Longing for What Wasn’t: Nostalgia and Regret in a Southern Childhood

I’ve wanted to come back here and write something for a while and I just didn’t know what I wanted to say. As I was listening to music tonight I began to feel inspired. That always happens to me. Music inspires me so much. I’m hoping I can make this attempt to put my words into the Universe as beautiful as it feels inside me.

Music has always been my release. From the time I was a child, I always had a radio with me, and then a walkman, and so on. I remember many nights when I was 9 or 10 laying in bed with a radio under my pillow. The sound of the music and talk radio along with the sound of the semi trucks driving by on the nearby highway would put me to sleep.

Songs have certain feelings for me. When I hear one, especially for the first time I remember the exact way it makes me feel. So even to this day when I hear songs from years ago I remember that feeling. I remember the atmosphere around me, for lack of a better word. You know, the general feel of the day. I don’t think I’m getting my point across, but one example I can give you is this. I remember a song from my childhood in the 80s and I can remember the feeling I had as I stood in line at breakfast. I remember the cold air that day. I remember the smell of the cafeteria. I recall the feeling of anxiousness I had about a test I had that day. It’s all attached to a song. So when I hear that song I feel that all over again.

I listened to many different genres of music through the years and I still do listen to all of them. I was raised on country music. I also loved pop and rock. I can remember singing and dancing my heart out in my bedroom to “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” by Whitney Houston. I was a teenage boy in a backward cowboy town and I would have been beaten up had anyone known I did that. I listened to Dolly sing, “ I will always love you” and I would imagine it playing at my funeral. I know, I was so extra. I don’t know how I thought I was hiding anything, to be honest. If my family didn’t know I was gay they just weren’t paying attention.

But tonight I was listening to music, Linda Rondstadt, “Long Long Time” to be exact and reading through comments on a Youtube video about, “The Last of Us,” a show that was recently on HBO Max. Something kind of hit me.

Let me set the scene a little. I had just been searching for gay country music on Spotify. Yes, believe it or not, there are some songs out there. Just keep that in mind for a minute. I have the Linda Rondstadt song on my play list and I listened to it. Then I remembered it being in the show, “The Last of Us.” That’s what led me to Youtube. I was looking to see if I could find snippets of that episode and the song. If you haven’t watched that episode then stop reading if you don’t want to be spoiled.

In that episode when they used that song it felt so haunting. Frank and Bill are dead and laying on the bed and we never see that which I appreciate so much! But the open window and Ellie and Joel driving off in the truck with the song playing just hit me hard. I love how the song continued through the credits. But as I was reading through the comments I realized something.

I’m desperately trying to find something I never had. As I said, I grew up with a lot of country music. Now, I look for gay country songs. Then I was thinking of this episode and this gay love story. I put it all together. I’m just searching for something I wish I had growing up.

I can’t tell you how much I have been thinking about my childhood over the last few weeks. Most of that has had me wishing things were different for me during that time period. Seeing shows today like, “Heart Stopper” makes me sad because I would have loved to have had that when I was a teenager. To feel seen and to feel validated.

As I’ve come to terms with my identity and begun to embrace it, I realize how I tried so hard as a kid to express myself through the music I was listening to. Yet at the same time not having anything that really represented me. Now, I’m finding those things at the age I am now and it brings me so many different feelings. It makes me sad that I couldn’t have it when I needed it. It makes me happy because today’s generation gets to have it!

I’ll tie it all up with this. Today I was at a store and the cashier was a young man, probably in his early 20s. He had on dangly pearl earrings and his nails were painted. I felt so happy that he could express who he was, even in this southern bible belt town. I told him I liked his nails. I did so hoping that he would feel seen and validated by someone from my generation. I wanted him to know he’s not alone out there. I hope he felt that. I hope he didn’t think, “Is this gay bear daddy coming on to me?” No matter what he thought, tonight has been healing for me. And even now I don’t feel I can share that with anyone but you, dear reader.