the funeral mass. Mom had been devout when younger, but I believe that the Humanae Vitae decision had made her feel sinned against by the Church, and she stopped going to Mass. The only things I remember about the funeral are the priest wearing purple vestments and my reading the first lesson. Mom had wanted black vestments, but there were none to be had in the church. The priest kept referring to her as "Elizabeth" during the service, which struck all of us funny, as no one who knew her called her anything but "Mert".
After this time, I stopped coming to Marblehead regularly. Until recently, this was still true. However, as my dad has grown older and frailer, I have felt the need to return more often, as I'd rather not have recriminations and "might-have-beens" or "should-haves" after his death.
My father, who is (May 2001) 80 and a half, still sleeps in the same bed, in the same room, in the same house he was born in. This does not bode well for travel. We rarely travelled when I was young. I remember several trips to New Hampshire, one to Maine, and one to Vermont. Bad habits die hard and are made young. Up until 1990, I had never travelled outside the Eastern time zone of the U.S. I had taken several trips to Canada (Montréal and Toronto), some to Philadelphia, Washington DC, and Miami. But I'd never strayed further.
Also in 1987 or 1988, I stumbled upon MACT/New York, "MACT" stands for "Men of All Colors Together", and is a U.S. national multiracial gay male organisation. It's known nationally as BWMT (Black and White Men Together), and had chapters in most major cities on the Coasts and in the Midwest. As my sexual interests tended toward black and Hispanic men, I was naturally attracted to this organisation. However, it was much more than that. Its co-chairs, James Toms and David Housel, became powerful role models in my own life. James was fierce, as only a young disaffected black man can be. He didn't tolerate racism, or any -ism, and had a biting wit and sarcasm that was used as a weapon. He didn't suffer fools gladly.
However, he saw something in me. I don't know what it was, potential perhaps. When I joined MACT, he became somewhat of a mentor, helping me come to terms with the racism in my soul and showing me methods of acknowledging it and overcoming it. David helped in this, as the ever-gracious accepting and loving person that he was and remains. When he stepped down as co-chair, I took his place.
Racism is something that is in the blood. My entire birth family told racist (and sexist, homophobic, and xenophobic) jokes constantly. There were few black people in my home town. No wonder I picked up some horrid attitudes in my youth.
My journey has consisted of acknowledging this past, so I'll begin here by telling a story on myself that's pretty pathetic. When I was young, my mother, when a knock came at the door, would say: "If you're free, white, and 21, come on in." This was a common saying at the time and had to do with bars and gambling, I think. However, when working in the Registrar's Office at Columbia, someone knocked at a door and I repeated this sentence of my mom's. Later on, I was told that a black fellow worker had been found crying in the Ladies' Room over it.
I'm not proud of this, of course. I hate it while I tell it. However, journeys begin with a single step, and acknowledging these attitudes in myself is the first step in combating racism in myself. It's something that's a constant task, each and every day, and which requires continual tending and vigilance. This task brings out the best in a person, in some ways, since self-awareness is a powerful tool in self-betterment. I'm no saint, but I'm less of a sinner than before, which is all to the good.
Traveling? As a result of being the co-chair of MACT/New York, I got myself invited to the Chicago chapter, which was debating whether its name should be changed from BWMT/Chicago to MACT/Chicago. I was the guest of Ken Allen, the national treasurer of BWMT, at his home on Sheridan Road. It was the first time I'd ever been out of the Eastern time zone.
I still remember changing my watch at the beginning of the flight, and the gracious welcome Ken afforded me (he even traveled out to O'Hare to welcome me personally). Was my trip a success? I attended a meeting of BWMT/Chicago and defended the change to MACT in such a way that later on they did change their name. And here was another turning point: I became aware that there was a world outside New York and that it was possible to see and experience more of it.
Quantime had a client in Chicago: MarketFacts, one of the largest market and opinion research companies in the country. I spoke to a former co-worker from Thor who had ended up there (at their New York office), and he set up an interview for me there. So, I travelled to Chicago for a second time, interviewed, and was offered a job in July or August, 1991. So I had to pack up, say goodbye to all my friends in New York, and arrange to be moved to Chicago. All this I did (although I'm not proud of the mess I left in the apartment in the Bronx. Five floors down was just too far down to take the amount of stuff I needed to throw away). I took an apartment in the same building as Ken, on Sheridan and Foster, and began to settle in.
At this time MarketFacts was using a home-grown product (FactTab) to do most of their tabulation, so I learned that, then began to spearhead the conversion of the company's tabs to Quantum. This involved hiring people, retraining their current staff, and doing a bit of tabulation on my own.
I also settled in to my new home, made friends, joined the local MACT chapter, and started editing its newsletter. Lots of fun.
It was in March 1992 that I met my second boyfriend, Sam Knight. I had met him the first time I was in Chicago, but it didn't stick. However, the second time we met, we clicked, and Sam moved in with me (bringing his cat) soon after. Sam was a bit younger than I was, very suave, handsome, and a good boyfriend. However, the inequality of our relationship again made it difficult to grow the relationship. However, he stayed with me throughout my life in Chicago and on to the next venue.
Religiously, I went to a meeting of the remnant of Integrity/Chicago. They were a bit burned out, and needed some new ideas and some "out-of-the-box" thinking. I agreed to become Convener (i.e., the Chairperson) and start thinking about rejuvenation. They had been meeting at the Cathedral of St. James downtown. However, I thought it might be a good idea to meet closer to Boystown (the gay area around Halsted north of Belmont). We secured the use of St. Peter's Episcopal Church on Belmont just west of Broadway, and began services there. But, later on I thought that perhaps there was a gay audience further out. Oak Park had become noted for its large lesbian and gay community. Religiously, much of it centred around Grace Episcopal Church on Lake Street. I spoke to the Rector there, and we began holding services out there in June or July of 1992. Integrity membership and attendance soared. I was interviewed for the local newspaper. I consider serving Integrity/Chicago as one of my proudest achievements.
My parish home was All Saints Ravenswood. This was a very gay-friendly church, but a bit tatty around the edges in a neighbourhood which was seeing better days but hadn't actually gotten fully on its feet. I settled right in, and became a part of the vestry as well as a server. Unfortunately, the financial state of the church was parlous, and this culminated in the parish becoming a mission (supported by the diocese). The rector was replaced by a Vicar, a female priest. She has done wonders for the parish and is still there (11 years later, now a Rector!) keeping the church in fine shape and making it embody the Episcopal Church's unofficial motto: "The Episcopal Church Welcomes You."
When I took the job at MarketFacts, the venues I would be working in were downtown Chicago near Northwestern University, and Oak Park, a nearby suburb to the west with an El connection to Chicago. Each of these commutes were pretty good. However, my new boss had told me that the whole company was moving to Arlington Heights, a northwest suburb with poor commuter connections. I was assured that MarketFacts was going to have the local bus company put on a special MarketFacts commuter bus just for those who couldn't drive. When the move was finally made, we were all apprehensive, but the bus situation made it worse. It ended up a two-hour commute each way for me, involving four different buses or El trains. This was exhausting. So, I decided to learn to drive.
The lessons and the test weren't too difficult, but I found that I was a terrible driver. My theory is that reflexes early in the teenage years are ripe for development of the skills which make a good driver. However, by the time you're 39, these reflexes were harder to develop. Besides, I was a nervous driver. The first time I drove alone to work, I did it on a Saturday to make it easier to do. I got lost twice, and by the time I got to Arlington Heights I was so nervous I was shaking, and couldn't get out of the car for 10 minutes or so. I knew right away that I'd have to admit defeat and go work someplace close to a decent transportation system.
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