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

But that isn’t happening. Even as older/wiser/been there/done that, I have no one in person in the past near twenty years of being myself, who has needed/wanted/let me ‘in’. Straight young people, many of whom I am grateful to call my friends. Gay ones, or gay ones of any age; nobody near enough to have a coffee with. One I met, a newcomer, who disliked me enough to never call again. Being available to help others who teach or mentor young trans or gay kids? No one has ever reached out to me for what I could do to help, or for what I might have to offer. Does it hurt? Take a wild stab at it. Maybe there is something else to me, more, that I have not yet found, that ‘my tribe’ sense, or maybe I’m just a dick.


Chapter 110