THE SHOW GOES ON

Sometimes in the brouhaha we miss out on the finer points.

I watched the premiere of “The Conners” this week and then read the uproar on Twitter. No Roseanne, no show. People trashed the show although I’m sure many did so without watching. I don’t begrudge (non) viewers for sitting things out after Roseanne’s firing, but I do cry foul when they call the show “crap” without seeing it.

I loved Roseanne before she ever had a hit show. I remember seeing her on “The Tonight Show”, having a VHS tape of her Domestic Goddess stand-up routine and watching it repeatedly when I needed a good laugh. I don’t think I missed an episode of “Roseanne” and I appreciated the inclusion of LGBT characters, namely, Sandra Bernhard’s Nancy and Martin Mull’s Leon. To be sure, Roseanne as a person has polarized many times in the public eye. She’s an individual who would be challenging for any producer, showrunner or agent to rein in. (I suspect many of the people who were most offended by her infamous singing of the national anthem were among the angry mob decrying her firing for referring to Valerie Jarrett as a Planet of the Apes offspring.) People can agree to disagree on whether she deserved to be fired for her “bad joke”, tweeted while on Ambien. As was the case with Kevin Spacey’s “House of Cards”, to cancel the entire show would have unjustly affected far more people.

I was not a fan of “Valerie” after they axed Valerie Harper and changed the name to “Valerie’s Family: The Hogans” (later, “The Hogans”). I did watch a few episodes, however, primarily because I could see that Jason Bateman, even at that age, was a true talent and Edie McClurg is a hoot in anything she does. To be clear, as a rabid, lifelong fan of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”, I will always be #TeamValerie and her masterful comedic talent was sorely missed as producers tried to salvage a hit show. Ultimately, I stopped watching but not until giving the reboot a shot. Deep disappointment will always follow a star’s exit from a show, regardless of the circumstances. I sorely missed Delta Burke on “Designing Women”, Shelley Long on “Cheers” and even Suzanne Somers on “Three’s Company”, but continued to watch two out of three of the sitcoms. (John Ritter’s pratfalls and exaggerated gay mannerisms were too off-putting.)

What the abstainers of “The Conners” missed, beyond the continued fine acting of John Goodman, Laurie Metcalf and Sara Gilbert”, was the further development of an important storyline from last season on “Roseanne”: the acceptance of Darlene’s ten-year-old son, Mark, as he confidently explores gender identity and sexual orientation. Last season, Roseanne and Darlene accepted Mark in his choice of clothing while Dan remained uncomfortable. Without his Rosie in the premier of “The Conners”, Dan had to come to terms with Mark on his own. At first, he tried to opt out of offering advice over which boy crush Mark should sit beside on the bus ride to a school field trip, but then Dan came around and helped Mark create a pro and con list for each boy. (Ultimately, Dan favored the seemingly well-adjusted boy whose family has money—they vacation in places where you get a tan!—while Mark decided on the brooding boy instead.)

I am curious to see how Mark’s character will develop over the course of “The Conners”. This is a great opportunity for a positive portrayal of LGBTQ acceptance and gender fluidity on a major television network. Frankly, I think there is more time to develop this without Roseanne on the show even though I am confident that Roseanne was fully in favor, perhaps even instrumental (along with Gilbert), in introducing this character. We all know that Roseanne is larger than life and a show with her can’t help but stay on her as the primary focus. Last season, Mark’s character got a lot of attention in the first episode and then wasn’t developed further. With a major character out of the mix, others will receive more airtime. (Heck, even DJ got a couple of lines this week!)

I contrast Mark’s role on “The Conners” with another show that I saw for the first time last night, “The Cool Kids”. On this particular episode, Leslie Jordan’s Sid, a gay senior citizen, tries to suppress every cliched gay mannerism and decor choice so he can remain closeted in front of his clueless (ha ha!) adult son. Nothing subtle there. Call it “Three’s Company, 2018”. I laughed once or twice simply because Leslie Jordan is that good at playing flamboyant and just watching his efforts to contain his hip movement showed a mastery of physical comedy. But the broad strokes of “The Cool Kids” feels truly old-school compared to the more nuanced, matter-of-fact portrayal of Mark on “The Conners”.

The premiere of “The Conners” was bound to generate strong reactions on Twitter. (The whole “it’s not ‘Roseanne’ without Roseanne” argument seemed the silliest—hence the name change, folks!) The naysayers certainly had their say. Now I hope the writers on “The Conners” and the actors continue to enlighten and amuse with thoughtful stories and exemplary acting for as long as ABC decides it’s a viable show.

TWO GAYS AT A BABY SHOWER...

My cousin, his niece. They’re having a baby. And so we bought our gifts, stuffed them in overpriced (but super cute) gift bags and showed up for the shower. Fifty people—half men, half women—but only two gay guys.

