I met a long-lost distant cousin today. He's an old man; his great-grandmother was a Mamatas, and his relations are from Ikaria, so our extended families also have a number of surnames—Gemelas, Kontounis, Cherouvis, and Portelos—in common. He wrote me about a year ago, as his hobby is genealogy, and he lives a few blocks from Team Rocket HQ, so he just popped in to randomly say hello.
Nice guy. Interesting life, like every life is interesting. Over the last forty years he self-published ten novels and memoirs about gay life (one has a science fictional conceit) and had been kicking around SF and New York and Pittsburgh for most of his life. He also takes photographs and occasionally shows them in galleries and whatnot. He has a son a little younger than I am thanks to sperm donation, and the kid grew up with a dark complexion—he wondered if he wasn't Latino. Now the kid's an academic and an activist who identifies as "a person of color without a particular color to belong to; and as an anti-racist white ally who isn’t really white."
Ain't life funny?
Nice guy. Interesting life, like every life is interesting. Over the last forty years he self-published ten novels and memoirs about gay life (one has a science fictional conceit) and had been kicking around SF and New York and Pittsburgh for most of his life. He also takes photographs and occasionally shows them in galleries and whatnot. He has a son a little younger than I am thanks to sperm donation, and the kid grew up with a dark complexion—he wondered if he wasn't Latino. Now the kid's an academic and an activist who identifies as "a person of color without a particular color to belong to; and as an anti-racist white ally who isn’t really white."
Ain't life funny?