1990 was not my best year, nor was it the worst. I felt like I was in limbo, however, biding my time in Ann Arbor until I could find my way back home to the Southwest. I continued to work at the Undergraduate Library, honing my reference and instruction skills, which I had started to develop when I was hired at the University of Michigan Undergraduate Library in the Fall of 1987. By this point, I had taught scores of classes and had spent hundreds of hours on the reference desk.  I had also begun to train reference assistants and to take on classes outside the usual Psychology and English courses we taught every semester. I also continued my involvement in diversity work, participating as a member of the Library Diversity Council, planning film festivals, exhibits and other programs, and engaging in continuous dialogue with my colleagues about issues like racism, sexism and homophobia. I helped co-found the Gay and Lesbian Library Association, was a member of a campus Latino support group called La Alianza, and had worked diligently to enhance the Undergraduate Library’s collections of Chicano literature and Gay studies materials. I felt good about this work in particular. I also continued in the Residency program, and enjoyed the seminars and other learning opportunities that were planned for us by the Library administration. I attended seminars with people like Sharon Hogan, Peter Hernon and the very colorful and radical Sanford Berman. My colleagues in the Residency program were very bright and interesting,  and I enjoyed their company. I still intensely disliked my immediate supervisor however, as she continued to try to hold me back. There was no pleasing her. She didn’t encourage me to go up for a promotion, but the Library administration did. Lucy Cohen, the head of personnel encouraged me to apply, so I went for it, and was granted a promotion to associate librarian in early 1991, in spite of my supervisor’s opinions about my worth. I wasn’t the only one to have issues with her. My colleague Karen had several major run-ins with her as did others in the department. She was a control freak and didn’t think any of us could do as good a job as she could. By the following year, she was “encouraged” by the Library administration to move on, so she started taking courses in the library school to pursue a PhD and was gone shortly thereafter.

My personal life was a mess. Brent and I continued to have our ups and downs. We just couldn’t please each other any longer, and he was never happy. He insisted that I continue going to counseling, which I did, although I thought it was a big waste of time and money. By the end of the year, he moved out for good and our relationship was over. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to work out. We weren’t a good match for each other, and we finally gave up trying to make it work. While at one point, the year before, I was infatuated with someone else, when Brent and I broke up there weren’t any other guys in my life in whom I was interested. By the end of the year, I was free as a bird, but lonely. I longed to go home.

I had good friends, however, and I had good times with them. My two friends Rhett and Judy were great drinking buddies. We would go out to the Blind Pig on Friday nights with my friend Mary Lynn, who was dating Rhett at the time, and have a blast, listening to live music, playing pool and dancing. The country band that played live music always opened with song, Apartment #9, an old Tammy Wynette classic. I just fell in love with that tune and went out in search of all the Tammy Wynette recordings I could fine. My friends and I would also go out bowling on Sunday afternoons. We all liked to drink and smoke weed, and had a great time together. My friend LeAnne was also a lot of fun, and I confided lots of things to her. She was, as I’ve said before, a bit on the kooky side, and had lots of issues, but she was always fun to talk to, and we got along great.

In 1990, I had also met another person who was very interesting. His name was Rupert Whitaker. I can’t remember how we met but h was a graduate student, and very interested in gay men’s literature. Somehow he found out that I was knowledgeable about the topic, and when we met he asked for reading recommendations, which I was more than happy to provide. We soon became good friends and would remain so for the entire year. The whole time we were friends, I had no real idea who Rupert was, but much later I learned that he had contracted HIV in the early 80s and that his partner was one of the first people in England to have died of AIDS. Rupert came from a wealthy family, and when his partner died, he established an AIDS research foundation in his partner’s memory. Rupert was studying to get his PhD when I met him, and he went on to become a well known AIDS researcher and activist, with several advanced degrees, as well as a strong patient advocate. Today he is one of the leading authorities on the virus and has lived longer with it than practically anyone else alive. At some point during our friendship, Rupert turned me on to Buddhism, and I began to attend meetings with him. I wasn’t a very good student however, and dropped out after a few sessions. I did get to meet a Rinpoche however, and that was quite a thrill. I’ll never forget the experience.

I was 31 years old in 1990, still young and “full of life” so to speak. Some people would say I was immature, and in hindsight, I guess I was. It took a long time to slow down, to stop smoking grass and to stop going out to the bars and drinking. I wasn’t happy at Michigan. I knew I needed to get back home sooner or later. I was just biding my time for the opportunity to go back. It would take another two years before I finally made it home.

