To keep things discrete, I would always rent a room down the hall from him. Every weekend, he and I would make these “great escapes” as I would call them, go into the city to be with each other and see the local culture. Then, out of the blue one week as I was planning and looking forward to another sex filled weekend, Johnny called me aside and out of earshot from the others said to me, “I can no longer meet you, ever again.” I was devastated. So, I asked him, “Why?” He said, “Because you are not really a woman; I want have children and be a father.” I was crushed like so many small pebbles. Afterwards, I went back to the barracks and cried for hours, some of the trainees asked what was going on. I lied and told them there had been a death in the family. I pushed myself through training all week, not thinking about it, but just doing it. I decided these men were not going to control me and my feelings anymore. Almost on a lark, I decided that I would go into town and meet some people not connected with the military in any manner. I had Anne’s drive and once I set my mind to it, I went into the town and saw the colors and the personalities, I also saw the prostitutes on the street corner. Yes, in some respects Manhattan, Kansas was not much better than Manhattan, New York, but definitely not worse.

Strong boned, with matching body, her eyes were still her strongest facial feature, they were a brownish green, but they had sadness to them, like the pressures of already living a longer life than her true age. She was vivacious, but deadly serious about her classes; she wanted to go to school to get a Bachelor of Science in Liberal Arts. Then she wanted to go back and get a Masters degree in Law, which would take her four more years. As a mild surprise to me, yet one of my desires was that she invited me to her Purim party. This was my first real chance to see how a different group of peoples lived. They had a religion and cultural practices I knew so little of, but were of an ethnic group that was similar to mine. Theirs and other peoples like hers already had a much longer history of suffering at the hands of others than mine from a time longer than Blacks in America had. I loved the opportunity to celebrate in ritual and rite, especially a moment in time from the Old Testament that is so relevant for all of humanity, even today. In the Book of Esther, Chapter 9, Verses 1 through 22 was the story of how serious the “eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth” philosophy the Jews were following when they took vengeance on those who had smote their mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters.

I started having visions that evening of being his girlfriend and if I was truly lucky, later the wife of a professional baseball player. Even though it was early in our relationship and we were not even serious yet, I could still dream, or could not I? I could also tell we were fast developing more than a just a simple friendship between us. Our sexual attraction was sparking, and I wanted to start a fire right there. We kissed at the table, and all my parts jumped to attention. My nipples became erect and so did my penis. This was highly unusual because the hormones I was taking normally kept this from happening. That first night together started with wondering and longing looks into each others eyes, as if we were both trying to see each others soul, and it ended with heavy petting and deep lingering kisses, but that was it. It felt so good to be with a man that wanted me for more than a moment. Based on my previous experiences, I could have taken him places that would have made his parts pop, but I played the innocent little girl to his manly self. He loved thinking he was in charge, and I loved letting him think so. We parted company that evening wanting each other more than ever.

There must have been a twenty-five to thirty pairs of panties in all shapes, sizes, and colors hanging from the branches. To say the least, while it may not have been an amazing sight, it was definitely an amusing one. Dede went on with one more question before answering mine, “Do you see the yellow pair up high in the tree, their mine?” She continued, “You have to throw a pair from the window and get them up a branch, any branch. It is good luck to do so and also a lesson for the next girl of why she is here.” I had bought several pair of panties before coming to the hospital, plus one that I had for some time, it was a “g-string” that I had used to bundle that which I was now getting rid of. In an instant, I ran back to my room and opened my drawer to get it. It was so fitting I thought as I grabbed it from the drawer. By this time Dede had made her way to the window and was waiting for me. I lifted the window and made like it was a sling shot with one part of the elastic hooked over my thumb, I pulled back the other end as hard as I could without ripping it and let it fly. It was like a weight was coming off of my shoulders as it flew through the air and became tangled in a fork of a branch.

I awoke late that afternoon still in the recovery room. My legs were restrained to keep the stitches from being torn. With both my hands I lifted the covering. Between the swelling, bandages and gauzes where my penis used to be, it seemed that I may have still had it! While I was feeling no pain, my entire body felt like it had been in a workout. As I looked down at myself, I saw a catheter coming out of my pelvic area with a “Foley bag” attached to the side of the gurney I was resting on. All was well in the world of Millicent Bernice Carter. The mission I had been on for the better part of ten years was a feat accomplished. There were no more unwanted parts on my body. I was now the woman on the outside, as well as on the inside. I always thought of myself as a woman inwardly, even if the rest of the world had not, now no amount of bigotry, ignorance or laws could change that fact now. It was such a relief. As I lay there staring first at the area of my body where the surgery had taken away any semblance of maleness, I looked up at the ceiling and started praying first by giving thanks to God most high, and for Jesse, Anne, and the rest of the family. As I finished my prayer, part of a passage from the Book of James came to my mind. It was from Chapter One, Verses 16 through 20. I could not remember it all, so I pulled the Bible from the night stand, leafed through until I found it, then read it silently to my self.

