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God, god, god. Does anyone know more? (nt)
Posted at BoyChat by Conscientious Objector on Friday, June
15, at 3:05 AM
In reply to Important news about a tragedy posted by A Regular
* * *
"It's not BoyChat's fault this happened!" cried Johnnie.
So close had he reached to his limits that he did not even bother to lower his voice, though it was a Monday evening, and he and Paul were sitting together in Paul's office. Paul, folding his hands upon the desk, said nothing.
"People go off their heads and do nutty things all the time," Johnnie persisted. "When I was little, the doctor in our town went bonkers and stabbed a patient. That doesn't mean we should shut down all the hospitals in the country."
"No," said Paul, turning to count the hymn books on the desk, "but if it appeared that the way a hospital was run was making it more likely that doctors would kill people, I would be reluctant to check myself in to such an establishment."
"That's crazy," said Johnnie, clenching his fists. "Boylovers are opposed to violence against children; it says so on the Free Spirits home page. If you were to post a survey at BoyChat, asking whether any participants believed that a boylover should encourage his young friend to commit suicide, not a single person there would say yes."
Paul looked up from the hymn books then, his spectacles shining from the lamplight. For a long moment he gazed at Johnnie. Then he opened one of the file drawers of his desk, ruffled through the folders there, and pulled out a sheaf of papers from one of them. Johnnie took the papers into his hands and looked at the title: "The Priest and the Acolyte."
"Did you ever finish reading that?" Paul asked.
Johnnie continued to stare down at the Internet print-out. "No."
"I think you'd best do so now."
Paul was in the chapel when Johnnie found him, placing hymn books in the pews. The chapel was empty and locked for the night. All of the lights had been shut off except for the emergency exit signs; the only other light came from the street lamps outside the windows. Johnnie leaned heavily against the post of the door connecting the chapel with the administrative wing. He slumped as though he had been running.
"Are you telling me," he said, his voice echoing in the stillness, "that True Boylover and Ben got the idea of killing themselves because I posted TB that story?"
"Not necessarily," said Paul, looking up as he picked a stray service leaflet off of a pew. "The tale of star-crossed lovers who kill themselves rather than allow themselves to be separated is part of our culture. True Boylover may have envisioned love that way long before he came onto the boylove boards. What he got from that" – Paul pointed to the story in Johnnie's hand – "and from hundreds of posts at BoyChat is the idea that children are as capable as adults of making life-and-death decisions."
"That's crazy," said Johnnie, with less force than he had used before. "I don't believe that. Gold Star of Crossroads doesn't believe that either. He thinks that the role of the boylover is to guide the boy with the man's greater maturity."
"Yet Gold Star believes that children in elementary school should have the legal right to choose to have sex." Paul lowered himself into a pew and gestured to the seat beside him. Johnnie shook his head.
"Paul," he said tightly, "we've been through all this before. I know your views on the sex issue, you know mine. What are you saying that is new?"
"That I think you should leave the boylove boards."
The chapel was very silent. All that Johnnie could hear was the soft whisper of a binding brushing against wood as Paul adjusted the Bible in the pew before him. Then Johnnie said bitterly, "So you think I shouldn't eat at table with the sinners any more."
Paul sighed heavily. "Johnnie, it's not a matter of making lepers of the boylovers. I wish that every person in the world who is concerned about child sexual abuse would come to the boylove boards and talk with the boylovers there, even if only for a short time. I think that would make all the difference in the world to the lives of the boylovers and of the boys with whom they interact. But there's a difference between encouraging righteous men and women to sit at table with the tax collectors and encouraging the same action by someone who is strongly tempted toward financial impropriety."
He gestured again toward the seat beside him, and this time, after a moment of hesitation, Johnnie walked slowly forward.
The chapel was decorated in the New England Puritan tradition, with a minimum of flourish and no art. Now that the seventies renovation had been cleared away, the one object in the chapel that caught the eye was a massive, bare cross at the far end of the chapel, looming over the small communion table in front of it. The cross was dark now, hidden in the shadows; it almost seemed to be waiting in the shadows, surveying silently the building and its contents.
"You praised At Peace last week for running the Christian Boylove Forum," Johnnie said as he lowered himself onto the bare wood of the pew.
