men make love to other men?" She said, "Yes, they do. That's called homosexuality and in Plato's time it was very much accepted, even preferred because one's partner was more likely to be one's intellectual equal. And by the way, women make love to other women too." And then came the shocker. There HAD been an inkling. My mother and a neightbor had laughingly discussed Jay, a handsome, slender, dark-haired young man who just didn't care for girls. And one night at a high school entertainment the popular girls had started laughing and looking towards Jay. I hadn't been allowed to associate with these girls "for fear of learning things from them" so I snatched the opportunity to be one of them and joined in the fun. Now as I sat on by the philosophy teacher and remembered the hurt in Jay's eyes my fight with the Bible was temporarily forgotten as a sentence from it returned to me: "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do." I had certainly not known what I was doing or I wouldn't have done it and I take exception to Dr. Leo Zeff, Berkeley psychologist, who says we have only ourselves to blame. I can remember being kind since three and only the terrible need to belong could have transcended my inclination not to wound. Well-meaning parents would do well to allow their children to belong. The urge is so strong that teen-agers may do anything to satisfy it. And so much the better if they do "learn something."

Forgive me Jay and I hope life has been good to you. You sang so beautifully for us that night-"In the Garden of Tomorrow,""Love Brings a Little Gift of Roses" and you were so stylish in your navy blue blazer and white flannel trousers.

During my last year of college Sterling came along, looking like Leslie Howard and adjusting to the fact that he was a homosexual. I had a year ahead without the boy I hoped to marry (he'd graduated and gone away) so the platonic romance of the campus was begun. We lunched, dined, danced, went to picnics, movies, operas. I helped my new friend with his atrocious post-teen behavior, acted as the brother I'd never had, as well as my study partner and steady date. Life was wonderful until the day prohibition was repealed. Of course we celebrated, accompanied by a heterosexual couple; and at the end of the evening we just couldn't say goodby so logic and liquor decided that Sterling and the male graduating senior should take the hide-abed in my living room and the female law student should sleep with me in the bedroom. Weretired very quietly, had a large quiet breakfast and slipped off quietly to classes, much the better for the celebration; but in the afternoon the landlady arrived, greatly distraught, to tell me the unmarried brother and sister who lived over me, completely unbeknownst to me, were on their way to the office of the dean of women to ask that I be expelled. Landlady felt I could do no wrong, didn't care if I did, and left to intercede. My roommate returned, having been away all night, and informed me she was moving, mattachine REVIEW

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as her boy friend was about to pop the question and she couldn't have her chances jeopardized. Her boy friend suddenly couldn't come over any more because he was teaching on the campus, was awaiting an appointment at Harvard and couldn't have his chances jeopardized.

After a week of "what will I do" and "what will people think?" the news arrived that I would be allowed to graduate. Sterling dropped by to take me to luncheon just as the moralist couple approached their front door. He leaped to my front door and bellowed "Who's paying for this apartment?" Then the business of my virtue had to be gone into all over again and I do not have my homosexual bachelor friend to thank for my bachelor of arts degree.

On the strength of 28 units in clinical psychology I was given a job as assistant to the kindest, smartest psychiatrist in all the world, Vaclav H. Podstata of San Francisco and was plunged immediately into the midst of alarge private practice. The psych courses had not included one word about homosexuality but thanks to Plato, my first philosophy teacher, and Sterling, my rapport with the homosexual was immediate. They were our best patients -the most cooperative and communicative. Those were the days when we gave them endocrine injections-in a frankly experimental way-and they spoke of getting over their homosexuality. The medication didn't cure them but we believed that it and our friendliness gave them what we called a better tone of feeling.

After I got married the great night came when Sterling and his roommate, George, were to visit in my new home and meet my very new husband. Unrequested by me Charles kept on his office shoes and we waited all evening but Sterling didn't show or call. I suppose it was because I'd asked him to tone it down a bit; girl friends had said he was too noisy. Charles was a lawyer and knew almost nothing about homosexuals and I very much wanted him to like my old friend so that we could all have some more good times together. At Christmas Sterling sent a card but all it said was "To my little flower"-no explanation-so then, I became offended.

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Dear Sterling, Now I realize how much you were going through and perhaps you're finally willing to admit that heterosexuals have been dealt rather a wry deal themselves-baving to mate with someone of the opposite sex who is so very differ ent psychologically. Let's forgive each other our irritabili. ties. If you read this, send me your current address and l'u answer your Christmas card of long ago. We should never have forfeited our fabulous friendship.,

Sterling had become a high school English teacher, loved his work and was doing an excellent and probably a blameless job. However his draft 27