Odds and Land’s End
I’m here sitting at my cottage in Ptown - or Land’s End, as Michael Cunningham’s book about his love of the place is called. My dog, Archie, and Brandon, the kid I’ve mentored for the last five years who always comes for a week-long visit with me every summer, are, thankfully, asleep on my sofa so I have a few minutes to myself right now. I went down to Manhattan on the day the tornado hit Brooklyn to pick up Brandon and bring him back up here. It’s always a week I have to buck up for because by the fourth or fifth day of his visit after having to be both motherly and fatherly toward him, I have to admit I want to strangle him when my patience, not fatherly or motherly at all, begins to wear thin. On the way up here I was already so frazzled by keeping him in check as we traveled that I lost my cellphone either on the Amtrak train or in the station in Boston when we stopped to eat a sandwich on the way to the ferry to Ptown. And last night when there was no hot water after his shower and this morning after I went to the bathroom and discovered he’d used all the toilet tissue and there was no more in the cottage, my patience, alas, was already beginning to fray even before the first 48 hours were over. I say all that just to let you know though I know mentoring a street kid from the wilds of Brooklyn can be construed as an altruistic endeavor, one still can have emotions that aren’t altruistic when in the midst of the reality of the mentoring is taking place. But I told Brandon when I first met him through an organization called The Family Center that I would be in his life at least until he’s 18. I’ve grown to love him and there is an emotional intimacy - call it family-like- when we’re together. We do know each other very well after five years - he’ll be 13 this week and I’m throwing him a birthday party. But he sure can drive me crazy at times. My hat goes off to mothers and fathers who do this 24/7. Although, I do think it’s a bit more stressful for someone like me who mentors a kid and is entrusted with his safety for a week. One is extra vigilant to make sure nothing happens to harm the child. There is a low-grade stress that by the end of the week ain’t so low-grade. Brandon would strangle me himself if he knew I used the word “ain’t” in that sentence since I get to slap his shoulder every time he uses it in my presence. (He just woke up and I read him all that and got his permission to keep it in my post so I’m not talking behind his already sunburned back.)
While down in New York for a couple of days before picking up Brandon, I had a meeting with the great marketing team at Picador, the trade paperback publisher of Mississippi Sissy (watch for it in March 2008). They were Darin Keesler, the Marketing Director, and Lisa Mondello, the Senior Publicist, and Tanya Farrell, the Director of Publicity, as well as Picador’s publisher, the - how to describe someone as singular as she? - daringly smart (as in deeply chic and keenly intelligent) Frances Coady. I also was photographed for the upcoming OUT 100 December issue by French photographer Francois Rousseau. I was shot with Will Schwalbe, the editor-in-chief of Hyperion and co-author of Send: The Essential Guide to Email. I had talked about Will a lot the first of the summer with my old buddy, Larry Kramer, who was visiting Ptown, since Will is also the sturdy soul who is going to edit Larry’s eagerly awaited 3000 page opus which encompasses all of gay American history - “his own Scheherazade” according to Will. The night before the photo shoot and Picador meeting, I had a catch-up dinner with my dear friend - emphasis on the dear - Tim Tompkins, who runs the Times Square Business District. Tim is also a sailor - he’s been chartering sails on his new sailboat this summer in the Hudson - and a newly certified yoga instructor. He’s an inspiration. He’s even got a new boyfriend, an architect from Nigeria. An architect from Nigeria? Now that sounds deeply chic and keenly intelligent.
Also an inspiration to me are two writers of books I read the last few weeks in manuscript form. The first was an upcoming book from St. Martins that was sent to me to blurb. It’s called Memoir of a Beautiful Boy by Robert Leleux, a recent grad of Sarah Lawrence. I’ll just paraphrase my blurb for you since I loved it: Memoir of a Beautiful Boy is in a word just that: beautiful. It is both hilarious and heartbreaking. Robert Leleux, whose talent is as big as his home state of Texas, is more than a survivor, he is, with this glory of a book, triumphant. The other manuscript was an early draft of a novel, Everybody’s Everything, by Natasha Fraser-Cavassoni. (She’s the daughter of historian Lady Antonia Fraser and the step-daughter of Nobel Prize winning playwright Sir Harold Pinter.) The novel takes place in the highest echelons of the fashion world of Paris, where Natasha lives. I gave her one of her first jobs when I hired her as my assistant when I was Executive Editor of Andy Warhol’s Interview. She was but a girl back then but now she is an amazing woman with twin girls who went on to be the Paris editor of W and then the Paris editor of Harper’s Bazaar. Her biography of legendary Hollywood producer Sam Spiegel was a critical and commercial success. And now she has written this wordly, emotionally complex novel. If I were an editor I’d scoop it up in a hot second.
