CAMPOut: Not just a place to play checkers.....

I headed for the Women’s Center, which I only suspected, was code for Lesbian Center. What happened there is why I am here—in Rehoboth, in my long-term relationship, and possibly here at all.

I’d been in the D.C. area for over 15 years but had never driven downtown solo. DC intimidated me then and does now. There are four of every damn street. Northeast this and Southwest that. And those state-named diagonal streets are hell.

Lore has it that DC’s ubiquitous traffic circles were designed by inebriated City Architect Pierre L’Enfant, who kept putting his sweaty beer mug on his map plans and oops, made a ring. "We’ll call this one Dupont Circle…."

So there I was, in alien territory, seeking a place to feel comfortable. That first visit to a welcoming space set me on my way.

You have to kiss lots of toadettes before you find your princess and go to lots of inappropriate venues before you find your niche. My Women’s Center visit led me first to a lesbian square dance. Hee-Haw!

I sat pasted along a wall, watching 30 or 40 women do-si-do in Dale Evans get-ups. While it wasn’t my kind of thing, I got to see women enjoying being together as couples. Actually, I noticed many women in sleeveless shirts, who had obviously shunned underarm shaving (it was, after all, the late 1970s). Then and there I determined if I was coming out of the closet I was taking my razor with me.

The next event was a lecture on Women and the Outdoors —which to me, was that distance between the car and Macy’s. To these gals it was spelunking and backpacking.

I didn’t know what was worse—hating myself for thinking I might be a lesbian, or hating myself because I hated square dances and mountain climbing and figured those were the only lesbian options. Geez, the gay community was just one more place I wouldn’t fit in. So evolved was my internal homophobia, I thought it odd, or queer if you will, that a gay group held meetings at a place called The Ethical Society. Snicker, snicker.

But after a few more weird forays—a meeting on lesbians and depression (which, based on me, was redundant), a potluck where all the gals but me dressed like Johnny Cash, and an unfortunate evening spent learning to play pool, things turned around nicely.

My Women’s Center connections led me to a party in DC hosted by two friendly women (remember this, it comes up later), where I met a woman who invited me to an event, where I was introduced to another woman, whose friend lived near my home in the suburbs

and...suddenly there were parties and dates and friendships.

To this day, some of the women I met that fledgling year are still dear friends. Some of them now live in Rehoboth.

And the funny thing is, as I became more comfortable with myself and my new life, I became more adventurous. After meeting Bonnie and getting to love both her and her love of boating, to my continued surprise, we became women of the outdoors. Although I drew the line at camping.

My second community center experience happened here. Whether most of us realize it or not, we already have a rudimentary gay community center. It’s our CAMP courtyard and office at 39 Baltimore Avenue.

In 1995 Bonnie and I, knowing only a handful of people in Rehoboth, came to town by boat, docked in Dewey, and planned to spend summer weekends here. In our first week, Bonnie and I were subject to the rants of a homophobic chef at a Dewey burger joint. He spewed hatred with a side of fries. I was upset and didn’t know if I even wanted to remain here for the summer.

I had seen the magazine Letters from CAMP and made my way to the tiny courtyard office with a letter to the editor I’d written. Though I didn’t know a soul there, I received a warm welcome and immediate help. Not only did the editor run my letter, but he contacted Dewey officials who promised to look into the situation. I don’t know whether it was the bad burgers or the community action, but the offending restaurant and its owner were soon gone.

Hearing we lived on our boat and had cruised here from Chesapeake Bay, Editor Steve suggested I write about the trip for Letters. Before we knew it, I was a columnist, Bonnie was donating volunteer time for something called Sundance, and we were up to our armpits (shaved, of course) in both CAMP Rehoboth and the small town of Rehoboth Beach.

Within a year, we were so deep in local activities, friends, and the brother and sisterhood, we bought a condo here. From there, the ties CAMP helped us make, and the torture of crawling over the Bay Bridge every weekend caused what would have been unthinkable a short time before: we ditched our corporate, dressed-for-success lives in Maryland and ran away to the beach. My father thought we were mental cases until he visited and began to see the liberating effect of our being able to live openly and proudly in our own hometown.

Fast forward to May 31, 2003. Hundreds of people gathered for CAMP’s Community Center Founders’ Circle fundraiser, producing palpable energy, genuine excitement and spectacular generosity.

Still, there are gay people in town who wonder why we need to build a full-service community center at 39 Baltimore. Based on some image conjured by the words "community center," they may feel disinterested; not needing a place to play checkers; having no use for meeting rooms, a library, art gallery, or Letters office.

To them I say, please reconsider. Whatever physical shape the building takes, it really will be "the heart of the community." More than a place to buy tickets, run a magazine, publicize events, hold meetings, and welcome people who need help or companionship, it will be the future of gay Rehoboth.

To me, it will insure that Rehoboth Beach stays a gay friendly resort and hometown for all of us, even if we never attend a single event, meeting, or envelope stuffing party there. For everyone who loves Rehoboth, gay or straight, this community center will anchor the activities and atmosphere everyone enjoys in Rehoboth.

That old Rehoboth bumper sticker, "Keep Rehoboth a Family Town," says it all. And I now make a shameless pitch. We need about $500,000 more. It’s very doable if everyone who loves living and visiting here makes whatever donation, large or small, they can comfortably handle. We can do it a dollar at a time but we need everyone’s help to make it happen. Even if you have felt absolutely no connection to this campaign, I challenge you—turn to page 36 and do something for yourselves and those who will come after us.

After all, years from now, when some homophobic goof ball makes insulting comments to some young gay man or lesbian just arriving in town, we want them to be able to head to the community center and discover what a safe and heartwarming hometown this can be.

And by the way, just last month I ran into those two women whose home I had visited so many years ago on my coming out journey. They have a home here now and I watched them joyously purchase one of the paintings auctioned at the Founder’s Circle Ball last month. I guess that’s why they call it a Founder’s CIRCLE. What comes around goes around, and we want to make sure the tradition continues.