Aperçu: Contemptible

At the end of a long chain of thinking — about Gay Pride, as it happens — occasioned by the wonderful Quebecois film C.R.A.Z.Y., I realized that my adoptive mother was a contemptible human being.

She was not at all a bad person, and most people found her attractive. I want to be clear about that. But she preferred the intelligence of the people around her to be as limited as her own. She hated “intellect,” which was the only thing that I had to offer. I’m not saying that I was very bright, but she hated my trying to be.

What I’ve just said describes most people, I’m afraid. I should never have objected to this characteristic of my mother’s if I had loved her. But my worrying about being a defective human being because I didn’t love her — and I didn’t, ever, although I wanted to — is another story. Nearly thirty years of life and love with Kathleen have made it possible for me to write this paragraph.

There we are, then: She was contemptible. 

This is the Gay Pride confession/acknowledgment/truth-telling that I want to make.