And finally, before I went down to Manhattan last week, I was riding my bike down Commercial Street here in Ptown and rode by a big, gangly handsome young guy with a cute little kid in tow. For some reason I knew he was Tony Perkins son. Don’t ask me why. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of him - maybe somewhere I did and it stuck with me but I have no memory of it. It was as if Tony swept through on a sea breeze and whispered to me, “That’s my boy. Stop your bike. Say something to him.” I did stop the bike. I turned around and said, “Excuse me, is your last name Perkins?” He looked shocked. “Yes,” he said. “Are you Osgood or Elvis?” I asked, naming Tony’s two sons he talked about all the time to me when I was in Equus with him almost 30 years ago when they were as small as the child that was in tow. “I”m Os,” he said. I told him I was in Equus with his father and that Tony talked about his brother and him all the time. “You’re dad really loved you,” I said. “I just wanted to let you know that. You were loved.” The shock in his eyes at being stopped on the street by a total stranger disappeared and a misty-eyed gratefulness replaced it. I rode on and suddenly remembered reading that his mother, Berry Berenson, who was killed in the Boston-to-LA flight that was crashed into the World Trade Center, had a home close by over in Truro. He must still summer there. Maybe it was she who had wafted through my consciousness on Commercial. As I was locking up my bike, I caught a glimpse of him putting an arm around his own son. The Land’s End light encircled them - a kind of spectral glow, fatherly and motherly at the same time - and seemed to lead them along.
August 12th, 2007 at 3:29 pm
Kevin: Beautiful last few posts. When you wrote about your young charge-for-a-week it brought back memories of my first and only enchanted visit to P-town, and meeting the two young charges and you on the ferry to Boston. They were intense, and fun! (I recall your bemused kvetchings about herding up two boys - the exhaustion)! My second time in Boston I caught your reading at Calamus, and bought the book. It is something to savour - rich and delicious. If you every feel like giving a reading in Vancouver, beautiful British Columbia, I’m sure you’d have many appreciative readers.
All the best…
Diane
August 13th, 2007 at 10:05 am
Kevin- I really enjoy your posts! My I also add that perhaps you could add Lexington, KY to any future reading tours? There are lot of southern “sissies” here, too!
Best regards, Stephen
August 13th, 2007 at 3:38 pm
It seems everything I read that you have written strikes a chord somewhere deep inside. A sweet, sad place. A dangerous place, if I camp there too long. I find your entries here as beautiful as your book. And I wish you continued and ever increasing success.
Blessings,
Eric
August 13th, 2007 at 5:51 pm
Dear Mr. Sessums,
I love you man… I just finished reading MISSISSIPPI SISSY and my heart is broken and raw. So many things I can relate to in your book… so many secrets forgotten and burried. Thank you for telling your story.
I am humbled by your story and yet feel connected to you like a brother.
Your experiance with coming out (to yourself), internally fighting with organized religion, and weaving it all through our pop-culture landscape AND SO MUCH MORE…
I am a 40 year old Gay Elementary Art teacher. I have a partner of ten years. I have been active as both a visual and performing artist.
The last three words of your book came so quickly, catching me off gaurd with the sudden completeness of your message… what it’s all about… I cried at having to say goodbye to you. I was relieved to find you here on the web. I will look forward to reading your blog.
If you have the time or inclination I would love to hear a word back from you.
Your Friend even though we’ve never met,
Jeff
August 14th, 2007 at 8:22 am
Kevin, just listen to all the folks out there who continue to be profoundly touched by your story.
