Clashing Addictions

When I was in college, unbeknownst to me at first, my academic advisor was gay. His name was Henry, but everyone called him Hank. He taught screenwriting, and that's where I met him. I took his screenwriting class. He had been the screenwriter on a couple of popular movies.

His first class was bizarre, in that Hank had a meltdown. He had assigned some reading before the first class. When he asked a student a question about the assignment, and the student looked down and didn't speak, Hank took it that the student hadn't read the assignment. Hank blew up and stomped out of class telling us all to grow up.

What happened was the student had a speech impediment and was having difficulty voicing his words. When the smoke cleared, Hank, embarrassed by his childish behavior, apologized to the class.

It was obvious that Hank, besides being a brilliant writer, was high strung. We all liked him and felt privileged to be in his class. He was Jewish and very talented.

I needed an advisor, so instead of being assigned one from the college pool, I asked Hank if he would be my advisor. He looked at me for the longest time through sensitive, Jewish eyes, then asked why I had asked him. I'd been having grade problems, in fact I was on academic probation. I told him I needed a friend.

A week later, he told me he was gay and what I had told him about needing a friend sent him “cruising” the Strip.

I was flabbergasted. He had a beautiful wife, and two children, one of them Afro American and adopted. Here I am from small town Iowa and not totally understanding what homosexuality was. It made me wonder about myself. Why had I chosen Hank to be my advisor? Was there something wrong with me?

The worst part about our relationship was that Hank was always propositioning me. It was embarrassing and repulsive. If I'd known then what I know now, I could have gotten Hank in serious trouble with the college — a professor propositioning a student of the same sex. I liked him too much to betray him.

I was in the early stages of alcoholism. I tried to talk to Hank about it, that I was having problems with drunkenness and feared I was an alcoholic. He didn't understand it, and looked on intoxication as something stupid. In the Jewish community where he was raised, New York City, over indulgence was frowned on. People who drank too much were considered of low intelligence.

I didn't understand his attraction to men, he didn't understand my attraction to liquor.

I'm not sure what happened, I think maybe the college got wind of his sexual escapades. They refused him tenure. He also told me that his wife told him she didn't want to be married to a gay man. Hank and his family moved on.

Before he left he took me for a drive. He was so emotional he blindly drove off into a ditch. I couldn't believe it. We had to have a farmer pull his car out. The farmer asked for $20. Hank gave him $10.

A while back I Googled his name. His obituary popped up. Hank had been quite successful at a smaller college. The students loved him and he was named Teacher of the Year a couple of times. His survivors were a wife of close to 50 years and two adult children. I wondered if he had kept his homosexuality under wrap. I think he did, but I dunno.

I wondered if he had ever Googled my name and found out that I am 36 years clean and sober, write a weekly newspaper column and have published several books.

We both had our addictions. We both survived. We both thrived.

Have a good story? Call or text Curt Swarm in Mt. Pleasant at 319-217-0526 or email him at curtswarm@yahoo.com. Curt is available for public speaking.