Phillip...an answer to your questions would take up more space than "War and Peace", and it would also depend on the part of the country. I lived in the rural south until the age of ten, and from my "rememberances", never did I hear the word "homosexual" ("gay" had not yet become part of the lingo), because the general populace did not know what a homosexual was. In 1963 I was a junior in college, in the Los Angeles area, and it was a time when America was in sexual turmoil; I was called "fag" and "queer" because they were the 2 most offensive term in the English language, but it did not derail me. In mid-1964 I entered the Air Force and was stationed in SW Texas, and Roswell, NM untill early 1967. It was in Roswell that I met the man whom I would love for what I thought would be forever, but being military, I had to keep a low profile; being in a small rural community, D. had to keep a lower one. We had our circle of friends, male and female, and life was great, as long as no one found out about our sex lives. D. did not fear public ridicule, as Ennis does, but he did go out of his way a lot to make sure the proper image was adherded too; I too, as it was not of the era "don't ask, don't tell". In 1967 I went to a new duty station in Alaska, but it was not a sad thing as there were telephones and stamps, and I would only be gone a short 15 months. Being gay in Alaska was extremely difficult as we had no place to meet our own kind, and were stuck indoors from mid-Sept through mid-May, but in spite of those circumstance, "gayness" fluorished, but not without consequences. Two months after I left the military, 150 officers and enlisted men were "rounded up" in a sting, and the roommate of a young man I was seeing from time to time (D. and I had an understanding) was responsbile, to further his own welfare. I returned to L.A. in mid-1968 and it appeared that nothing, in terms of being gay, had changed...it was more tolerated than accepting, but beatings and murder were ofter the price of coming out, even in L.A. I prepared myself to return to Roswell and try to decide what D. and I would do as far as our future together. It was not to be....D., roommate Mike, Mike's lover (and my friend) Jerome, and friend of all of us, were returning from Albuquerque from a 4th of July weekend trip. Just 35 miles north of Roswell their car was hit head-on by a drunk driver, killing all 4. That's why "He Was A Friend Of Mine" hit me so hard when I heard it at the end of BBM.
After a long time of mourning I got on with my life. The gay climate in the 1970s began to change; we were still "fags" and "queers", but now we were more public with it, and we began to fight back, no longer being perceived as weak individuals, but now a strong group. Disco came and went; HIV/AIDS came and stayed. I had many more relationships, 2 lasting several years. I was also one of the lucky many who did not get this horrible disease (and to this day I will slap the s*** out of anyone who calls it God's revenge on gays for being gay!) But I've never forgotten D., and like Ennis, I have a simple, meanngful reminder of a love cut short....2 birthstone rings we gave each other for our birthdays after our 2nd year together (we had the same birth month and day, but not year, and neither of us knew the other was getting the ring, so it was a major surprise.)
We have made major strides in acceptance in major cities, but I fear not so much in the smaller towns like Roswell and Riverton. And I hope that by the time I close my eyes for the last time we will have made some more major strides forward, and that more and more people will understand how love works....it doesn't matter whom you love but that you love and are loved in return.