“When you were a little boy you wanted to be a pilot,” my mother has said on and off during my adult years. She’s rewriting history to erase the embarrassing memory of raising a clearly gay son — I actually wanted to be a flight attendant.
My true aspiration is completely understandable. We were Americans living in Rome and we travelled great distances, especially to visit the grandparents in Australia. That was a real schlep, going from Italy via the States and tumbling