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

I think I’d like some gratitude for having been who I was *supposed to be* all those years. I’d like to know it was worthwhile, appreciated, that there was a reason for it and a point to it, but maybe nobody gets to know that. Maybe it’s not just a transgender issue.


I’ve been writing all this while listening to the Complin Service on the radio; how appropriate, a half hour of the church of my childhood with all the familiarity of being a girl-child standing next to her family of origin, dysfunctions and all. The happy early years of my childhood were spent in Sunday School, not the church, so my memories of church are from puberty onward, when I became very depressed and unhappy with what was happening to me, so this is very mellow and timely.


Chapter 78