4 Pages

Tales of a le Lesbian

ByAndrew Ramer

I was never called a sissy when I was growing up, back in the 1950s on Long Island. While I envied my girl cousins the range of emotions they were allowed, I didn’t do girl things. Not that I did boy things either. I remember sitting beneath a tree in the elementary school playground, talking about the books we were reading with a handful of other misfits, Albert, Lenny, Peter, and Linda. We’d watch the other boys play softball with the same incomprehension we felt about the rest of the girls jumping rope and singing jump rope songs.