the school room one day I dashed off to the obvious destination, only to backtrack a part of the way and enter the cloakroom from the school corridor. I just had to wear that tam, and wear it I did--for all of thirty seconds. I was so fearful of discovery that I threw it on the floor and rushed back to my seat. I still recall that look of amazement on the teacher's face at my hurried, and very flushed entrance, she was so concerned that she asked if I was all right. Whatever answer I gave her has long since escap- ed my memory, but it most definitely was not the truth. How could I ever have told her how wonderful it seemed just to touch that soft fabric, to plop it on my uncombed thatch, to know I was really wearing it. Even if I had known the words, the will to say them was lacking.

There were no girls in our house, only boys. So the only dresses belonged to Mother, and they were far too large for fit, but just right for delight. Many times I slipped into my parents' room and touched and admired her clothes. If there was an oppor- tunity, I wore them, rising on tiptoe to keep the long skirts from underfoot. And when two girl cousins moved to our town from the south, I invaded their closets at every chance. Naturally, I thought I was undiscovered, until one day the older of them sugg- ested that we all wear dresses and have a party. I cannot forget her answer, nor her level gaze, when I refused, protesting loudly. All she said was, "I really thought that you wanted to.

So my early experiences are no different than those of so many of the rest of you...the early stirrings, without reason and without understanding. The tremendous desire, and the frustration s and then finally, realization. This realization has come to me in a very beautiful way, and I would like to share my experiences, insomuch as a few printed pages and some photographs can offer.

I have been married, have fathered five children and am about to become a Grandpa any day now, a title I am certainly looking for- ward to. I have a fine job, one which I definitely enjoy, and which has brought me some honors and many benefits. The men I work with are all hairy chested so-and-so types, and have accepted me into their ranks without question. Yet, when I rush home from the office and enter my own world of delight, that is when I truly live.

As a man, I am far from handsome. .people constantly think I am mad at the world, so sorry is my countenance. Jug handle ears, deep-set eyes, too much nose, and a long jaw.

3.

But after an intric-