Recently I shared in this column memories of my Aunt Margie, who died in 1946, and her mother (and my grandmother) fondly called "Fussbudget", who died in 1951.  (Correction:  I had said that Aunt Margie passed away in 1945 -- however, when visiting her grave, the tombstone said 1946 which is correct.  Oh well, I was correct on all of the other dates. 

 

Next to Fussbudget and Aunt Margie's graves, were my Uncle Donald (Fussbudget's son) and his beloved wife, Dorothy, whom we fondly called "Hotchee."  When I was a teenager, and the family was discussing the fact that I was a "known queer" (my Aunt Ann's words), Uncle Donald defended me, and said:  "He can't help it."  As years went on all but one family member, people who had known me since birth, had to admit and acknowlege that my transsexuality was definitely something innate -- which, of course, translates into the fact that this is who I am.  The only one in the family who would not acknowledge this and/or accept me as Paula, was my father. 

 

GRANDMA HAZEL, my grandmother on my mother's side of the family.  She passed on in 1970 at which time I was still living in Southern California. She was laid to rest in the same cemetery in Gresham.  In 1946, when my mother and father divorced -- my mother remarried, to my stepfather, Frank.  Because of Frank's work, Mom, Frank, and my sister Teresa moved to Vallejo, California.  My dad, Alex, a longshoreman, was living in a hotel in downtown Portland.  I went to live for about one year on Grandma Hazel's farm in Sherwood, Oregon.

 

In my autobiography, I will share many memories of those days "back home on the farm."  Actually, I did not like country life.  I couldn't wait to grow older so I could live in the city.  In hindsight, however, I wish I could go back to those days.

 

My fondest memory of those days in Sherwood was Grandma's dog, Mugsy.  "First and foremost, I remember Mugsy." 

 

Another memory of those days happened during the 4th grade at Sherwood Grade School.  As a nine year old boy, I wore levi overalls (with the "bib" and I literally hated this attire).  A skit in a school program was "Sunbonnet Sally and Overall Jim."  I was "overall Jim" and wanted to be "Sunbonnet Sally."  Oh well, that's life!

 

 Another fond memory of those days were the times when my Dad would visit me on the farm and take me to the movies, sometimes in Portland.  He took me to the Robin Hood Theatre in Sherwood (mind you, this was years before the mega theatre multiplexes of today) to see "The Yearling", the story about a boy and his pet fawn.  Another time during this same year, my dad took me to the Francis Theatre in Newberg to see Walt Disney's "Bambi." (Both movies made me cry).  These are two of my all-time favorite films and will bless children of all ages for generations to come.  Truly, film classics which we will never see the likes of again. 

 

Grandma and Joe (her husband) had 8 or 9 cows.  Often in the afternoon I would sit out on a tree stump, with a coffee can as a microphone, and "entertain" the cows, renacting the movies.  The cows were my first "audience", sitting there chewing their cuds, listening intensely.  In the early 90's, on a satellite interview with the BCC, I shared this as my first experience as an entertainer! 

 

Like I said, there are other memories of this time in my life.  If I shared them ALL with you, there would be no reason for you to purchase my autobiography once it is written and published. 

 

My dad, Alex, and his second wife, Lanta Mae, were also laid to rest, together, in this same Gresham cemetery.  They were married for 40 years.  In next week's THOUGHTS FROM PAULA column, I will share with you some memories of Lanta Mae.  What about my father?  You will be able to read details about him when my autobiography is published, in a chapter entitled I NEVER SANG FOR MY FATHER. 

 

In the meantime, always remember there's someone who loves you, who is with you whenver you pray.  That One is Jesus Christ, seated at the right hand of God; the One who is touched with the feeling of our infirmities -- the One who understands are cares.  Know that!