I've been desserted!

Soundcliff, a house on Vashon Island, overlooking Puget Sound

For several years already I’d been traveling north for the marvelous Thanksgiving days of feasting at Vashon, which James Broughton attended and encouraged.

This year I was excited to introduce my new partner Ken to all this, and show him off to them. Ken was very moved by meeting so many fun and loving men in the magically beautiful atmosphere of Stephen’s and Gordon’s island home, Soundcliff. Stephen and Gordon, Malcolm and David, James and Joel, Guy---it was all wonderfully too much, and we even later talked of moving there.

A month or two before we were to fly north again for the next year’s celebrations Ken came to me with an utterly surprising plan. He wanted to contribute something to this event and these extraordinary people. Ken is a nationally ranked sprinter, and his very supple, muscular body was the best thing he could think of. In the form of a dessert for the Thanksgiving meal, he thought! Naked, with decorative frosting.

Would I do that? Would Gordon the artist help on that? Yes for me, and Yes, I was sure Gordon would love “working on him” too. A Mac-nut to the core, Ken had already figured out how to generate the outlines of a Ken-length platter and paper doily on his computer.

I was so startled, and DELIGHTED. Ken is normally such a shy, reserved person in company, it seemed utterly out of character. “But I love them, it’s different,” he explained, “I want to do something that will be fun and special.”

He was writing a poem, too, which he planned to recite while lying on the table, when he was being “served.” He read it to me, and I was stunned again, and so moved. Ken had never written a poem in his life, and almost never wrote creative things. HIS POEM WAS VERY GOOD: SINCERE, SERIOUS, and also very WITTY and PLAYFUL, innocently MISCHIEVIOUS. This was truly extraordinary, and I pre-sensed what delight it would bring to all the men.

It suddenly hit me that this was A HIGH SPIRITUAL MOMENT, and gushingly told him so. He took that in, reflectively.

He soon had the almost six-foot long white paper doily ready, and then the six-foot long silver platter of cardboard. He measured my biggest suitcase, to establish that with one fold the salver would fit in. He slit the corners of the rectangle and slit a smaller rectangle 4 inches inside it with a razor, so that these flaps could be later taped up to form the rise and rim of the salver. He spraypainted it silver.

Ken and I experimented with commercial frostings (everywhere on him!), hoping to find that some would resist melting from the warmth of his body. And various bakers’ nozzles, for design possibilities. Just two days before our departure my niece Larissa visited us. Entranced, she suggested grape vine leaves of chocolate, and we made it a project right them and there to make some. In case I hadn’t adequately mastered this new technology I carefully wrapped up a dozen and resolved to carry them in a cool place (and took more of a special chocolate, too). Larissa was ecstatic to have her vicarious part in such a fun thing.

We packed, we flew, we arrived to hearty embraces at Vashon.

With Stephen and Gordon we worked out the logistics. Ken could get up on the table quickly, but Gordon and I would need some time to decorate him. Flowers, bugs and other goodies on leafy grape vines, which would emanate from Ken’s midriff. So Stephen would commandeer all the other guests out and off on a short walk.

We had fun in Seattle the next day, buying frostings, and a number of small, lightweight candy bugs and other things as extra ornaments to glue onto Ken’s body with more frosting.

Thanksgiving Day, after two-plus hours of splendid feasting, it was at last time for dessert. Stephen made a fine, mock-high-falutin minispeech, and dragged everyone away. Ken quickly and carefully laid out his platter and doily, then lay down on in, naked except for a tiny brown bikini. Gordon and I worked as fast as we could, and then we took photos---and the men were back. Stephen made them all close their eyes and then, holding hands to form a line, he led them in until they were circled around the dining table.

“Time to open your eyes!”

People were so surprised, loved it, laughed a lot, admired the colorful flowers all over his so delicious body, while pointing out the chocolate grape leaves, the candy bugs, the frosted big grapes decorating his midriff and other details. And then they nibbled.

“And you thought you’d seen everything!” Malcolm said to James.

“And now I have,” James came back.

I sincerely believe that this was one of the highest spiritual moments of Ken’s life.

-- Michael Hathaway