Reading of your committment to Brandon throughout the downright miserable moments of parenting brought back memories of those same emotions with our three kids. There were many nights (and weeks!) when I felt overwhelmed by the exhausting responsibility of mentoring and nurturing my contribitions to the next generation. It’s a serious job and kudos to you and Brandon for all you’ve learned from each other over the years. Your emotions are so beautifully expressed that I think you should do a story for a parenting magazine!
Kennedy flies in tonight after six weeks in Japan; can’t wait to see him. But he has only one night here and then off to senior year in college, where did the time go?!
I am so glad to hear that Sissy will be out in paperback (easier to lug around the globe for those hostess gifts:)
My mother is visiting and cooking all her southern comfort food.
She says hi. Last night when we were going through some old scrapbooks I found a large black and white photo of you, me, Jan and Alan in Central Park, 1980, all posed EATING FRIED CHICKEN except for you who was slouching sexily toward the camera nursing a Lite beer. You are 24 I guess and SOOOOO beautiful. Hell we all were.
Lots of love, Diane
August 14th, 2007 at 4:41 pm
and I a grandmom of a beautiful Dylan kade
& you the writer and many things
who can write of bikes and {sun}light and roads
and they envelop us seems like each & every time
August 14th, 2007 at 4:44 pm
jan ramsey and alan forbes?
August 14th, 2007 at 7:15 pm
Dear Kevin,
Another marvelous blog.
Nothing wrong with being overwhelmed and expressing the emotions that go along with it. The irony of parenting is that when you are going through that period when they no longer want to hang out with you, you’d give anything to have some of those “in your face” moments back.
No matter how impossible it becomes, stay connected. There’s rarely a day that goes by now that I don’t get a phonecall from one of my “kids” (now 38 & 34) and it makes all the difference.
Looking forward to the December issue of “OUT”..and your glorious mug.
Cheers,
Gary
Sounds like the Universe orchestrated another magical moment with your “chance”meeting of Tony’s son and grandson–for all of you.
August 15th, 2007 at 11:53 pm
I’m so happy that you’re posting regularly again. During your hiatus, I got out of the habit of looking for the latest post. I’d run across your bookmark and think, Oh, him. Reading you again, I realize that I was missing these updates.
Glad to hear about the forthcoming paperback edition of MS, too.
August 16th, 2007 at 10:18 pm
Hi Kevin,
i just finished reading your book. amazing.
I remember meeting you at a christmas party given by M. Oliver in Jackson,Ms. many years ago, about late 1980’s. I knew nothing of your story then.
I hope you are living in happiness and surrounded in love everyday of your life.
Roger Broadway
August 16th, 2007 at 10:40 pm
ran across a pretty photo, 1973 the Medium at new stage
August 17th, 2007 at 12:40 am
I just finished your book and had to find you to tell you how much I loved it. Even though I am a straight, spoiled southern belle- we have a lot in common. Dare I? That’s all I had to say- it was just wonderful.
August 17th, 2007 at 2:24 am
Your blogs are so richly nostalgic, as well as here and now cutting edge, I treasure each sentence. I especially liked your thoughts on Tennessee Williams and your comments about the young actors. The almost mystic exchange between you and Tony Perkins’ son gave me chill bumps.
Thanks for continuing to share your delightful writing with your loyal following!
August 21st, 2007 at 6:29 pm
Good day Kevin, I apologize if this is the incorrect place to ask for additional information, but I have become frustrated. Following listening to your NPR interview recently, I purchased your book. I also have been attempting to find additional information on the murder of Frank Hains. I love learning about forensics and murder mysteries. However, the story of Frank Hains and the subsequent murder of his jailed assailant seem to elude all Mississippi homicide records. I have been unable to find anything on-line concerning the man, his life and his tragic death. I would appreciate any links that you may be aware of and have them sent to the beforementioned email.
Thank you for your time,
Justin W. Lake
Goodyear, Arizona
October 15th, 2007 at 1:51 pm
Just finished your book. Could not find it locally so got it through Ebay…the copy I got had obviously been in a library in Colorado…and was stamped in big red letters “REMOVED FROM CIRCULATION”…meaning it had been BANNED. What a bunch of buffoons still exist…particularly in in the Arapapoe District Public Library. Thanks for a good read Mr. Sessums.