I want to take you back to my youth and share a different kind of story with you. It is not a sex story, it is a type of love story, but it is also a very tragic story… but if you are up to it, it is a story that I think we all need to hear about sometimes. The 70’s were a simpler time, my youthfulness, my lack of knowledge about love and loss… You see love does not understand the restraints of age, our hearts however young do not know the way of the world, but what we feel is what we experience. I chose to try and share this story from a comment that was left on another story I very recently posted… it was about a young love, so if you can and want to bear with me and join me, hold on tight and get ready... it was not the easiest to write.

If you can picture or at least imagine a mid-day summer sky in July or August in Texas… then you will know the color blue, I talk about when I talk about Dusty’s blue eyes… I could sit for hours and just stare into them. Of course, his adorable smile did not help, well did not help in the way you just could not stare at him. His dirty blonde hair was always a bit of a mop on his head, but it looked like a stylist had just carefully placed each strand in just the perfect place, it was the late 70’s and his hair was long and shaggy as was in that time. He stood all of maybe 5 foot 3 inches tall, if he weighed 95 lbs. it was because he was wet and holding a bag of potatoes. At this juncture in my own life, I was probably 5 foot 8 inches myself and weighed around 120 lbs. He was two years younger than me and had just recently moved to my hometown, he was the stepbrother to one of the guys that had been in our school off and on over the years.

Greg, his stepbrother was in my class, they lived on the outskirts of town and on the outskirts of our school district. Greg changed schools back and forth because he could, take advantage of living on the border of two school districts. Greg and I never really got a long, rumors of me being you know different, actually back then they just referred to me being “a fucking queer”. So, Greg and I left each other a fairly wide berth.

Dusty moved into town around May of that year and was not going to be starting school with us until the fall. I lived about a block from our small hometown school and most everyone that did not drive to class would walk past our house when school was out every day. The advantage to living so close to the school and to our so-called downtown was you got to see everyone out and about and anyone new stuck out pretty much… now take that obvious fact and the description of Dusty, from above… trust me, I noticed him. Now I know this story is about my youth and it is not a sexual story… but even at a young age you know when you are looking at a truly handsome young man, or as was the case at the time, I was looking at a super cutie!

I sometimes feel that being gay, especially back in those days, meant you had to be like a CIA field agent… you were on an undercover operation all the time, you had to figure out ways to gain intel without everyone knowing what it was you really wanted to know. The moment I saw Dusty the first time, it was my new mission to figure out the who, what, when why and how… I really wanted to know who this was and why he was in my hometown. It did not take long for me to find out that he had just moved here from up north and that he was a new stepbrother to, oh lord, Greg. It unfortunately took almost 3 weeks to actually get to meet him. Through a friend of a friend kind of thing. It was into June and summer was upon us… the day we met, he was wearing a pair of white shorts, knee high white socks, and a blue, white and yellow stripped short sleeve shirt. When we were introduced, that is when I saw those eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes… I just stood there staring into them and oh my god, even at my age and he at his… there was something there, an almost spiritual connection. There were several of us there on the school grounds playing that afternoon, but almost immediately after meeting Dusty I do not really remember anyone being around except he and I. For the next few weeks, we were with each other, all day, every day from early in the morning till sundown and us both having to be home. We ran, rode bikes, swam in the bayou… swam in the bayou… holy shit, what a wondrous sight to see… Dusty in nothing but a 70’s style baby blue swimming trunks and nothing but… he was a vision, like Leonardo Da Vinci was ready to sculp him next… and those damn baby blue trunks. Have you ever had an image burned into your brain so deeply rooted that you know there was never a chance of losing that image… yes? I have, oh god I have… and yes you guessed it, it was Dusty in those baby blue trunks. Hell, even after all these years, I swear I can still see the water droplets running down his chest and stomach… okay, I think you might have a small concept now of what I am remembering. A glimpse into the image that is burned into my brain.

Every day I would meet Dusty there on the school grounds, he rode his bike into town every day and we would meet up. One morning as I walked towards the school campus, I could hear several guys yelling and making all kinds of noise, coming from the school… as I got closer I could see five or six guys, two looked like they were fighting and the other ones were circled around them cheering it on. As I got closer, I realized Dusty was fighting his fucking stepbrother, you know the shithead Greg I mentioned earlier. I ran towards them, not really knowing what I could do, Greg could beat my ass in a second and we both knew it… but all common sense had gone out the window, he was punching Dusty, he was bruising that beautiful face and I could not stand by for that…

I think we need a quick time out here, just a quick one. I mentioned earlier about the rumors going around my school about me being queer, but none of them had been confirmed… well except from those that had firsthand knowledge… I had not by any way, shape or form even admitted to myself that I was queer, I mean I knew something was different and I knew I thought Dusty was incredibly hot. But still… okay, I just needed you guys to understand some of this.

