Uncle Mus

(pronounced "Moose" for you non-Turks out there)

Warning, schmaltzy post ahead.

My uncle Mustafa moved to the USA when I was probably five years old. The circumstances under which he came here were never quite clear to me, and my family prizes its secrets like crown jewels so I'll probably never know, but it definitely had something to do with avoiding military service in Turkey. The early 1970s were not a good time to be in the Turkish military, with a few military coups and the Greek/Cyprus war right around the corner.

Musy stayed in the attic room of our house for what seemed like years and he was always around when I was growing up. As I got older, he moved out but was still in the area; he was the guy who was in our driveway, changing his oil or adjusting the spark plugs in his little Datsun and later a teeny Nissan sports car. He got pretty good with fixing our toilets and scraping barnacles off Dad's boat, too. He taught me to drive stick in that Nissan; I guess you could call him a guy's guy.

Mus was never lucky with the ladies, though. His first wife ran off with a plumber after just a few months; his second wife... hmmm I guess more secrets because I don't know exactly what drove them apart but they divorced too. He pretty much laid off women for a few decades after that, and told me when I was seventeen (in the driveway, while changing his oil — really) that I should stay away from women forever because they would steal everything I cared about and ruin my life. Of course at that point I already knew I was gay even if he didn't, so I figured this was pretty good advice and that Uncle Mus had all the answers.

But you just never know where love is going to turn up, and about five years ago, at sixty, Mus finally found his true love. Mus and Kaslyn adopted a baby girl who is now four. Right now I'm at their house amongst idyllic horse stables in the distant Virginia ex-urbs of Washington, D.C. and it's so great to see them here living out their dreams. Mus has had lots of health issues the past year or two so it feels extra special to be able to spend my last night here with them before I head back to San Francisco tomorrow morning.

Uncle Mus taught me a lot about what being a strong, stable guy in the face of adversity is all about. I wish him and Kas the best, of course, and their story gives me lots of hope for my own future too. I'll always love Uncle Mus.