Brothers in a Snowstorm

One of the best fall vacations I ever took was in October 2007 with my older brother, Martin. We decided to go camping somewhere in my favorite state of Colorado, and after some research, Colorado State Forest State Park emerged as our destination. (pictured left, a view just north of North Michigan Reservoir; 10/17/07)

This trip was exciting for several reasons. First, I only see Martin once every 4 years on average... and it provided a bonding moment for two somewhat distant brothers. Second, I had never been north of Alamosa, CO, and this would certainly be a new adventure for me. Last, I was desperate to get out of Texas and into "soon-to-be blue state" territory.

In a way, I also suspected that this was going to be a difficult trip in that I have not formally come out to him yet... and over the years, he's asked in roundabout ways. The road trip would be nearly 17 hours, and I dreaded sitting behind the wheel and listening to him beat around the bush until every leaf was gone -- branches exposed for what they are.

Sure enough, along the way, he took over the wheel just north of Amarillo, TX on Hwy 87. Despite the planned route laid out beforehand, we ended up on an extended tour of Oklahoma. Out in the middle of nowhere and tired from driving, I fell victim to discussions about anything from "why would two dudes want to get married" to the movie Brokeback Mountain.

If I had mentioned Martin in my Solar System Relationships Part I posting, I'd be the sun, and his orbit would be as distant as Saturn... maybe even Uranus. Long ago, I conceded that despite wonderful experiences such as this camping trip, his orbit would never be any closer -- and confirming what he probably already knows simply serves no purpose. My personal life just doesn't run close enough to his for such intimate details to come to light. Plus, all I can think about is how many times he's tried to hook me up with women -- not to see me happy, but to quench some insatiable thirst to peel away any mysteries about me.

As we drove along CO Hwy 14 closer and closer to our destination, I thought about the last time I told a female that I was gay. I had somehow made my way into her heart, and she didn't take it very well when I realized that I needed to nip this thing in the bud. She took a sleeping pill or ten -- maybe 12, I don't remember exactly how many -- but it was a very difficult hospital visit, and I've never liked hospitals since. The fact that you never know how those close to you will react to learning something new certainly hit home with me, and that experience always makes me think twice about confirming what Martin may already know on some level.

So we arrived at the park on a dark Monday night. The temperature was hovering at 7 degrees, and we were shocked to discover that our flashlights decided not to work in Colorado. We tried putting the tent together under the most beautiful star-laden sky I had ever seen, but our fingers were stiffening quickly -- and this was a new tent that we had to purchase back in Colorado Springs hours earlier.

Thinking fast, we decided to turn the car on and try to get the blasted thing up while the headlights were on. But, someone from a cabin across the lake didn't like that idea, and waved a flashlight beam at us from afar. We quickly finished up and settled into our arctic chamber for the night. This was a difficulty that we weathered without argument, and it was overcome surprisingly fast.

The next day, his liquor tooth was throbbing, and quite frankly, so was mine. While he fished for our first taste of trout, I volunteered to make the drive into Walden for provisions. After I returned, he'd already made his first few catches. As he became mesmerized by his fishing expedition, I figured I'd go up the road for some firewood.

I meandered up the snowy passage to the primitive campsites and parked the vehicle. I searched for some downed trees, branches, anything of value -- but came up empty-handed. So, I got back into the vehicle and tried to make a hasty exit. However, she wouldn't budge. The back wheel had settled into the snow and mud, and mind you, these campsites were not on a level grade. In fact, a cliff was waiting for me just 20 yards away, and I could swear the car inched towards it the more I tried to escape.

I searched frantically for some rocks and luckily found them in abundance. I used them for anchors and traction -- getting myself out of that jam in roughly 20 minutes, and just as a snowstorm made an abrupt entrance.

Other than those small mishaps, we enjoyed our time in the snow. The trout was excellent, and even Dirk and Yani got treated to the doggie royal gourmet. I eventually found the visitor's station and purchased some firewood... fuel for a campfire that we thoroughly enjoyed -- during the first snowstorm I ever sat out in and drank beer.

On the way home, I wrestled with the decision whether or not to tell Martin about my sexuality. To this day, I still have not confirmed his suspicions... and I can't get the sleeping pill girl out of my mind when I ponder about telling Martin. Something inside of me sounds an alarm that Martin will not take this very well at all... and it would be another cross of guilt to carry for the rest of my life. Why should I be obligated to tell him?

Nowadays, shouldn't people be coming out of the closet by revealing that they are straight? After all, you can't prove 100% that anyone is. One night in the sack with the opposite sex means nothing. One night in the sack with someone of the same sex means everything.