We had a close family friend who we referred to as “Uncle Randy”, who was gay. I knew he was called “gay”, but I had no idea what that meant, other than he played the piano and wasn’t ever going to get married. We were invited to Mardi Gras parties at his apartment were we hung out and sang showtunes with all his gay friends, and no one ever felt the need to clue in a bunch of kids. I’m pretty sure I believed being gay meant devoting your life to musical theater instead of getting married. I never liked Uncle Randy’s roommate. He told us he was cranky because he hated kids. At least he was honest. He had a poodle named, “Gus”. My sister asked Uncle Randy if his roommate was gay too and he confirmed that he was. My sister then asked why the roommate didn’t ever sing like the rest and Uncle Randy said, “Yeah, Phil? Why DON’T you?” My mom was literally 28 years old before she figured out what was going on with Aunt Mary and her lifelong friend, Kansas.