I ran right into the center of that circle, right into the center of the two of them and well as you guessed already, I was hit smack dab in the center of my right eye. As soon as Greg’s fist connected with my face, he and Dusty stopped fighting. It grew eerily quiet and for a few minutes it seemed like time had just frozen solid. The look on Dusty’s face, the look on Greg’s face… hell the look on my face as I fought back tears from the pain of getting punched in the eye. Dusty moved towards me, very protectively and Greg looked like he was about to just tear my head from my body. Greg shouted “let us leave the little queer buddies alone so they can suck each other’s dicks” as they mounted their bikes and rode off.

Dusty shook his head and was checking on my eye, there was a strange look on his face, and I knew he wanted to say something but was holding back. I pulled my head from his hands; I was embarrassed that he was having to look after me… I was older than he was. We walked away quietly side by side, like we normally did, but it was the same and yet different. It took a good two to three hours before he finally told me what was weighing on his mind. Early that morning before he left home, Greg and he had gotten into a fight about ME, Greg did not like the fact that his new, younger stepbrother was hanging around a fucking queer in his grade. Greg had asked him when he got on his bike if he was going to go suck his new little queer buddy for the day. Dusty flipped him off and left for town, Greg followed him after stopping and getting a few of his close friends to come with him… the actual fight was about the fact that Greg knew that if he was coming to the school grounds it was to meet me there, Dusty was tired of Greg’s mouth and when he got to the school it had reached the point of a physical altercation. Dusty knew I had only made things worse for both of us the moment I charged into the middle of their fight.

Hearing all this from Dusty, stung more than the punch to my eye… Dusty was frustrated at Greg the most, but I had not helped things out at all… I got up, a hint of tears in my eyes, my head hanging down and feeling like crap… I started walking away, Dusty let me get a good 10 yards before he took his place right beside me, side by side… the day was not as much fun as the others had been but we made the most of it, we ran into my best friend at the New Store in town… he wanted me to help him out the next day for some pay and I really wanted the money, so after an inquisitive look towards Dusty, him with a smile, I agreed. We were just sitting there talking to my best friend John when Greg and his freinds rode by, John knew about the past troubles between Greg and I, he also knew Greg would not come over here not while he was around. John did not however know about the crap from today and I decided to leave it that way for now. Dusty and John were talking about sports and running track… I was listening and watching the two of them talk, Dusty was saying that in a 100-yard dash he was extremely fast and then somewhere in that conversation I heard John saying how fast I was in a 100-yard dash… I shook my head and was trying to figure out how I got brought into this whole running thing conversation. The next thing I knew John and Dusty were making bets on which one of us would be the fastest… huh… how the hell did this conversation get to me being involved. So, Dusty bet me $5 that he could beat me in a 100-yard dash, I looked at John and then before I knew what was happening my mouth opened and said you are on! Dusty and John are talking money and when and where for this race and I am thinking to myself, what the fuck just happened??? John had $5 from Dusty, and I gave him $5 and we decided it was winner takes all. We would race next Monday at the school track, well what you would call a track in that time period at a ridiculously small school.

Dusty and I sat off and rode our bikes out to the bayou and went for a swim, there were about 8 other guys that we knew there when we arrived. We visited with everybody and swam for a couple of hours, luckily there are trees covering a lot of our old swimming hole otherwise I would have been really sunburned. Just about the time we got ready to leave Greg and his buddies showed up. Dusty and I grabbed our bikes and hid in the woods at the edge of the bayou. Greg was there trying to find us. We slipped into an old drainage ditch with our bikes in hand, it was a tight squeeze, and we were almost on top of each other. We were intoxicatingly close; we were feeling the heat from each other’s skin. Our eyes were locked on each other’s.

SNAP, CRUNCH… I could hear noises coming from nearby, both of us were scared and we tensed up and grew even quieter… then without warning, neither of expecting it… holy crap, a large fat old roly poly coon (Racoon) sticks his head down over the edge of the drainage ditch and just looks at us, sniffs and then off he goes. Dusty and I laughed for a good 10 minutes, we had been so scared just minutes ago and it turned out to be a damn coon, we were laughing so hard, tears running down our cheeks and both of us just having a good old fashion belly laugh.

