Thank you first to Heather Abel, editor and friend of my dreams, who urged me into the undiscovered country of memory and helped me make sense—and sentences—from what I found there. You made every page, and every day spent writing it, better.
I am deeply grateful to Joan Larkin for her early and sustained enthusiasm, and to all those at the University of Wisconsin Press who gave this book their time and attention, especially Raphael Kadushin, David Bergman, Amber Rose, Sheila Leary, Sheila McMahon, and Michelle Wing.
Rilla Askew and John Wideman taught me how to tell a story, and for that I can’t thank them enough. Shauna Seliy, Brian Jordan, and the late Jim Foley offered marvelous camaraderie and still do, on earthly and astral planes.
Enormous gratitude to the West Cummington Church for being my home, and to Stephen Philbrick, who, to borrow his words, is a bright star in my shabby firmament. And thank you to Penny Schultz, for all the joy.
Rachel Jenkins gave me the room I needed, when I needed it. Erin O’Donnell, Karen Stevens, and Susan Warner took care of my girls so that I could write. Deborah Balmuth, Alisa Greenbacher, and Lori Shine read earlier drafts and responded with generosity and smarts. MB Caschetta and Cathi Hanauer made essential connections. Thank you all.
Thank you to Kelly Anderson for being family; to Cyndy Sperry for showing me how to be a mother and an artist; to Tim Davis and Susan Garsoe for a western desk; and Patsy Kauffman-Barber, Jen Nates, Alison Rogers, and Karin Wallestad for sustaining friendship.
And thanks to my family. The Corsacs brought me in with so much laughter and love. Thank you. Love and thanks to all the O’Neills and all the Whites, most especially to the world’s best parents, Catherine and Jerry White, who filled deep wells of confidence and worth. And to my brother, Jerry, and sister, Rebecca, for faith and loyalty and for letting me have the middle seat in the VW bus. I would go anywhere with you two.
Grace and June, my darling girls, thank you for every last thing. I still can’t believe you’re mine.
Deepest thanks to Chris. Without you there is no story. Thank you for trusting me with it. Thank you for bringing it—and me—to life.
And one last debt of thanks: To the generations of LGBT people who wrote and spoke and marched, strategized and organized and testified and lay down in the streets so that I could have this life. Thank you. And thank you to the people who are still fighting, because the struggle is far from over. Thank you for your bravery and your vision. Thank you for being always on the side of love.