“But you wrote letters to Santa.”They both rolled their eyes at me in that ‘Dads are so stupid’ sort of way that always leaves me feeling unco...fortably – well – stupid.“That sort of stuff is really fun,” said Bec.“We made sure we showed them to you and Mum before we posted them,” added Tara. “There’d be no point in writing them, if we didn’t.”Two days later, we’d been woken well before dawn by excited squeals as the two girls discovered what “Santa” had left for them. Later that morning both. Interestingly, eventhough I mentioned that I was not gay three people pressed me on theissue as if they needed to justify something within themselves. When Iexcused myself I had the phone number of a nice woman who could helpwith decorating on the cheap, and one from a man who insisted I take it.His number I'd toss when I got home.I felt good as I drove through the snowy streets. The GLBT group didn'tmeet any needs but if Parole would let me out one evening a month toattend I would go. Now I. More

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