Paul nodded. "At Peace reminds me of an inner city teacher who, having successfully resisted all the temptations of slum life, decides to remain at his drug-infested school and give what help he may. I wish there were thousands of minor-attracted adults like At Peace. I have no worries that At Peace will offend, any more than I am worried that Jevon will offend – but that is because, in both cases, their minds and hearts are in union with each other. Your case is very different. Your mind and your heart are at war with each other."
"I don't understand," said Johnnie, his throat tight. His feet were resting on the hard kneeler, and the uncompromisingly straight pew was digging into his back. He had not attended church for many years, one of his few open defiances of his parents' upbringing, despite the fact that nothing in his interfaith theology would have made such worship impossible. For him, church was associated with memories of long sermons about the fate reserved for those who went against God's will, and memories of his growing understanding as a teenager that he might be among those who perished in the eternal flames rather than be ushered into golden Jerusalem. Even Gospel passages about God's favor toward repentant sinners had not been able to erase from him the ingrained feeling that churches were one more place where someone like him was not welcome.
He found himself wondering whether his feeling of coming home at BoyChat was due less to its inherent worth than to the fact that every other home was closed to him, except on condition that he hide what he was.
Paul had been silent a while, staring at the dark cross. Now he said quietly, "This is difficult for me to say, Johnnie; I've been trying for a long time not to tell you what was plain to my eyes about the boylove boards. I thought it was better that you should come to see it for yourself. But now that this has happened . . . You told me a while back that you had made a firm commitment to lifelong celibacy."
"Unless society changes so that boylove is integrated into the social system again," replied Johnnie. "But I can't see that happening within my lifetime; societies just don't change that rapidly. So I guess my situation is the same as At Peace's."
"Not quite," said Paul, still quiet. "You say that you wish to remain celibate – do you have any idea at all how difficult it will be for you to keep that commitment? Up till now, you have had the good fortune not to have been placed in a position of strong sexual temptation, but that won't last forever. When the time of testing comes, you'll need armor with which to protect yourself against the spears that the Devil will send your way. The boylove boards won't supply you with that armor. If anything, they will strip you of what armor you already have."
"At Peace posts messages all the time about resisting sexual temptation." With difficulty, Johnnie turned his gaze from the cross in order to look at Paul.
Paul's eyes remained fixed upon the silent witness to the conversation. "And in the very next thread, Brick will explain how having sex with children is God's will. What the boylove boards give with one hand, they take away with another." He was silent a moment, his face changing in response to some thought. Then he said softly, "Johnnie, you're like a small boy who wants to venture onto a battlefield with his toy gun. You have no idea what it's like when the cannons start roaring. When the snows are falling so heavily that no vehicles can get through the streets except the snowplows and the busses, and your bus breaks down two miles from your home, and the man who was sitting next to you on the bus invites you to come warm yourself in his apartment before you start the long trek home, and you spend three hours talking and learn that you have many common interests, and then the man invites you to spend the night, and you know that he is not just offering to let you sleep on his couch— When something like that happens to you, you're going to need all the strength you have in order to say, 'No, thank you,' and walk out the door. And what armor the boylove boards have given you to resist such an encounter is as effective as a piece of paper is at stopping a bullet."
Johnnie stared down at the small gilded cross stamped into the binding of the Bible in the pew holder. Finally he said, "At Peace manages to resist temptation. You said that yourself."
"At Peace manages to resist temptation because his heart and mind have united together to resist any lures that his body might fall into. By contrast, your mind tells you not to have sex with boys, but your heart" – he touched the story in Johnnie's hands – "tells you otherwise. And Johnnie, when the time comes that you face your own day of temptation, you dare not have your heart and mind divided, because your body will cast the deciding vote."
Johnnie continued to stare at the tiny cross for several minutes. At length, he raised the back of his hand to wipe away the tear trailing down his cheek. He said in a strained voice, "So you're telling me I have to go back to the way I was before – without any friends like myself, with no one to talk with about being attracted to boys. I have to go back to my prison cell and lock myself in. What reason can you offer me to give up that much?"
He expected Paul to say something about the ex-gay ministries then, to speak of the joys of telling others, to offer him again an invitation onto the different path that he had chosen to follow. But when Johnnie looked up and saw that Paul had finally turned his eyes away from the looming cross, all that the other man said was, "You say that you love him. Do you?"
