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April 2011


my (our) books

Fool for Love When You Don't See Me

Someone Like You I'm Your Man

He's The One It Had To Be You

The Mammoth Book of New Gay Erotica Best Gay Erotica 2007

Best Gay Love Stories: New York City Best Gay Love Stories 2005

Three Fortunes In One Cookie The Deal


If you have any of the above books and would like them signed, mail them to:

P.O. Box 131845, Houston, TX., 77219.

Please include three dollars for return postage.

Send email to timothyjlambert@gmail.com

Warning: This blog may contain homosexuals which in the states of California and Maine have been alleged to destroy the sanctity of marriage. Read at your own risk.


recommended courses of action

Scout's Honor Rescue is an all-breed, no-kill, Not-For-Profit 501(c)(3) animal rescue organization committed to bringing courage, character and compassion to Houston's homeless pet population and making a positive difference in the lives of these stray and abandoned animals and the Houston community as a whole. 100% of every dollar donated goes directly to saving the life of a homeless animal.

Scouts Honor Rescue Inc.

locally known


maine AIDS alliance

global AIDS alliance


AIDS foundation houston

bering omega community services

frannie peabody center

Timothy's hair by Larry Henderson Hair Design.

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stratford on guy

My flight to Maine at the end of June wasn't direct. First, I had to fly to Atlanta, and then to Portland, Maine. Going back, I changed planes in Detroit, and then on to Houston. I don't enjoy flying. I'm afraid of heights. I'm afraid of falling. I'm afraid of death. Put me in a tin can a few miles up in the air and those fears run on a constant loop in my head. There were storms all along the Gulf Coast, which made the flight to Atlanta quite turbulent. But my seatmate, a girl about ten years old, diverted my attention from the shaking and shuddering by talking about how she and the rest of her missionary family and friends were flying onward to Brazil, where they'd take another flight to someplace I'd never heard of before, and then hop on a boat to their final destination. All in all, a fourteen hour journey into the wilds of South America. However, they'd be giving away most of their possessions, so at least the trip home would be lighter. She eyed me suspiciously when I asked if I could use her tray table to take this picture:

snakes on a plane!

Snakes on a plane!

The flight from Atlanta to Maine was on a larger plane with considerably less rain, though I'd rather been on a train. Even though there was no turbulence, I was still worried about falling, so I was grateful to the little boy sitting across the aisle from me. With his dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and winning smile, all he needed was a sweater tied around his shoulders and he could've been a cover model for Ralph Lauren's Fall toddler clothes catalogue. He didn't cry at all during the flight and was quite good. Every now and then he'd catch me looking at him and would stick his tongue out at me. I'd do the same to him, much to his delight. He was a good distraction and a cool kid. I wish I'd gotten his mother's number so I could fix him up with Hanley.


I barely made my flight home because my parents obtained video of our high school musicals in 1989 and 1990, Guys and Dolls and Anything Goes. (Observant Timothy James Beck readers will know that these are two musicals mentioned in our first novel, It Had To Be You.) I didn't want to watch them, which my mother couldn't understand. I was in them, so obviously I couldn't see them. (Other than watching from the wings, which is a totally different perspective.) I have my memories of how the shows went and of the praise received from family and friends afterward, not to mention the thrill and excitement of being part of the production. Why tamper with that? And who really likes to see and hear themselves on video, especially your awkward teen years? Thank you, but no.


Of course, I watched them. By the time Anything Goes ended and teenaged Tim and company were taking their bows, I realized I had about an hour to drive forty miles, return a rental Cube, and catch a plane. Gadzooks! Somehow, I made the drive in twenty minutes. (Speeding is dangerous, kids!) I thanked the Cube for being a great car and returned it to Hertz, and dashed inside to catch my flight. Because a couple of the 9/11 terrorists went through Portland, Maine, there have always been armed National Guards at the security screening checkpoint at Portland's airport every time I've gone home since then. Nothing makes an already nervous passenger even more anxious than the sight of machine guns. But they weren't there, this time. Strange. I didn't have time to consider that, anyway, because I was dashing for my gate, waving my boarding pass, and realizing I hadn't run anywhere since 1998. We'll talk about that another day. I sat next to a woman about my age who had a little girl about Hanley's age. She was trying to get her daughter to eat something, anything, but the little girl kept pushing everything away. Just like H, I thought. I delved into my manny bag and brought out my bag of Craisins. I ate a few, to prove they weren't poisoned, and offered them, saying, "Want to try these? My little girl loves them." My little girl; my employer. Semantics. She said, "Sure. Why not?" and offered a handful to her daughter. Curious, the girl took them in hand, smelled the Craisins, and then ate them. They were a hit, so I tucked the bag into the seat pocket and said, "I'll leave them here for the duration, in case you need them again." The young mother thanked me and insisted that she didn't want to be a bother. During the rest of the flight I assisted in a diaper change, picked up several toys from the floor, bounced the baby on my knee (Not an easy task on a plane, let me tell you.), and surrendered the rest of my Craisins.


There were no children on my flight from Detroit to Houston, which worried me considerably. Every other flight I'd taken during my journey to and from Maine had a child on it who seemed placed by Fate to keep our plane in the air, or, at the very least, keep me distracted from my fears and entertained. No such luck, this time. However, I was seated in the emergency exit row, which meant I had lots of leg room. And there was a very attractive man seated across the aisle. Seemed like a fair trade. We were flying to the same place, so maybe we were meant to meet, get to know each other, start dating, fall in love, marry in a state where gay marriage is legal before it's made illegal again, and then adopt a baby of our own. It seemed logical to me, but he never even looked at me. At least we didn't crash.