Carol Curoe - Are There Closets in Heaven?: A Catholic Father and Lesbian Daughter Share their Story

Praise for Are There Closets in Heaven?

I highly recommend this book to every family and especially those who think they have to make a choice between their child and their religion. I have witnessed too many families who follow false rules and traditions and disown their own child. This is not one of those stories. Carol and Robert go to great lengths to bring out their struggles against a tradition that would tear families apart. Such a heartwarming story is a pleasure to behold.

Alfred Bertke, Lutheran minister
who supports his gay son

Bob and Carol share their very personal journey to understanding, compassion, and acceptance. Their story will serve as a map for families who are going through the process of coming out. It is one that offers hope to those who are struggling with the question of how their family will react to the news that they are different and to parents who wonder how to process the news.

Thomas B. Howard, Jr., Education Director,
Matthew Shepard Foundation

Poignant, personal, and honest, this is the beautiful story of one family s love and courage. Readers are invited into the vulnerable human perspective of the social struggles facing LGBT people and their families.

Deb LeMay, Catholic Rainbow Parents

Bravo to the Curoe family, and especially to Bob and Carol, who together have written their story! This is a must-read for parents and families who are also struggling with these very personal feelings.

Bill and Nancy Ross, parents of a gay son,
President of PFLAG, Dubuque, Iowa

Gay and lesbian families are as diverse as their heterosexual counterparts. Read one familys powerful story beginning in their Iowan, Catholic roots through a journey of love and courage that demonstrates what unconditional love truly means.

Laura Smidzik, Executive Director,
Rainbow Families

Are There Closets
in Heaven?

A Catholic Father and Lesbian Daughter
Share Their Story

Carol Curoe and Robert Curoe

S YREN B OOK C OMPANY

MINNEAPOLIS

Copyright 2007 Carol Curoe, Robert Curoe

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Published by
Syren Book Company
5120 Cedar Lake Road
Minneapolis, MN 55416
763-398-0030
www.syrenbooks.com

Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

ISBN 978-0-929636-79-5
Ebook ISBN 978-0-929636-91-7

LCCN 2007929924

Cover design by Kyle G. Hunter
Interior text design by Wendy Holdman
Edited by Mary Byers

To order additional copies of this book please go to
www.itascabooks.com

This book is dedicated to

My life partner, Susan Langlee,
without whose love I would be lost

Patrick and Jonathan,
for showing me the true joy in life

Mom and Dad,
for teaching me all of lifes really important lessons

Carol

My wife of fifty-two and a half years, Joyce Curoe. Joyce passed away suddenly on May 22, 2007, at home. In the beginning of writing this book, she was reluctant to support the project because she wasnt sure that we should go public with the personal moments of our lives. She never tried to stop us, however, and in the end became a very strong supporter. I dedicate this book to Joyce for her love of us and her acceptance that this story needs to be told to help other families overcome prejudice and accept their gay children.

Robert

We extend special thanks to

Mike, Joann, Kevin, Patty, and Tim, children and siblings, for their loving support and gentle permission to let us tell our story

Mike and Tim, sons and brothers, for their careful reading of the manuscript and keeping us honest

Nathan, grandson and nephew, for letting us include his college application essay

Dani, Laura, Lisa, and Terryl, friends who listened to book talk for years and always acted interested

Tuesday, September 18, 1990. I recall every detail of that fall day, although I cant claim I had any special awareness of what was on the horizon before I read the letter. I didnt sense what was coming as I did when I saw the strange light that preceded the Category 4 tornado that ripped through a few miles from us earlier in the spring. I didnt feel the heaviness and electricity of the air before a storm. Im a farmer. Im from Iowa. I dont need to see darkening clouds to know there is trouble coming and I must get home.

But I had no such intuition that day of how my life was about to change.

When fall arrives, I am out of bed at 5:30 A.M. , down the road, and in the fields or feeding the animals by 6:00 A.M. That day, the sun shone bright and I raked hay all morning. The only sound was that of the tractor as I moved through the fields. The hay will be bundled into huge round bales, each weighing 1,2001,500 pounds. Its been a long time since stacks or square bales have been seen in the fields of eastern Iowa. The big equipment that is needed to form and lift those large round bales can roll in a field, trapping a farmer underneath, or pull in a hand or an arm as easily as hoist a ton of hay. Farming is a profession for those who are alert, and not for the faint of heart.

As I ride the tractor through the fields, it is only when I am on top of the hills that I can see a few farmhouses, maybe half a mile away. Trees surround these houses and barns, or grow along the banks of a meandering creek. The pine tree windbreaks line up alongside the homes, fending off the snow, rain, or wind before the weather assaults the house. In autumn the trees in Iowa blaze with color, and September brings the first signs of yellow and orange in willow, cottonwood, black walnut, green ash, box elder, elm, hackberry, and birch trees. In Dubuque County, our county, the main fall colors are the ripening bright yellow soybeans and the corn turning brown. The unpracticed eye might think the corn is dead at this stage, but the shades of brown merely signal that the corn is maturing, ready to be harvested.

That day, I came home for lunch at noon and Joyce met me at the door. I was introduced to her almost forty years before at a dance in Cascade, a town only twelve miles from where we live now. I married her less than a year later, and since then weve been through family and community upheavals of every kind. She had a look on her face that fall day I had never seen before. Her eyes were red from crying and her mouth was grim. It had to be devastating news. I assumed a sudden death in the family.

Read this, she said, pointing to a letter on the table. I prepared myself for the worst, while Joyce lowered her gaze and stared straight at the floor. I read quickly, my eyes darting across the page, wanting to get to the tragic news as soon as possible. I could digest the details later.

September 13, 1990

Dear Mom and Dad,

Writing this letter is probably one of the most difficult things Ive had to do. Ive never done anything to hurt you, and never would. But I know what Im going to tell you will cause both of you some pain; and I wish I could avoid it.