* * *
To: BL Board Administrators
From: brick@freespirits.org
Date: June 19, 11:24 CDT
Subject: More info on True Boylover and Ben
Below is an expanded version of a message I'll be posting at BoyChat this morning. This version (which is for your eyes only) supplies some extra information on the charges being placed against True Boylover.
# # #
I talked this morning with True Boylover's therapist, Jeff, and he's been able to give me more information on what happened.
Jeff says that the police learned about True Boylover and Ben through a tip on the state's child abuse hotline from someone who had been in correspondence with True Boylover. It appears that, when the police arrived at the front door of Ben's house, Ben guessed what had happened and ran out the back door, taking his family's cell phone with him. He called True Boylover at work; a co-worker overhearing the conversation says that True Boylover became very upset and told the caller that he'd meet him at "our place." What followed is as the news article describes, except that the article doesn't mention that Ben spoke in the letter about his fear of being separated from True Boylover.
The witness mentioned in the article, by the way, was Jeff, who drove down from the city when True Boylover didn't respond to his calls. He was the first to figure out where True Boylover and Ben might be, and he was the one who called the ambulance.
Jeff says that he talked with True Boylover over the weekend, and though he won't reveal what they said, he did mention (since this has been disclosed already in the local paper) that the hospital is keeping a suicide watch on True Boylover.
Jeff says that it seems likely now that True Boylover will be charged with statutory rape. The child pornography charge relates to images from Websites that the police say had been erased from True Boylover's computer in April but that they were able to recover. All of True Boylover's belongings have been searched. I'm afraid that True Boylover was never skilled in security measures, so I think we have to assume that the police now possess all of the e-mail sent to True Boylover since his arrival at BoyChat. I hope that everyone here has observed standard caution in what they commit to writing in e-mails, but if anyone here is worried about what the police might read, please don't panic. If you'll contact Free Spirits, we can give you tips on places to go for legal advice if the police show up at your doorway. (We can't give you any legal advice ourselves, of course.)
We'll continue to let you know more as details become available.
Brick
Webmaster and All-Round Dogsbody
BoyChat
Prayers for the tragedy
Posted at the Christian Boylove Forum by At Peace on Wednesday,
June 20, at 7:14 AM
This is just a reminder to CBF participants that CBF hosts a prayer room (linked at the top of the main index) where prayers can be offered up in memory of Ben and to ask the Lord to provide True Boylover with strength and guidance during the coming days. In addition, Conscientious Objector runs a nonsectarian site for the lighting of candles in memory of the dead; I've linked to it below.
Our brothers over at BoyChat are engaging in a great deal of soul-searching at the moment, as you can tell from the hundreds of messages that have been posted on this topic since last Thursday. I hope that some of you will go over there to offer whatever help you can. This is not a time for division between Christian and non-Christian or between boylover and non-boylover. This is a time when our spirits ought to be unified in mourning and repentance.
On a separate note, I will be offline during the next few days in order to deal with some urgent real-life matters. Gold Star has kindly agreed to keep an eye on this board in the meantime. My prayers and thoughts will be with all of you this week, especially with the approach of our community's candle-lighting.
In Christ's Name,
At Peace with the Lord
Webmaster of CBF
Yes, I did it!
Posted at Crossroads by Concerned & Angry on Thursday,
June 21, at 4:32 PM
In reply to CA, were you the one? posted by Conscientious
Objector
Yes, I'm the one who called the police, and the rest of you should be ashamed that you didn't do so. For four months everyone here has been saying that [deleted by moderator] – excuse me, "True Boylover" – is unstable and needed psychiatric help. Yet no one had the sense or the courage to do what is right. That boy is dead because all of you pedophiles turn a blind eye when one of you hurts a child. That's the simple truth.
This is probably the last post I make at this board. Talking to you people is like trying to talk sense into a bunch of retarded grubs.
CA stands for Concerned & Angry (very angry)
* * *
"Thank you for not saying 'I told you so.'"
Delius shrugged. He was sitting in the black bedroom, where he'd moved his remaining computer. His face was yellow from the glow of the Christian Boylove Forum index. "It's hard to judge people online; I've made more than one mistake in my time. Besides, there's some truth to what Concerned & Angry said. Not that I believe the police should have been called – you can see how much good their presence did – but we could have done more than we did." Delius stopped, scanned a post with his eyes, then began to type, saying, "Lynch Em has found CBF and is posting multiple messages quoting Jesus' 'millstone about his neck' remark. At Peace is going to have a fit when he gets back. He has problems enough from self-appointed preachers warning the CBF participants that they're doomed to hell."
