Author: Ron Stempkowski
Home Is Where the Dead Hookers Are
My house never feels more like a home than when it’s brimming with people I love. Recently, my A-List (Retta, Kathy, Alan and Tina) had the opportunity to get together–for the first... Read More
The Birthday Tradition
I always approach the Creticos Cancer Center with great reverence. For all the caring work that is done there by the nurses and staff. And all the courage shown by the patients who are treated there, ... Read More
Connecting Purpose to Loss
Why was I crying as I walked down the street, carrying a salad I’d picked up for lunch? No, not because I’m a moosh bag who sobs to any decently scored coffee commercial around the holida... Read More
Called On Account of Rain
As I’ve written before, I love to go camping—partly for its own sake but partly (probably mostly) because it was something Ken introduced me to. I’m not a deep woods camper, but a give me a beau... Read More
There’s No Place Like It
There is no doubt how much I love living in Chicago; how much I love my home and my neighborhood. But when I have a little time off, there is something I love about going to my hometown to see my folk... Read More
My Past and Present with Pride
As I talked with my friends and enjoyed the community and fellowship of my first Pride event–on the Circle in Indianapolis–a man walked slowly and deliberately through the celebration. ... Read More
Safe Spaces & Being Your Authentic Self
While on the L heading to work last week, I received a tweet from a BBC reporter who wanted my input about why LGBT people view gay bars/clubs as safe spaces. In the wake of the Orlando shootings,... Read More
The Sanctuary of Sameness
The first gay bar I ever went to in Chicago was a small but colorful neighborhood bar called Buddie’s. I’d found it wandering down Clark Street while my friend Denise, who had driven us th... Read More