...Do not err, my beloved brethren.
Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.
Of his own will begat he us with the word of truth, that we should be a kind of first fruits of his creatures.
Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath: For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God.

As I came out of the bathroom, the lights in the room were all out, the curtains were drawn tight and there was some pop or soul music playing on the bedside clock radio. I do not remember who the artist was singing. He was already nude, and with a complete erection. He motioned for me to lie on the bed beside him and I honored his request. We kissed softly for a few minutes, getting used to each others bodies again. He wasted no time at all in feeling me between my thighs, in a flash he jumped out and said, “It’s gone, it’s truly gone!” I laughed at his reaction and told him in a very serious and sarcastic tone, “Remember what you said to me back at Fort Riley when you broke my heart that day?” He said, “What do you mean?” He tried to act like he could not remember that time. I told him verbatim, “I can no longer meet you, ever again.” Then I went on and reminded him of what he last said to me, “Because you are not really a woman; I want have children and be a father.” I also told him how he had crushed my ego like so many small pebbles under a hammer’s blow. I got up from the bed leaving him lying there contemplating his words of that day and his actions of this one. Before he could say another word, I was dressed in minute and walked back into the room as he lay nude, but now with a sheet over his private parts. I told him in a mean spirited manner, “Looks like you have the room to yourself and some matters to take up between your hand and your pecker, cuz’ I am out of here Johnny.” I caught a cab home and smiled, laughed and talked to my self all the way home; it was a great conversation I had with my ghost. The poor cabdriver must have thought I was a bit loony.

He told me, “I’ve wanted to see you so bad for the last month; I feel you are the only person who can help me.” I asked him what he meant by that. He asked me if I remembered what he said about his wife not letting me be me. I said “Yes, what was that all about anyways?” He continued with a strange reply, “I love to do things she does not approve of.” “What things could that be?” Coyly I asked. Even though we were in a booth way back in the corner of a loud room and nobody cared what we were talking about, he looked around the room to see if anybody else was there that could be listening and then he said in a boyish tone again, “I love to put on make up, wear wigs and dress up in women’s clothing.” I was mildly surprised, but having experienced similar feelings in my youth as I was growing up to become Millye I could understand the issues he was facing. As we talked about his youth and how far back in his life he had been dressing as a women he just said in a serious tone, but with the same boyish charm, “Please show “him” how to do his makeup and what clothes to wear?” I asked “Why me, why not somebody else?” He said, “Because, you look so womanly.” I told him, “That’s because I was born very girlish to begin with, but with a small penis and a distended testicle.” I went on and said, “There is only so much I can do for you, so please do not expect miracles.” He laughed out loud and said, “Point well taken.” He then pointed to his suitcase and said, “I think I have everything here that I need to become that “impossible woman.” I laughed out loud at his comment, because of the past times in my life that I had used that very phrase to describe my journey.

Spring was almost here and it was only a few weeks after the death of momma when I made a snap decision. My schooling had not gotten me the transfer I had hoped for, my dates were all of a sudden becoming more stressful, the nightlife in Chicago had taken on a creepier feel and I was feeling like my small world was becoming constricted and difficult to live in. Out of the blue, I called Bubba one evening and asked him how Phoenix was treating him. He launched into one of his half brotherly, half fatherly tones as he spoke, “Oh child. I love living here, even though Phoenix is so small compared to Chicago. There is not much of a night life, and the gay scene is nothing like Chicago either, but there are wide open opportunities to make money, if you have the desire and the ability to deal with the climate.” I was intrigued to say the least, and though I always considered my self to be somewhat independent, I had found I was most comfortable with some family around, if nothing but a support mechanism. I told him that I was thinking about moving out there to live, and then asked him if it would be alright if I stayed with him again. It was silent, but I could still hear him shuddering at the other end of the line. A moment later he asked, “Why little sister, why must you follow me?” I launched into my routine, “Oh Bubba, cause I love you so and I am missing you even more now that...

As I worked the Pediatric Unit F-2 through most of 1975, I got to know a few of the nurses, as well as some of the doctors. They were all nice enough, every one treated me with respect, and I enjoyed working there for the time I was there, but the diversity of people was nothing like Chicago, or even Detroit. I thought maybe this was the hindrance to feeling truly contented. I reached out as a way to better integrate, but there was mostly mild rebuffing and massive excuses. Inside my ghost was churning though, there was an emptiness that haunted me now; it like a promise unfulfilled, what was lacking I asked myself in my prayers? In my dreams that evening as I floated through the ether, I was seeing small children in the hospital from my days of serving community service in Detroit.

