In the beginning...

Some say it began in Africa.  For me, it began in Portugal.  Let me correct that - Little Portugal.  To be even more specific, a six-apartment house in Fall River, Massachusetts where only one apartment was inhabited while the other five remained neglected.  I wish I had a good enough memory to remember exact dates, but too much of this stuff is probably what caused the brain damage and memory loss that plagues me to this day.  Let's just say that sometime in early 1995 is when a little Portuguese woman introduced me to what can only be explained as my nectar for the next 15 years of my life.  I am talking about "Lady", the little Portuguese woman who owned this six-apartment building with her husband and two daughters.  Lady drank Carlo Rossi Burgundy like it was going out of style, which I can assure you that Carlo Rossi Burgundy would never go out of style if I had anything to do with it.  I bet she single-handedly kept Carlo Rossi Winery in business.  It turns out that Lady would order this stuff by the case and have it delivered to her bakery that she owned and ran with her family.  Having it delivered to her work place saved her time and energy by not having to go to a package store and lug it into work where it would be served to anyone privileged enough to be asked into the back area.  I'm sure it also prevented the neighbors from gossiping about how much of a lush this family truly was.  Soon I discovered that she started her daily dose of Burgundy bright and early at 3 am.  I had found my idol.

1994-1995:

It was my senior year in high school.  Senioritis had set in with just about everyone in my class.  No one took anything that seriously.  College applications were being filled out.  You know, senior stuff.  Well, that fall semester, I started dating a girl named Jill.  Then we soon broke up for what can only be described as "unexplained reasons".  You know, "It's not you, it's me".  Turned out that that was a perfectly good explanation.  Read on...  

One day in early December, there was a buzz in the hallways at school.  People were crying and being consoled by friends.  What the hell was going on?  It turned out that our friend Marc had died in a car accident the day before.  His car ran into a bridge abutment on his way home after school.  He died soon after due to his injuries.  Needless to say, this was an extremely sad time for the class of 95.  This sounds so weird to me when I think this, but soon after Marc died, a light bulb went off in my head.  I had figured out what those thoughts were trying to tell me.  I had finally figured out that I was a gay.  Yes.  A gay.  But don't expect me to really acknowledge that to myself or anyone else for a bit.  To this day, I look at Marc's death as THE turning point in my life.  Marc had this way about him that made people either love him or hate him.  Personally I didn't know what to think of him, but I knew he was a lot of things that I wished I was.  Marc was outgoing.  I wasn't.  Marc was popular.  I wasn't.  Marc was a risk-taker.  I wasn't.  Marc was also the only out person (that I knew of) at school.  I had these "crazy" thoughts in my head at the time just swirling around driving me crazy, but I couldn't figure out completely what they were trying to tell me.  It sounds so selfish to me when I think this, but after seeing some of the stuff that he endured, and then him dying at such a young age was the event in my life that made me realize everything.  I gained a lot of strength in Marc's death.  I wasn't close to him at all, but was a silent fan of his.  I just didn't know it at the time.

In the fall semester of my senior year, I had a wonderfully boring class with an equally boring teacher named Mrs. Lynch, whose catch phrase was "Isn't it?".  This class is what brought the "Little Bitch" into my life, otherwise known to many others simply as Sue.  Sue was someone to be admired.  She didn't walk around trying to fit in with any group.  She also had this ginormous braid on her head that went down to her butt.  Sue had this mystique about her that I just could not figure out - and still does to this day.  Ask me about her, I can't tell you anything for sure, other than she's probably enjoying a drink somewhere.  I hate to admit it, but if it weren't for Mrs. Lynch, Sue and I might not have become such good friends.  Having to endure the 86th "Isn't it?" on any day during our Advanced Algebra class was enough to make anyone share war stories throughout each class (well, those that Sue actually attended anyway).  We became good friends during that class, which prompted Mrs. Lynch to separate our seats because we were to disruptive.  The nerve!  It turns out that about six years later, I ended up being Mrs. Lynch's long-term substitute when I got out of college.  Strange how things turn out, ISN'T IT?

One day, while walking toward the ramp that headed to the Theater/Art/Vocational Tech wing of B.M.C. Durfee High School, I see this head with a huge braid heading down the ramp.  I was wondering why Sue was heading that way.  She didn't take any theater or art class, and she certainly wasn't in machine shop (although I'm sure she would have excelled in such a class).  I stopped her and asked her where she was going.  She said she was going to her car for lunch.  That said lunch ended up being a six-pack of beer.  I knew instantly that I had found someone I really liked.  

My friendship with Sue didn't blossom for some time.  After Marc died, a lot of people seemed to become closer (or maybe I thought that's what was happening around me because I was making a bunch of new friends).  My good friend Christelle was friends with a lot of people, and it turned out that she was very good friends with Sue.  Slowly, I became friends with a wider array of people that I felt comfortable to around.  (Remember, I was just figuring out that I was a gay.)  One night, while we were driving around - probably doing stuff we shouldn't be doing - we stopped at one of the Dunkin Donuts on "The Ave." (that's Plymouth Avenue to all you people who don't know Fall River points of interest).  On that particular evening, I was extremely bent out of shape.  I didn't know what to think about myself and whatever it was going on in my head, never mind what I should order (although I'm relatively sure it was a bagel with sausage and cheese).  Then Sue said it.  Those two words that made absolute sense about everything that was swirling around in my head.  "You're gay."  Wow, did that hit me like a ton of bricks.  She instantly became the person that I knew I could trust, although, it turns out that she's a helluva liar.  But in a good way.  (I didn't mean to go off on a tangent here, but this very special moment in my life was what applied the glue in our friendship, which in turn would lead to the beginning of my life WITH wine.)  

Eventually, I got to meet Sue's mom, who turned out to be absolutely crazy at that time (at least to us anyway).  She was extremely controlling over her two daughters, not allowing them to go anywhere or do anything.  Sue's sister had an out though.  College.  But poor Sue was left at home to endure her mother's out-of-control, um, control over her family.  Sue did some things and pulled some stunts (not going to go into it) and eventually the spell was broken.  Sue was free to do anything she wanted, at least in her mind.  There was nothing Lady could do about it because she needed Sue and her completely unreliable ass, especially at the bakery, where Sue would show up whenever the hell she wanted.  One night, though, after another night of doing stuff we probably shouldn't have been doing, we were dropping Sue off at home in the wee hours of the morning.  And who was waiting on the porch, probably packing heat to get rid of her good-for-nothing, bad-influence friends?  Lady.  I never knew Lady had red eyes and breathed fire.  This 4'11" woman was definitely a force to be reckoned with.  We all genuinely feared her.  Soon though, we would make peace and become great friends.  And soon after, Carlo Rossi Burgundy would be introduced into my life by the red-eyed, fire breathing Lady, and immediately this very special bond began to form between the three of us - Carlo Rossi, Lady, and myself.  

The End...of the beginning.