Chapter 24 - Revelation

I'm not sure how I managed to study in those weeks between Spring Break and Summer Vacation. From an anonymous student trying to get a degree in business I was catapulted into an icon.

I remember from one of my art classes that an icon was originally a representation of some sacred personage, such as Christ or a saint or an angel, painted usually on a wood surface and venerated itself as sacred. Just like the word 'love,' the word 'icon' had acquired a slew of different meanings. I sure wasn't feeling saintly, but a whole bunch of people seemed to be painting images of me on some very flimsy stock and venerating what they wanted me to be.

At first it was calls for personal appearances for this or that group. The station kept a log of these calls and the messages, not saying if they could actually get them to the mysterious Connie. The college paper wanted to interview me and run it with my picture. One professor even tried to track me down so I could be part of a study she was conducting on strong women.

Yeah, right!

There's an old saying that two can keep a secret if one of them is dead; with half a dozen people knowing that Connie on the radio was actually Conrad, the secret started to bleed out. I had been seen talking to Steve in the cafeteria - you know, that gay guy who whacks off in the pansy club in the basement. Steve just gave such assholes the finger, and speculated loudly just where the asshole would want Steve's finger placed. Not many could handle the derision and fled muttering.

Julie's roommate tried valiantly to spread the word that she had to find other places to be while I screwed her roommate, but that was met with raised eyebrows by those who just knew it was bullshit. Arthur was vastly amused by the whole thing, he knew damn well what Julie and I were doing while he was doing the same thing with his girlfriend.

I've already mentioned the feminist reaction, and mercifully the administration stayed silent.

I started being called Connie more and more. Some guys started avoiding me, some girls actually sought me out. Acutely aware of the campus rumor mill, that could be uncomfortable. Many of those girls were seeking advice on sex, thinking I was sort of both a guy and a girl so I must be an expert. Believe it or not, I had offers. Who would have guessed? I can only conclude that all guys considered themselves experts; not one of them brought up the subject unless it was scatological or pornographic.

I might point out that I did not dress as Connie or even change my normal, grungy college guy wardrobe one iota, but with all the foofaraw I longed to be wearing a bra.

But Connie was a hit. She was invited back as a guest twice more before the end of the semester and her no-nonsense approach and warm empathy toward troubled callers won her a growing audience. Even fifty-odd years later, here I am talking about myself in the third person. I was still trying to keep Conrad and Connie separate.

It got worse when Lloyd had to go for a job interview. The demo tape was responsible in large part, which frustrated and pleased Lloyd alternately. Guess who was invited to be the guest host? I refused until I learned it was going to be a phone interview, I wouldn't have to be face-to-face with the guest. I should have known better - someone started a damned fan club!

The station manager, perhaps knowing he would be graduated and long gone when the shit hit the fan, invited Connie Alfaro to host of a feminist-leaning call-in show during her senior year.

A couple weeks before exams, one of the guys from the student newspaper tracked me down and gave me a photocopy of an article from the Wichita Eagle. Lord knows how he found it, or found me; maybe such skills are part of being an investigative reporter for a newspaper. The article just blew my mind.

Once again, the course of my life was radically changed. My entire belief that I would be unable to do anything about being born a male while I felt like a woman was trashed by a few column-inches of text. You can see the actual article on line. I learned for the first time I really was not alone and there were doctors who could make me into a woman.

I read it, read it again, then walked like a zombie to Julie's dorm and let her read it. The article told how Paula Grossman had successfully transitioned from a man to a woman and was still married and living with her wife and children. The school board had fired her and she was suing. The article was only a few weeks old. This was really happening right now!

In reading the article, I found the name of Christine Jorgenson, so I followed up on that. To my amazement she had started her transition in 1951 - when I was only one year old. During my childhood she was a sensation in the national press before I had even learned to read.

She may have been a national sensation, but she didn't make the news in my home town. Mom and Dad had never heard of her. When all this was going on they couldn't even afford to subscribe to the local paper, let alone the NY Times or any of the nationals. By the time they had become moderately wealthy Christine was no longer in the news.

This time having a concrete clue to act on, I hit the campus library and found her autobiography had been sitting on a shelf there for the entire time I had been a student. Back then you just put your student number on a card in the back of the book and dropped it off at the desk before taking the book. There were a lot of numbers on that card, I was starting to realize that I couldn't be alone, not even on campus!

I cut class and read the book. I missed dinner because I couldn't be bothered. Arthur was understanding when I left the lights on for half an hour after he hit the rack so I could finish the book.

I didn't sleep much that night. I caught up with my sleep in class, which fortunately was a large lecture and I was in the back of the room. Julie lent me her notes when I handed her the book and told her she had to read it. She wouldn't cut class, but she did read it. She handed me the book the next day and said simply: "We have to have Mom find you a doctor when we get home."

The next couple of weeks were several years long, I wanted the vacation to start NOW, dammit.