He asked if I would like to go out for drinks with some of his friends. I had not partied in a couple of months, and besides I thought, “Even though I was jobless, as a single, good looking black woman, how many drinks would I have to buy?” Come to find out that number was what I expected, zero, none, zilch. I met them at a restaurant and bar called Trader Vic’s. It was part of a chain of themed restaurants with this one in Scottsdale and it was a place to be seen while drinking their signature tasty and very colorful beverage, the Mai Tai. It was also a place to be seen and I had not taken the time to frequent the place. Mainly because of the distance to drive to Scottsdale, and secondly I did not know anybody in the town. The taste of those Mai Tais, the smells coming from Trader Vic’s kitchen and the atmosphere of the place made me want to come back again. The Polynesian cuisine we had during the evening was excellent and the drinks were good too, but the real treat was that one of Bill’s friends was taking a serious interest in me, and I reciprocated of course. When a girl feels the need for the ‘bunch’ then all bets are off.

On the inside it was all mirrors with hand prints on them from the girls using them as support as they leaned into the men. The chairs had the usual grime of a thousand dirty hands, and the stage well it was just big enough to have a pole for swinging and not too much else. It was not unlike so many other dives, and it was obviously an adult oriented bar with either topless table shows or full nude shows in private rooms. I found out in minutes that there were trailers out back for extended hourly stays. At the time it was in an unregulated part of the Salt River Bottom. I met Rick inside before finding Casey without him actually introducing himself. As we spoke, he was eyeing my body up and down like I was a cut of meat hanging in the butcher’s shop window. I had made it easy for him because I was wearing jean cut-offs and a titty-top that barely covered my breasts. He asked me if I was dancing that evening. I acted nonchalantly and told him I had never done anything like that before, but yes I was here to try for the first time. Of course I was lying, but I wanted to project the image of a good girl. He looked at me and said in all seriousness, “With that tight body you can make $500 in a weekend.” That perked up my ears very quick, especially knowing that my only income was from Sak’s, which was only part time and how much money I had at the time. So I asked him, “Is it topless, nude, and/or full service?”

The next few weeks of the holidays of 1983 were nothing like the years, no the decades before I had experienced with any other man. Don and I were going out on dates almost every other day, or we were at my house partying. He would take me to Garcia’s Restaurant, and I had a passion for Mexican food. We would go to the movies a lot and during more than one cheap date I thought, “I can take myself here, but he made me laugh going to, while we were there, and coming back.” I also found that I could be open and honest with him in a manner that stripped away the facade. When we had our first sexual intercourse, I told him who I was and where I came from as a human being. I thought this would illicit a reaction, just not the one I got. Don just got this big goofy grin on his face and said, “I’ve been looking for you for sometime.” The words startled me for a second; then I asked, “What do you mean by that?” His answer was one I had not heard before, it was lengthy and definitely thought out.

The business name Buffalo Häus was combined from of course the North American Bison, or buffalo and the German word ‘häus’ for house. One part of my choice for my business name imparted strength and protection, while the other gave notice of shelter, a comforting place to be against the elements. For all of the Indian tribes that lived near or within the Great Plains of North America, the buffalo was their most important food resource. The health and well being of the tribe was tied to the herd. Though the buffalo is a strange looking beast indeed with somewhat gamy tasting meat; it was an integral part of almost all aspects of the Plains Indians lives for millennia. The different tribes that hunted the buffalo had many things in common and competition...
 
What is Life?
It is the flash of a firefly in the night.
It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime.
It is the little shadow which runs across the grass, and looses itself in the sunset.

...I felt the poem captured the essence of what Buffalo Häus would be, a place where those in need, but without the monies to have of their own could find shelter against the weather, with love around them as they recoup for living, or prepare for the next step back to where we all come from. My minds eye was seeing the buffalo’s breath through the millennia, the strength of it stamping at the snow as it was searching for food, caring for its young and old within the herd as best they were able.

Thoughts about some of my travels as a youth, then especially the ones to Germany and through Europe with Margaret all passed through my minds eye once again. My first encounter with Don passed before me again; it was some seventeen years ago now, but his scraggly hair and skinny self was fresh in my mind that night at the Village on Camelback. Now he was a little greyer, definitely heavier and a lot more sensitive. I smiled as I realized the lines and circles I had journeyed along intersected paths with others when least expected, but most appreciated. Those journeys had brought me to my husband of almost ten years, a legal marriage and over two and half decades of good relations with the community. The changes I had gone through took me from that uncertain world of selfishness and a lifestyle of narcissism, to one diametrically opposed to those early value systems espousing the value of giving to those in need. I cried tears of joy as Don, Blaze and I drove away that evening to our new home which I already named Kaleidoscope and on to the next step in our journey. Isn’t that what life is about after all, a journey taken and not the destination arrived at?