This is the story of how Emery Walters became whom he was supposed to be.<br><br>I knew I was male at an early age, something that was a societal no-no in the 1950s and still is in parts of the country today. Burying my male identity, I strove to be the best woman possible. But after raising my four wonderful children from two debilitating marriages, I found myself alone and nearly penniless. That was when Emery asserted his identity.<br><br>Life became better with the shift from female to male, a third marriage, and a wife who, herself, transitioned from male to female.

Some Fine Day

At that time, I had no idea why or how ‘finding your own type’ was done. (Well duh there was only one of my type, as far as I know.) I insisted, however, that anyone who wanted to could and did sit with us at lunch. There was one girl, S., who may have been autistic, or even ‘special’ as it is called now, who was nonetheless in the grade below me (where I would have been had I not skipped third grade), and she sat with us. I’m not sure how much we included her in the conversation, but looking back, we didn’t have much in common with her, and she really never spoke to anyone. But she sat with us, because I made sure she did. And I think I must have brought that dynamic to the planet with me, for we didn’t really act that way—inclusive—at home. I think you have to be different, an outsider, to ‘get it’.


Chapter 11