I was never much of a teenager. It’s not as if I wasn’t a student; it was that I was absent so much — literally away from Northbrook, at debate tournaments once or twice a month, over the weekends — that I never felt as if I was really a member of my community. After all, when you spend your weekends in San Francisco and Dallas and Washington, D.C., Northbrook just seems kind of lame.
I knew I was attracted to men before I knew I was Attracted To Men. It began at my summer camp, a small wooded refuge tucked away in northern Wisconsin. There, one or two hundred boys or so, from age 9 to 15, played, swam, canoed, sailed, crafted, cooked, gathered, laughed, cried. I crushed. (I did those other things, too.)
Xavier Legrand’s film “Custody,” which I watched this past weekend at the Chicago International Film Festival, centers around a custody battle in which two children, a boy who looks to be about 9 or 10 years old and a girl nearing her 18th birthday with one foot already out the door, feel threatened by their father. Their protestations fail to persuade a judge to avoid granting some degree of custody to the father.