Columnists :: Life In The Slow Lane
Going around again by Judah Leblang
contributing writerMonday Jul 19, 2010 Back in the late 1970s I had a secret crush on Livingston Taylor, James’s less-well-known but more handsome brother. On an album he put out in 1978, "Liv" sang a song called "Going Round One More Time." The catchy tune was about getting caught up in lust over and over again. My love life, in contrast to Livingston’s, has been quiet (non-existent) lately. But in other areas of my life, I do notice myself traveling down well-worn paths, and circling around familiar places.
During the late 1990s and early 2000s I was deeply involved at Temple Beth Zion, a progressive synagogue in Brookline. I got so connected I actually sat on the board for several years, something neither my Jewish family nor I would ever have predicted, given my non-observant nature. Over time, I became so familiar with the Friday night service that I almost had it memorized; the initial novelty of the exotic hymns and rituals now felt dry and lifeless. Many of my friends in the congregation got married and had children, or moved away. I realized that I would need to reach out to new people -- those I didn’t know -- within the community and to develop more social connections. I knew, too, that if I wanted to continue to feel some excitement about my rediscovered sense of Judaism and my place within it, I would need to study, to actively learn about this faith that seemed to provide no easy answers. I moved on instead, but wondered if I were taking the easy way out, as is my wont.
Around the same time I went to an annual conference for gay men at the Ferry Beach Unitarian Conference Center in Saco, Maine. GAYLA was -- and still is -- a volunteer/peer-run organization that brings together a group of men for a week of fun and spiritual growth on the coast of Maine. On my first visit in the summer of 2000, I nervously drove up to the center and shyly walked over to the registration table, wondering how I might fit in to this large group, most of who seemed to know each other. A few years later I was leading creative writing and yoga classes and co-hosting the annual talent show. But once again, the organization changed, or I did, or both, and after five years, I decided that I’d "been there, done that" and drifted away.
In the last month I’ve found myself back at temple, and back at Ferry Beach, too. Temple Beth Zion, where the members were always fundamentally accepting of me as a gay man, had recently formed a committee, spearheaded by a small group of LGBT members and their allies, to make the synagogue a more welcoming place. Part of their new focus on gay concerns was the first "Erev (eve of) Pride" service one Friday night last month. After the service, I was given the opportunity to share some stories from my book, Finding My Place, which deals both with my childhood growing up in the Midwest and my experiences as a middle-aged gay man living in Boston today. Both before and after my reading, many folks, some of whom I barely knew, came up and welcomed me back to the community. In some ways, though many of the faces had changed, I felt I was coming home.
Then last Saturday I went back to Ferry Beach for the first time in six years. Two men, friends of mine who had met at GAYLA back in 2001, were going to be married there in a morning service. I drove up, looking forward to the wedding, but not thinking much about what I’d learned and gathered from my years at the conference. It wasn’t until I had almost reached the center that the beauty of the place came back to me -- the cool blue water, the tall groves of trees, the relaxed beach-town feel of the surrounding neighborhood. As I joined some old friends for the outdoor ceremony, I was reminded that much of what I have in Boston today -- several of my best friends, my connection with Arlington Street Church, where I’ve found a sense of spiritual community with other gay men, and increased confidence in my ability to teach and speak publicly -- came directly from my time at GAYLA.
The wedding ceremony itself, held in an outdoor chapel surrounded by pine trees, was sweet and informal, a reflection of the two grooms, who have seemed so right together since they first met at Ferry Beach years ago. After the ceremony and cake cutting, I went down to the beach, and swam in the chilly (but not frigid) water. GAYLA 2010 was beginning that evening, and participants were streaming in for their week at the shore. Before heading back to Boston, I visited with some of them, most of whom I had not seen in years.
Today, I’m planning to rejoin the temple, even while I maintain my links with Arlington Street Church. I’m thinking too, of returning to GAYLA, of coming back to Maine next year. Am I simply repeating myself, moving closer and then drifting away, pulsing like the ocean waves? Am I ’going round one more time’ for no particular reason?
I’m still not sure of the answers. I only know that as I grow older, I’m learning -- slowly -- that sometimes going home feels like the right thing to do.
Judah Leblang is a writer, teacher and storyteller based in Boston. He can be reached at judah@judahleblang.com
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