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It’s September and schools will be starting up again soon in North America. I thought this type of tale would be a good take off of that classic “back to school” chore of sharing what I did with one of my summers.
In the summer of 2002, I went to Kenora, Ontario. I am sure some of you have heard of "Lake of the Woods", well, this is the urban centre of that area. We left Saskatoon, SK late Thursday after my partner cleaned and repacked the car. We traveled a route through the Parkland of the northern Prairies called the Yellowhead. It was a good, fast drive of about 9 hours. I stopped near the Saskatchewan and Manitoba border to check out land prices, availability and crop yields. After 3 years of drought at home and in this lush landscape, I was not going to break rancher mode just for a vacation.
For sight seeing we stopped in Neepawa, Manitoba, the hometown of Margaret Laurence (author of The Stone Angel --a great Canadian and International Classic) and saw the house where she was raised, and the town where most of The Stone Angel was conceived.
Arriving in Winnipeg well after 10 PM, we checked into "The Winged Ox", a B & B close to downtown. Tony, a United Church minister, who advertised it as a gay B and B in gaycanada.com, is the owner. Tony was waiting up for us, and greeted us in his 3 story home in a typical United Church minister way. He stood in front of us with his arms behind his back, faced us with his flowing white hair, pursed his lips and proceeded to tell us about the bars in town. Like good gay tourists we headed to check them out. The first venue was "Happenings", fairly close to “The Winged Ox”. “Happenings” just “happened” to be filled with children. Even my “young to me” partner of 34 looked old here. We quickly escaped the nursery and headed to "Geo", a man’s bar. At Geo’s the price of beer was more expensive and it was not “Pretty” night either. The clientele that had been too young to have life etched on their faces at “Happenings” were not to be seen.
We were told there was a stripper, so we settled down to do some people watching. Definitely not as easy on the eyes as the gay rodeo crowd we were used to, but they all had experience for sure. We commented to each other on different people: A Filipino who had hungry eyes cruised and chased any man that would give him a glance. We then spotted a young kid, who I thought was First Nations and whom my partner thought might be Filipino. He had black hair tinged red and his thin frame exposed by a T shirt the kids call a wife beater; his white pants hugging his hips, showing off the elastic band of his Calvin's. He had accessorized with a child's pajama back pack that looked like either a Burt or Ernie type creature or maybe "where's Elmo". Snickering in our more expensive beer, we continued to look at the rest of the crowd--like the married guy with the wedding ring and the wife back at the cottage who had suddenly become attached to the wandering Filipino. Then there was the girl sitting, bouncing her head to the music and talking to herself, while her male friend ran around trying to score, sex or drugs, it was unclear.
After a while some people got up to dance and the young kid with the kiddie backpack appeared on the dance floor... well, our snickering stopped. The kid could dance, and dance well. The beat of the music chorused through his body while the rest of his body emphasized its texture. He moved smoothly and comfortably, emphasizing the rhythm with his hips and arms, twisting and gliding. His whole body flowed, while others danced like mannequins in a puppet show. He was in his element like a dolphin racing in the foam of a fast boat. It was pure pleasure to watch him just doing his thing to the music.
When the stripper came on, our second row seats with a clear view to the dance floor were poorly chosen. All the people from the dark corners of the bar came out and raced to the front. The stripper was probably the best looking man most of them had ever seen naked. Too short for his long blonde hair, his shaved chest showed his muscled gym rat body. He was obviously over paid for his ability to dance; he would have been better off competing in a body builders’ show. The skinny kid with the backpack had completely out-classed him.
Oh well, it was only a Thursday night in Winnipeg, I had lived through worse nights in Dallas, TX. We were back to the B&B after our second beer.
We got up around 9:00 on Friday morning. Tony, our host, had a wonderful breakfast ready for us of blueberry pancakes, sausage and fresh coffee. A couple of the girls that were staying there were already seated. One girl, pretty with long black hair, had a job at the University. She told us that she had done her Ph.D. in Calgary, and used to sing with the gay choir that opened the gay rodeo there. She had been in San Diego doing her Post-Doctoral work, and had just gotten the teaching job, so she was happy and employed. Her girlfriend was looking forward to joining her in January. As an aside—from San Diego to Winnipeg in January! Talk about a 60 - 80 degree Celsius change, or in Fahrenheit, more like a 120-degree change. The girlfriend was a good looking blonde who might have been around the block before and had decided a Ph.D. was better than the squirrel hunting woman she had been with in Colorado. Theirs was in the time-honoured tradition of lesbian relationships: Meet, move in and then figure out if they are compatible. At only the 5th month of their togetherness, they were already trying to figure out the immigration thing and the blonde was talking baby. We wished them well and hoped the 40-below temperatures wouldn't freeze up their love.
We took time the next day to visit the Mint where all our coins and those of 60 other countries are made, and Lower Fort Gary, where we teased and harassed the guides and actors of the historic site. I figured that would be a great summer job for any University student. Winnipeg is full of opportunity; cheap housing, wide streets, huge elms and a wonderful attitude making it a great place to visit or live.
We were then on our way to Kenora, Ontario and quickly found the hotel where everything was happening. The reason for this trip was my partner’s cousin’s marriage. We had been invited as a couple, so our journey also promoted gay rights within an already understanding family. My partner’s brothers and wives were nice people; we had great time visiting with them and eating a lot. The wedding was good; it was in the hotel and we didn't have to go outside. It poured rain the whole day, so there were no extras like canoeing, sight seeing or even shopping for us. I hadn't seen rain and wind like that in over 3 years!
The reception was great and everything went smoothly.
Most of the DJ's music at the dance was Rock 'n Roll. So I barely noticed a bunch of single women up and dancing. Then I noticed one woman dancing with the girls. Without a doubt, she was really enjoying the music. She was big, feminine with greying shoulder length hair, and she moved her whole body on bare feet to the music with a freedom and passion that made you know that she was having fun. It brought to mind the saying "Dance like no one is watching,”--I think that statement makes everyone dance better. I smiled to see her dance, and remembered the young dancer from the club in Winnipeg the two nights prior.
As the night progressed and both my partner and I had danced with all available female family members, the last dance was called. My partner talked to his cousin the bride, and then came back and asked me to dance (He felt it was her wedding dance and he did not want to upstage her special night to make a political point).
So, we danced a clumsy two-step at a wedding reception in redneck Northern Ontario. Maybe we were not as joyous and abandoned as the two previous dancers I’d seen. But I hoped in time, as we got more comfortable with our two stepping, we would be able to dance with as much rhythm and passion as we were dancing now with the simple freedom to dance.

When we got up and danced as a gay couple in front of over a hundred straight people it became a political and personal statement, which surprises me still. I am proud of the fact that my ex-partner had the courage, vision and conviction for this social action. I don't march in rallies or carry the gay flag wherever I go, but I think we did our share to forward the cause that weekend. I am a better person for it, and for having been with him. The saying of a few years back “Work like you don’t need the money, Love like you have never been hurt and Dance like no one is watching” came to mind afterward. Hopefully someday we will all dance comfortably with all the rhythms inside ourselves—just like the young, gay First Nations dancer in Winnipeg, and the woman in Kenora—wherever and whenever we want.