1990 was also the year I started traveling in earnest. The previous year, I had taken just one trip, and that was to Dallas to attend ALA. In 1990 I took three trips. I went to ALA in Chicago in January and in March, I headed to Tucson with my friend Judy to visit my family, and then in June, it was back again to Chicago for another ALA conference. I loved Chicago, and had a great time exploring it.  As of today, I have visited the city 13 times altogether.

For my first visit there, I thought I would save some money, so I reserved a room at the YMCA on the corner of Clark and Chicago Ave. in the northern part of downtown, but it was a real dump. Everything was old and worn, and it was more like a “residence” than a “hotel”. I had a feeling the place wasn’t going to work out for me. After I checked in, I then went to a gay bar I had read about, The Gentry, on Rush St, and I met an older guy at the bar. We started chatting, and when I told him where I was staying, he was shocked, and he urged me to get the heck out of the Y, telling me that it was was a dump and that there were roaches and other critters everywhere in that place.  I told him I didn’t know where else to go, so he helped me find a room at the Bismark Hotel on Randolph St. The Bismark was a much nicer, but more expensive place, and was once a very elegant hotel. While it cost more, I didn’t have to worry about any bugs whatsoever. Thank God I ran into that guy.

I was in heaven in Chicago. It was a big city with lots to see, and boy I was sure adventurous! I took the train to the Pilsen district and it was a trip riding the train for the first time and seeing areas outside the downtown part of the city. I went there because I knew it had a big Mexicano population, and I wanted to look for Lucha Villa albums and other Mexican music. I bought some cassettes and a cd, but I don’t remember what exactly. The place I went to was called “Discolandia” and it was on W. 18^th St. I also visited the Lozano branch of the public library on 18^th Steet. My friend Pat Tarin had worked there at one point in her career. I got there early in the day, so there wasn’t a lot happening on the streets. I later made my way north to Boystown and ate at El Jardin on Halsted St. and bought an Aretha Franklin 12” single (Get it Right!)  at a record shop on Belmont. I must have also gone to the gay bars since I was up there in that area.

I did a lot of other stuff while in Chicago that particular time. I soaked it all in. I went to the Art Institute of Chicago and the Newberry Library. I tried to find the Peace Museum, and I did, but I think it was closed. I remember I walked a long way that day.

1990 was also the year I got to see Aretha Franklin perform live. It was the thrill of a lifetime to see her. I went with Brent and my friend Judy. I was initially going to go by myself and had bought a ticket, but then Brent and Judy wanted to go also, so I bought two more tickets, but they were up in the balcony, unlike the first ticket which was in the 11th row, much closer to the stage. I was bummed out because I decided to sit with Brent in the balcony and I gave Judy the good seat. She said the sound was perfect, unlike up in the balcony. I was bummed, but at least I got to see Aretha live. She still had her chops in 1990. In my opinion, by the end of the 1990s her voice had changed too much and didn’t sound as good.

I also saw Etta James and Sweet Honey in the Rock this particular year. Unfortunately, Sarah Vaughan  died in 1990. I was very sad about that. I had just seen her perform the previous summer.

My interest in music continued. Not only did I go to concerts, I also collected albums, cassettes and cds. I’ve mentioned before that Ann Arbor was a great place for music buffs. Schoolkids Records, Wazoo Records, Tower Records and other stores stocked some great, hard to find recordings. I became very interested in country music at this time, and started to collect more contemporary country musicians recordings. Carlene Carter, Dwight Yoakam and others were producing some amazing stuff at the time. I also continued to search out Latin music. After my mom died in 1988, I became obsessed with Lucha Villa and other ranchera singers, and was always on the lookout for their recordings. I eventually found her music, spread out all over the country, and I collected it one recording at a time.

I spent Thanksgiving with Brent and his family, and clearly remember that we went with his mom to see Dances with Wolves on Thanksgiving Day in Muskegon. What an amazing movie. The scenery was just breathtaking. By late December, Brent had moved out, and I spent the Christmas break by myself. I don’t remember much about it, but I know Brent wasn’t around. He was gone. We were together for six years altogether. We had some great times, and some very sad times. In the end, we just couldn’t make it work.