We’d never met before but I could tell he’d been primed. Oh, you’ve got to meet James. He’s funny and smart. And,…he’s single. I got a similar backgrounder file on Rich: outrageously funny, so loving, great fun.

I didn’t need an introduction. My gaydar worked just fine. Presumably so did his because he approached and chatted me up within five minutes of arrival. Nice guy. Same age. We laughed as we sustained a fifteen-minute conversation. That’s an achievement for me since I find chitchat challenging. Even more remarkable: I didn’t feel a layer of sweat coating my forehead or wetting my underarms. I was calm, maybe even charming.

But then maybe it’s because I knew things weren’t going anywhere. I could tell in an instant from his breath he was a smoker. I’ve had a long-term relationship with a smoker and I’m dead certain I never will again. Besides, to hit it off would be complicated and impractical. I’ve started seeing someone else back in Vancouver and the uncle of the mom-to-be lives in Ottawa. So pleasant enough, someone to connect with during future family functions in which cousins and uncles are invited, but nothing more.

None of my relatives or family friends quizzed me later in the day. I could feel eyes on us as we chatted during that first exchange and during two other occasions at the shower, but half my family is still too repressed to ask about anything gay and the other half knows I prefer to keep my thoughts to myself (and to blog readers, of course).

So it ends quietly. The two gays showed at the shower, they brought amazing gifts (as gays do) and they went their separate ways. The main players were fine, but I suspect the armchair gay-watchers left disappointed. It’s bound to happen when your gay pool is so small.

VISITING A GAY MECCA, MY WAY

Okay, so I’ve been halfway there, done half of that. For my entire adult life, I’ve heard about Fire Island and Provincetown as being East Coast gay meccas. Last week I checked out Provincetown.

I realize the “optimal” time to visit is during the summer, but I figured it would be too crowded, too overwhelmingly gay for me. Too many people wanting to be on display and wanting to check out the other displays. Call it a hunch. So early October seemed reasonable. Foliage season. I was already going to Boston. Why not add P-town to the itinerary?

And my first impression was negative. Not too gay, but too touristy. My Cape Cod bed-and-breakfast was on the main street, Commercial, and I had to drive about ten miles per hour, braking constantly as pedestrians took to the middle of the road without a care in the world. Yes, there was signage telling drivers to yield to pedestrians, but at some point that notion can be abused. And that point had been passed! I was cranky by the time I reached my destination. Relieved I’d only arranged to stay one night, I fretted over how I’d spend even that limited period of time.

After checking in, I dutifully meandered, keeping to the sidewalk or the parking lane, modeling how cars and pedestrians can coexist. Really, it wasn’t so hard to do.

None of the shops enticed me but that was fine. I didn’t need a tchotchke to cram into my suitcase. Not even a nifty rainbow t-shirt from the Human Rights Campaign store. I drifted off the main drag and ended up on the beach, gazing at sailboats, puffins and the sea.

Okay, this place has something.

Based on a friend’s recommendation, I later drove to Herring Cove Beach to catch the sunset…and a seal that seemed to like an audience. (Maybe even the seals here are gay.) By nightfall, I was relaxed. But more than anything I looked forward to seeing Provincetown during an early morning jog, when shops would be closed and tourists would still be sleeping off a drink or two too many.

I caught the sunrise from the beach and then from a pier. I ran along Commercial Street, sharing it only with a few delivery trucks and the occasional dog walker. Everything seemed more charming without all that human clutter and clatter. The appeal of P-town started to make sense. Having it all to myself was glorious.

The rain waited until I’d finished my run. I headed up the 252-foot Pilgrim Monument—another recommendation from my friend—to get panoramic views of the area. Remarkably, I had the entire tower to myself as everyone else apparently presumed soggy views weren’t worth the climb. Sure, the raindrops on the windows at the top and the shower from the overhead made me keep my phone camera in my pocket but that served as a reminder that experiences are still worthy even though they are not documented on Instagram. Being the sole visitor was a wonderful contrast to when I fought for elbow room atop the Empire State Building last summer as people posed for selfies. This moment was perfect.

Most gay men would say I didn’t do it right. I missed out on the quintessential Provincetown experience. I wasn’t seen and I didn’t take in the gay scene. No gay bar, no gay-frequented restaurant, not even a conversation or an exchange of looks. I’m okay with that. I got what I wanted—a tamed visual of this gay haven and a solitary exploration.

If I ever return to Provincetown, maybe it will be in February, during the week, when shops are closed down for owners’ extended vacations, when vacancy signs are common and when there is absolutely no excuse for pedestrians walking in the middle of the street. The rainbow flags and the store windows will still remind me that I’m in a gay haven, even if the gays are all in Puerto Vallarta. That’s another mecca I suppose I should visit, whenever the off-season happens to be.