03.03.21 Publisher’s Desk

When I graduated high school, my parents put together a huge 3-ring binder scrapbook of my life and gifted it to me. It was quite impressive on their part. The memoir started with a beautiful letter about how proud they were of me, followed by every school picture of me in grade order. They included every award and certificate I received and every playbill for every show I was in. It concluded with my acceptance letter to college and scholarship notification.

My favorite part of this book was the cover. They had taken random photos of my childhood and captioned some of them. There was the photo of the time at the beach I caught a fish with my bare hands. The obligatory Disney photo where I seem to strike a fierce Fosse pose in Adventureland like I was screaming to come out of the closet. The best photo, though, was me in my suit, presumably dressed up for my sister’s high school graduation, with both hands on my jacket lapel and my mouth wide open as if I were screaming “Sit down, you’re rockin’ the boat,” from “Guys and Dolls.” The photo caption read, “Which reminds me of a story.”

That pretty much sums me up. I was always telling stories. Still do. In fact, I talk so much that the Watermark staff enjoys the days when I work in the other office so they can get some work done. It’s just who I have always been and probably why I wanted to be an actor most of my life.

When I was alone, or when others were tired of listening to me talk, I’d daydream about the people I would see in passing. There would be a woman in her 70s in the backseat of the car and I would imagine her entire life: where she grew up, what kind of work she did, what strife she suffered, where she found joy and who she surrounded herself with. I found it profound that there were so many people in the world whose entire lives existed outside of my own, and that my entire life existed in such a small fragment of a city, a state, a country and a world. Although our paths crossed we were completely unconnected. I promise I didn’t smoke a joint before endeavoring to write this column.

My point is that we all exist in our own world. We have our own set of experiences that guide us and help form our belief systems that hold true for us. The same is true for the person next to you. The story I invented for the woman in her 70s is likely not her real story, but she definitely has one. She’s had parents, friends who care about her. Something in her life has caused her pain and something has brought a smile to her face. At the end of the day, through all of her experiences, she is connected in a world outside of my existence. As my high school English teachers drilled in my head, “No man is an island.”

I find that remembering this about people helps me get through the tough times. It reminds me to be good to others. Soon we will start to return to pre-COVID activities. Vaccines will make it safer to be in public. Stores will be crowded and the streets will be overrun with cars. Let’s do our best to be good to each other as we learn to co-exist again. Let’s remember that each of us has our own story and let’s work to make this human experience a better place for all of us. Let’s celebrate each other.

In this issue of Watermark, we do just that: we celebrate your favorites. This year’s WAVE winners hold a special place in Watermark’s history. 2020 was an incredibly tough year for nonprofits, small businesses and entertainers. Those listed in these pages deserve recognition for their hard work to keep our community running. I am in awe of your ingenuity and ability to adapt and survive under the extreme circumstances of last year. Congratulations to all of the top three winners, you’ve earned it!

In local news, Central Florida’s Ribbon Maker, Ben Johansen retires the Orlando Ribbon Project, Tampa Bay’s U.S. Rep. Charlie Crist reflects on the historic Equality Act vote in the U.S. House of Representatives and St Pete Pride gives us a look at this year’s Taste of Pride. Our Arts and Entertainment section takes a look at Congo Kid Powers’ 40-year career as a queer rocker.

We strive to bring you a variety of stories, your stories. I hope you enjoy this latest issue.

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