ABSTRACT
When I turned forty (in 1966), Ron and I had already been in a monogamous relationship for fifteen years. (Ron's roughly two and a half years younger than I—a gap that has, as we'll relate, proved significant at times.) I was pursuing what proved to be a successful career as an editor of do-it-yourself (hereinafter DIY) features on national magazines. Ron had an important post with a major publisher of college texts. Ron's racket was a good deal more gay accepting than mine. My byline appeared on several articles each month directed specifically to U.S. males (most of them in middle America) who had basement workshops full of power tools. I would guess that the majority of my faithful readers would (had I announced I was gay) have run me through their radial arm saws or turned me on their lathes. By not shoving my sexual orientation in their faces, and by continuing to be the "regular Joe of DIY" I had long considered myself, I not only worked my way into an honorable early retirement, but graduated into the presidency of a national writers' association.