After a few moments more of typing, he added, "I knew True Boylover's name and address from the post I edited two weeks ago. I had enough money saved; I could have flown out to visit him. If I had . . ." His voice trailed off, and his hands slipped from the keyboard.
Johnnie said, "Paul thinks I should leave the boylove boards."
Delius looked at him, then away, his hand moving toward the mouse.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" asked Johnnie.
Delius clicked his mouse in a steady, methodical manner, his screen switching to CBF's administrative tools. "What would you have me say? It's an issue all of us face sooner or later. Conscientious Objector nearly left BoyChat during his first year there because he didn't believe that it was sufficiently activist. As for me, the first time I read one of C.O.'s posts, I thought to myself, 'What am I doing here? If I ever kiss a boy again, it will be because of posts like this.'" He gave a small shrug and said, without looking at Johnnie, "You're the only we who can make the decision, White Rose. If you don't want to come by any more, I'll understand."
"That's not what I meant," Johnnie said hastily. "Even if I left the boards, I'd still come see you—"
"In hell's name, why?"
Johnnie felt the breath shocked from him by the rough anger in Delius's voice. Swinging his body in the chair to face Johnnie, Delius said with hard precision, "I'm a boylover. I have boylove books on my shelves, boylove art on my walls, boylove designs on my computer, and I have the good fortune to be Gold Star, Webmaster of Crossroads, on whom the FBI are undoubtedly collecting a thick file. If the boylove boards are dangerous to you, Johnnie, then so am I. Don't do things by half measures. Follow your conscience completely, or don't follow it at all. I'd suggest the former. If you really think that boylove will cause you to harm a boy, you should walk right out of here."
The hallway was stifling hot, the kitchen even worse, as a pot of milk was simmering on the stove. Johnnie paused to turn the gas off, rinsed the empty cocoa container before placing it atop the growing stack on the computer stand, and stepped toward the door.
As he picked up his briefcase, something made him look back. Through the hall door, Delius was standing in the doorway to his room. He wasn't moving and he didn't speak, but something about his expression made Johnnie say quickly, "I'm not making an important decision like that all at once. I just have to go over to Milano's; I'm late for his lessons."
"Ah." Delius's expression didn't change, but a certain hard amusement entered his voice. "I'm glad to see that you still have hold of your proper priorities. The boys come first."
"Milano has always come first for me," said Johnnie, and left Gold Star standing at the entrance to his black cave.
* * *
"Good, she's watching a romance movie," said Milano, returning from the bathroom with the roots of his curly hair still wet from where he had washed his face.
"That's good?" Johnnie looked up from where he had been opening his briefcase in order to put away his calculator and take out a thin object wrapped in foil curled into a narrow cone.
"Sure," said Milano with apparent surprise. "Hadn't you noticed? When she starts watching one of these made-for-TV movies, she doesn't budge from her room till it's over. The house could burn down, and she wouldn't pay attention."
"So you have three hours to yourself." Johnnie had a hard time smiling; the burning down of a home was more than a metaphorical image for him these days. "Well, don't get yourself in trouble."
Milano stood at the doorway a moment, chewing his lip and blocking Johnnie's exit. Then he came up to stand beside his tutor. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to the soft object in Johnnie's hands.
"It's a present," he said, but before he could think of further words to add, Milano appeared to lose interest. He stared down at Johnnie's briefcase, as though the case were the most important object in the world, and said, "I was thinking about what you said a while back. About the inward part of you being the most important part. Do you still think that?"
"Yes, certainly," said Johnnie, trying to figure out how to bring the conversation back to where it had been headed. "That's one reason why people pick nicknames for themselves when they post messages on the Internet. They believe that their nicknames are a truer reflection of their inner selves than the names they were given at birth."
This appeared to interest Milano. He stood up straighter and said, "You post on the Internet, you said. What's your nickname?"
An eternity seemed to pass before Johnnie replied, "White Rose." The words fell simply, like a shooting star in the sky.
Milano lowered his brows. "Rose is a girl's name," he said doubtfully.