We climbed out of the drainage ditch, got on our bikes and headed back into town. That night we hung out till it was getting darker than usual. The next day I would be with my best friend all day helping him do some work for his dad. It was if neither one of us wanted to go home that night… it had been a really crappy first part of the day, but then the afternoon improved and well things felt different, but not in a bad way, simply different. I headed to get some sleep and he needed to get home before he got himself in a lot of trouble.

The next day was long, hard, hot and tiring… I think I got way too much sun and I should have drunk more water and less soda. When John’s dad dropped me at the house, I was still drinking on a 16 oz returnable bottle of Mello Yello, it was actually a bit warm… my mother was not impressed with what I was drinking and made me finish it off while eating my dinner. It was around midnight when all hell broke loose in me… yes, I meant IN ME. I started throwing up violently like almost as the clock struck 12 am, and not to be gross two holes and two exits… I was throwing up and had a really wild case of the runs. This lasted till about 3 am and then finally some sleep, but at 5 am my body decided it was time for round two… 7 am more sleep… 10 am more of the previous… by noon I was sound asleep and slept till almost 6 pm. My mother tried to get me to eat something around 6:30 pm, that did not work or go to well… I was miserable and tired and hungry, but not… my sister comes in and tells me that my stupid little friend had been by twice today looking for me… even John had stopped by to see if I wanted to hang out later that night.

For the course of the next 9 days, I was in the bed, sick, sicker than I had been before… each day consisted of a small cup of flattened cock and about 3 saltine crackers… other than that it was mainly water and more water. I did not see anyone, hear from anyone. I was just sick and alone. My older sister was in town from college in Austin TX, I was starting to feel better and so my sister convinced my mom to let me come to stay with her for a week. (School back in the 70’s started on the Tuesday after Labor Day and ended the Friday before Memorial Day.) I went to Austin, but I could not quit thinking about Dusty, it was impossible to get him off my mind, out of my head... hell, the worst of it was trying not to let my heart think about him. I was mopping around at my sisters, of course I could not tell her what it was about, but damn… I think I am in love with this little shit!

It was Friday and I was going back home on Sunday. My mom called and talked to my sister and wanted to make sure she remembered to bring somethings back from Austin for the family. Towards the end of their call, (back then calls were usually pretty short) my mom wanted to talk to me.

From this moment on, my life was never the same…

My mom asked how the visit went and if I had any fun… she wanted to know the first thing that I finally had eaten after being sick for so long… she was not thrilled with my answer but not mad either… Swenson’s Ice Cream on Guadalupe Street, Chocolate Chip Ice Cream.

Then my mom said your friend Dustin stopped by once to see you, but I heard last night that he DIED.

I went silent, I handed the phone to my sister and went for a walk around her apartment complex. In my mind, inside my heart and deep within my soul the following conversation took place… “What the fuck… wait a goddamn minute… either I cannot hear very well, I mean something is wrong… Dusty is not dead, I mean there is no way, no reason… we still have a race to run… I mean a dash, like John still has the money, so Dusty is not dead, he is not dead! Oh God, please tell me this is some cruel joke, tell me Dusty is okay, tell me Dusty is alive. This is not real; I mean it just cannot… Greg is behind this; he is telling people his stepbrother is dead just to fuck with people… God forbid!”

I was silent that night, my sister tried everything to no avail, we left the next morning to take me home. The 4-hour drive was silent. When we got to the house, I was still silent. My brain had gone numb. I am a fucking kid, Dusty is a fucking kid… this kind of shit does not happen to kids…

My oldest sisters’ husband was a volunteer ambulance attendant, he was the one who told my mother about Dusty. He sat down with me to tell me what happened…

Dusty and Greg got into another fight, this time about something else, not me. Dusty’s mom took Greg’s side of the story and blamed Dusty for the fight. Greg and his stepmom went to the store to get something for dinner, while they were gone Dusty decided to scare his mom, so he tied a belt around his neck and then around the top of the door, he was going to pretend he hung himself to scare her because he was mad. He slipped and broke his neck, he was still alive when they returned home and she grabbed him and drove him into the Fire Station, she blew the fire whistle and my brother-in-law was one of the first men on the scene, they put Dusty in the ambulance and rushed him to the ER, he looked at my brother-in-law a couple of times, finally recognizing him, they had met a few weeks back. Then Dusty told him to tell me he was sorry. That was one of the last things that he ever said.

We were young, we were innocent, but do not dismiss that even love or something very much like it is blind to age.