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| Peaches Grille, Yellow Springs, Ohio. |
Yesterday I went back to my hometown to pick up copies of court paperwork I needed on my name change so long ago.
By so long ago, I mean I finally had to sit in front of a
judge who I knew to be very conservative to get my final name change signature. It was one super Christmas present as it all happened December 23, 2015. Even “Mr.
Conservative Judge” himself said Merry Christmas when he signed my long overdue
paperwork. As I remember now, I had many hoops to jump through such as posting
a notice in the local newspaper and waiting for thirty days to see if anyone
would object to the change. Then I needed to petition the court for the actual
name change. My future wife Liz was with me when all of this happened, and we were
on cloud nine when we received the final documents.
The only mistake I made was not getting enough court copies
of my change due to poor planning and I ran out. So, the only thing I could do
was make the hour and a half trip back to the court clerk for more certified copies
that I needed to change one of my insurance policies names over from my old name
to my new name. My only advice to those of you who are going through the legal
name change process is to plan ahead and get plenty of copies and then get more.
By now you may be asking which of my demons did I exorcise.
The first major demon was not having to see mail from my insurance company showing
up with my previous male name on it and knowing it was not their fault but mine
because I did not do anything about it. The second demon was even going back to
my hometown (where I was born and raised) at all. It is an old industrial town
which has had its heart ripped out a couple times by companies downsizing or even
moving overseas. Setting all of that aside, I remember the rejection I received
there from certain friends and family members when they discovered my deep, dark
“gender secret”. It seems each rejection was burned into my soul.
So much so that I could not sleep the night before Liz and I
went back to the city that I think never forgot about me. Even though that is a
self-centered idea because it has in almost every way possible. My ex-brother
still lives there who I am separated from and is another good reason to dread going
back. To take the pressure off a little bit, I tried to meet up with my
daughter and son-in-law in nearby Yellow Springs, Ohio which has always been a
real treat to go to and has been referred to as the gayest town in Ohio.
My daughter could not be there because they were going to
Maine to see my oldest grandchild who works up there as a nuclear engineer. Liz
and I’s disappointment in not seeing daughter and son-in-law was short-lived because
Yellow Springs was all decked out in its Pride finest as it was all going to
happen the next day. We ended up stopping for lunch at a place called “Peaches
Grill” for a great light lunch before we resumed our trip. “Peaches” was promoting
their after-Pride party and was all decorated out in preparation. It was also
the venue where I ended setting next to a “Debra Winger” look-a-like complete
with the black “Urban Cowboy” movie cowgirl hat. It was a fun evening and no,
she did not ask for my autograph (ha-ha). All in all, Yellow Springs is the direct
opposite of my hometown which is only ten miles away.
Now, since I think I have all the papers I will need for any
future demands put on me to vote by the Republicans, I am not envisioning any
need to go back to my hometown since years ago now, I even sold the two
properties I had left there. I don’t know why I have such a deep-seated fear of
reliving all the bad moments that I had, I suppose it is just the vestiges of
the life I had coming out into the world coming back to haunt me. And it speaks
to the amount of suffering a transgender woman or transgender man can go through
just to live their lives the way they need to.
I know too that I am one of the fortunate trans people who
can get around freely in public since I present as just old now and can get by
with my wife’s Liz help. I just have my age-old demons to harass me like I just
went through. I dislike my old hometown so much, I even don’t want to mention
it by name, but it is the one that the orange Russian in the White House keeps
mentioning again when it comes to deporting the Haitians. I will let you fill
in the blanks from there.
All in all, my demons are tough critters and the only
survivors which still exist from my old male days. They play into my anxiety issues
of always worrying ahead for seemingly any occasion. But as always, my feminine
side has stood the test of time and has been successful in exorcising my
demons. I guess you can say she has always had my back when the times were the
darkest in the days when I was visiting Yellow Springs as a short-haired Army
soldier when I desperately wanted to be one of the long-haired hippie girls I
saw in their bell-bottom pants. It took me awhile, but I exorcised that demon
who kept telling me I would never make it.
Most importantly we made the trip safely, even with a police
detour set up on a rural highway for what looked like a potential swat
situation as well as heavily pouring rain which hit us on and off. We made it
past the demons and that is the important part.
