Frank Moulton was a gangly kid. Thin as a reed, and six foot three. He was a high school geek. Actually, the word "geek" did not exist when we were classmates.
We were children of the Depression, when Little League, Soccer Moms, structured, intensive athletics for all youth was a fantasy for the future. Unless you were a truly gifted athlete, with a bent for football or basketball, you missed any chance to participate in organized sports.
That is the way it was, and I, like Frank, was a geek.
Our parents were too busy keeping food on the table and the rent paid to find time to encourage shy, insecure youngsters into organized sports...
Later in life, while in college, I did participate in inner-collegiate swimming events, but that is another story.
Frank and I formed a friendship that gave us both strength in those difficult days as the Depression faded away with America's entrance into World War II on December 7, 1941. We were painfully aware of the Depression, and we both had part-time jobs. Frank worked at Walgreen's Drug Store, in the old Glen Ellyn Bank Building, and I was a newspaper carrier for the Chicago Daily News, and later went to work for the National Tea Co. as a produce clerk.
We were aware of what our hormones were screaming. Instinctively, we knew our preference inclined heavily, and dangerously, for the boys in school. Gay Rights were light years in the future. We knew who we were, but didn't know how to put a "word" on it. We found comfort in the fact that we were kindred souls. His friendship was one of naive closeness, a pillar of fortitude and guidance during some extremely difficult times...we muddled through the morass of social rejection that can only come from the pecking order cruelty of any high school social structure.
I escaped into the Navy, leaving for Boot Camp one day after graduation; abandoning trauma, depression, rejection..and Frank.
Without a doubt, this move changed my life. I could have easily disintegrated into a life ending despair. My reprieve was the US Navy.
But what about Frank?
After graduation, he continued to work at Walgreen's, got drafted into the Army in late 1944, and was felled by a sniper's bullet on the Island of Luzon, just a few short weeks before the war came to a victorious end...
Frank was the only member of the Glenbard Class of 1944 to lose his life for his country.
And he was gay.
Who knows where his life may have led him? With his inner sweetness, had this gentle soul survived the war, he could have found himself teaching, or with a degree in law or medicine..or maybe garbage collecting. It is now a moot issue. His potential and promise belong to the ages.
We have come a long way since those days when we were lost, confused high school boys. I'm grateful that I have survived this long to witness the evolution of incredible progress.
In no small way, we owe a lot to Pvt. Frank Moulton. His sacrifice allowed our great country to remain strong and free. With gays emerging closer to virtual and total civil rights, we are far more integrated into the social framework than we were in 1944. Sadly, as we enter the new millennium, there are still many countries where gay men and women are imprisoned, or put to death.
So, again, Thank You, dear Frank. It is with special pride that I honor you as I march proudly with Palm Springs Gay Veterans in our Pride Parade, and, as I did in the Palm Springs Veteran's Day Parade .
Your memory will endure.
- 30 -
(Daryl calls his column "Tilting at Windmills")