"I'm afraid I didn't think of that when I chose it. I got the name from a movie about a knight who gives a white rose to the person who is most important to him, and whom he intends to love forever."
Milano's face brightened; his mark of beauty stood out sharply. "The most important person?" he said.
"Yes."
Johnnie held his breath for a moment to formulate his words, but Milano did not give him the opportunity to speak further. He said, with eagerness edging his voice, "Johnnie, may I ask you a question?"
"Yes, of course." Johnnie wondered momentarily why he felt so uneasy. Though Milano, trained in formality by his parents, had never before addressed Johnnie by his first name, Johnnie's other young friends had. Then he realized how big an impact Delius's story concerning Teddy had had upon him. Milano was not Johnnie's equal; thankfully, Johnnie had never forgotten that fact, except in small lapses like this.
Milano lifted his head. He was still two inches shorter than Johnnie and had to raise his eyes as he said, "Are you gay?"
There was a long silence in which all Johnnie could hear were the faint sounds of the movie emerging from Sandra's room and the muffled chatter of Milano's sisters in the next room. Then Johnnie said, "What makes you think I am?"
"I heard Mama talking to Dad on the phone Monday evening – she sounded real sad. She said she'd thought that you were coming over to tutor me as a way to be able to see her, but you'd walked in on her while she was half undressed, and you hadn't even seemed to notice, so she figured you must be gay. Are you? It's really important for me to know."
Milano's hands were clenched together; the skin across his face-mark was taut. Seeing this, Johnnie, wondered whether it would be too much of a blow for Milano to learn with finality that Johnnie would not marry his mother. Then he remembered the gay boy with the broken arm, and he realized that Milano might be seeking assurance that it was possible to be different, yet to survive to a contented adulthood.
"Well, I'm not very interested in dating females," Johnnie said.
Relief washed across Milano's features. He lowered his lashes and stared for a moment at his hands before saying, "I was wondering . . . Do you think that people are only gay, or only straight, or do you think they can be something in between?"
"Bisexual? Why, certainly. I know someone who is attracted to males, yet he's marrying his girlfriend next month." So it seemed that Milano was indeed seeking reassurance about Johnnie's intentions toward his mother. Johnnie felt that he wasn't doing a good job of making clear that Milano shouldn't nourish his hopes for a stepfather.
Milano chewed on his lip for a moment more, then looked up and said, "I think I'm bisexual."
This was a turn of the conversation Johnnie had not expected. It took him a moment before he could gather his wits to say, "Thank you for telling me."
Milano smiled then, dipping his head slightly. "Thanks for not saying I'll outgrow it."
"How could I be sure of that? Mind you, I was a bit attracted to girls when I was in middle school, but that attraction went away as I grew older. Perhaps you'll lose your attraction to other boys."
"Maybe," Milano said cautiously. "But I know I'm bisexual now, and that's important."
Johnnie, thinking of Sandra's request that he impart to Milano "the birds and bees thing," found himself meditating on the vagaries of modern life. Apparently, being a twenty-first-century mentor meant giving fatherly advice, drawn from his own experience, on how a bisexual boy should lead his life. He wondered with amusement what role he would be called upon to play next.
"Could we become lovers?"
Milano's question was abrupt, almost peremptory. He had taken another step forward to where Johnnie stood frozen, his hands still wrapped about the foil-covered object.
He should have been prepared for this, he knew dimly, and the fact that he was not prepared was a sign to him of how far he had crossed his limits. He tried to gather his thoughts, but it was as though he had been journeying along a path that seemed clear, and a sudden, dark mist had descended upon him, so that he was now stumbling blindly. After a moment he said, "I don't think that would be a good idea."
"Why not? I love you, and you said that you love me – you do still love me, don't you?" He took another step closer, so that nothing barred the way between himself and Johnnie except the object in Johnnie's hands.
"Yes, of course." He could hear his voice beginning to rise in panic. "But there are different sorts of love—"
"I know that." Milano dipped his head and appeared to scrutinize the object Johnnie was holding, then raised his head again. He had on his face the stoic expression Johnnie had seen on their first meeting. "You're not attracted to me, are you? I know I'm ugly. But you wouldn't have to look at me . . . We could make love in the dark . . ."
No light was reaching Johnnie's mind now; he couldn't figure out whether it would be a worse disaster for him to follow his impulse to embrace the boy or for him to flee screaming from the room. He felt Milano's hand touch his tentatively.
