137

The story I was trying to get was a touchy one. I
felt I was walking on eggs. What I wanted to find
out is how does a homosexual, one like Myrtle, who
has been popular with thousands of friends, adjust
to old age. Behind the facade of bright chatter, all
of it consisting of old, well-rehearsed gags, was an
unhappy, lonely old man. How did he spend his
days?

Finally, Myrtle relaxed long enough to be serious
and level, “You think I’m nuts because I sew. It’s to
keep me from going bats. I don’t know what I’'m
sewing and for what reason. I've never been a
reader, so books are out. I get tired of the idiot box.
I used to be a good cook, but I don’t see myself
whipping up French cuisine for myself.

“I haven’t got a relative in the world. All the old
faggots I knew are dead or moved ‘to other cities.
The young ones couldn’t care less if I lived or died.
They don’t want to hear my foolish old stories about

pre-war Paris. Why should they? That’s history,

just like me.

“I like kids, so I’'m grateful when the baby-sitting
jobs comes along. There’s a couple in this building
with two five-year olds. I take them to the park once
a week. That’s fun. And I hate every damned grand-
father I see: They’ve got something to live for. Me,