The Three Flamingos
By: Enne Baker
Tags: LGBTQ, History, Education, Fiction, Gay

The Three Flamingos

A Short Story (Part 5 of 6)

Image by orythys from Pixabay

It was July 8, 2002. Adam, now eighty-nine years old, was on stage, sitting down with a man he was holding hands with, and smiling to one another. He was about to be called to obtain a Humanitarian Award at Columbia University. A student held the award as she was about to call his name in front of hundreds of students, professors, and guests in the large auditorium.

“I want to say that I am so grateful, and so honored, to have spoken to Dr. Fisherman before we started the event. Not only was his story of living through the Holocaust so incredible and inspiring, but who he is as a person is so admirable. We had a conversation, and discussed how one knows of one’s calling in life, and he asked what my major was. When I said it was biology, he challenged me, asking, ‘Is it something you can eat? Is it something you can drink? Is it something you can love?’ and I admit I hesitated and thought that after this I’m switching my major to Public Speaking!” People in the audience applauded her.

“Congratulations to Holocaust survivor, huge donator and contributor to the LGBT Center, and social psychologist for fifty years. He is the New York Times best-selling author of his only published autobiography, ‘The Three Flamingos,’ which was a Pulitzer Prize winner, and an Oscar-winning film of the year. Ladies and gentlemen — Dr. Adam Fisherman!”

People rose out of their seats as they applauded with cheer and excitement. The man helped Adam to the podium with his black cane supporting him, and they kissed for a moment, as some people in the audience whistled, some cheered, some clapped, and some were uncomfortable.

“I want to thank Charlotte for presenting me with this award. I want to thank Columbia University, the students, the professors, administration, and everyone that makes the school what it is, thank you,” people applauded again.

“If I can be frank, I’m not the best public speaker like my friend Charlotte here, but what I do possess and think everyone in this auditorium possesses, or at least should possess, and that, is simply empathy. Excuse me, it’s not as simple as it seems. I don’t mean sympathy, but empathy. If there were more empathy in the world, people like me would not have had to deal with so much — there would be more exchange of words, understanding, and learning from one another with utmost compassion. The good news is that more feet would be up, clean, and healthy as one walks into his or her future to prosper with others to build together. Unlike how mine were — filthy, frostbit, and black. There will be no prosperity. I’m no politician, but I know hate doesn’t guarantee success for anything or anyone. Only love will prevail. If there is someone who hates you for what you are and who you are, it doesn’t matter. Just love them and tell them that you love them. Look at their faces, and see how much it affects them. One of four things will happen. One, they don’t hear it enough themselves; two, which is usually the case, they don’t expect that response; three, they won’t know what to say; and four, the argument will always be in your favor. Love is the strongest weapon of all. I was not always like this. My husband of fifty-two years — not legally since we can’t, but our version of marriage — taught me this way of perception. As I stated in the book, I met Gereon waving a pistol in his face and was about to take his identity. He knew what I was, a gay Jew boy who only knew violence, and couldn’t trust a German, like himself. Instead of just enduring me stealing his identity, he offered to take me to a hotel, clean me up and give me fresh clothes. It was hard for me to put the gun down and I started crying at the bedside. We talked all day and night, with no sleep at all. Then he said, ‘I want to go to America with you.’ He quit his job and left his life in Germany behind and moved to New York City. We stayed with his close friends until we had our own place. I still had nightmares and talked to a therapist, and when I had enough money, decided to go back to Germany and dig my friend Levi out of the temporary burial spot I had placed him in. He… uh, he was gone, and it remains a mystery. In the end, I broke my promise to put him in a better place. I like to believe the earth took him back. But I — ”

It was awkwardly silent for a moment, and Gereon got up on the podium and placed his hand on Adam’s shoulder, a warm touch.

“I apologize, I thank all of you!” Adam said.

People got up, and cheering, they applauded for a long time.

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