And then, like a voice guiding him out of the mist, he heard the words: "If you ever consider having sex with a boy, I hope you'll discuss the matter with me." He found himself imagining such a conversation: "Well, of course I still believe what we talked about, but honestly, Gold Star, what was I to do? There he was, offering himself to me . . ."
And then the mist was gone, and Johnnie's mind was achingly clear, like that of a man falling from a cliff to his death.
He took two steps backward, placed the object atop his briefcase, and said firmly, "Look, it's not that. I'm not free to love you that way."
Milano was still standing with his hand outstretched. For a moment his mouth trembled, and it appeared that tears would be forthcoming. Then comprehension washed over his face. "You mean there's someone else?" he said hesitantly.
Johnnie paused a moment to select the words that would be most truthful. Then he said slowly, "I've been deeply in love with someone for several months now. If I were to love you in that way, I think it would hurt badly the person I love. I do love you, but I can't risk hurting him like that."
"I understand," Milano said swiftly. "I should have asked you first whether you were dating anyone. I was really stupid." He turned his attention to the briefcase, picking up the object there and fiddling with the edges of the foil.
"You weren't," said Johnnie. Then he added in the second biggest understatement of his life, "I was glad to know how you care about me."
Milano seemed disinclined now to look up; he continued to fiddle with the foil. As though on a note of protest at this treatment, the foil gave way suddenly, and the object in it fell into Milano's hands.
He held it up toward the light, staring. Johnnie felt his breath grow short. Milano asked, "Is this for your lover?"
"Yes," said Johnnie slowly, sensing the first glimpse of the ground rushing up to meet him. "It's for the person I love."
Milano looked at it for a moment more, then thrust it toward Johnnie. "It's from both of us, then," he said, his voice struggling to achieve an adult firmness. "If he's making you happy, then I'm glad."
Johnnie took the object back from him. His own hands were trembling. "Thanks," he said. "It's good to know that you feel that way." He turned toward his briefcase and said, his voice growing tight at the feel of a blow that was just beginning to enter him, "I'd better go. It looked as though it was about to rain cats and dogs when I got here, and I didn't bring an umbrella."
He took the briefcase in his hand and made his way across the galaxy's length of floor space that separated him from the door. He would have gone through the doorway without looking back, but he had had too much experience in mentoring to do that. He turned and saw that Milano was standing where he had left him, looking forlorn and uncertain.
"We'll have to start on those four-dimensional figures next time," Johnnie said, forcing himself to sound cheery.
"I have soccer practice on Fridays." Milano's voice was small.
"Yes, I remember. I'll see you on Monday, then." He could empathize all too well with the broken expression on Milano's face; he struggled for words that would heal at least one of the wounded persons in this room. Finally he said, "I was showing your picture a while back to a friend of mine who's also attracted to males. He was very much taken with your looks. He said you were unique in your beauty, and he asked me whether I had any other pictures of you."
Hope struggled with disbelief in Milano's face. "You're not making this up?" he said, his voice rising.
Johnnie shook his head. "I'd never lie to you." He left the boy standing next to his bed, a glow beginning to appear around the beauty mark as Johnnie made his way into the chill, driving rain, still clutching the object he had taken back from Milano.
He waited until he was out of sight of the house before dropping the white rose into the mud.
* * *
Notice to Crossroads participants
Posted at Crossroads by Gold Star on Thursday, June 21, at
5:30 PM
First of all, concerning the replies to Concerned & Angry's post below: I'd like to remind everyone here of the rules at this forum against the outing of participants. That includes the outing of non-boylovers. Any more posts providing real-life information about Concerned & Angry (whether obtained through the Web or through any other means) will result in the offenders being suspended from participation at Crossroads.
Secondly, concerning a number of queries the Crossroads Committee has received: The committee is presently discussing under what circumstances participants can be banned from Crossroads for outings that take place elsewhere. This is an old issue, and we want to proceed in as even-handed a manner as possible. Thoughts on this topic by non-boylovers would be especially appreciated.
Finally, for those of you who didn't see the notice at BoyChat, Ben's funeral is scheduled to take place from four to six p.m. tomorrow (Friday). Crossroads will be closed to posting during that time as our moment of silence.
Gold Star
Webmaster
Crossroads
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