Jeff Stroup
Coral Springs, Florida
I grew up on a small farm in Dillman, Indiana out in the middle of nowhere. Our nearest neighbors, the Kilanders, lived a half mile down the road. Mom and Dad were school teachers but we also raised a small herd of cattle along with corn and soybeans. I was given the wonderful duty of dragging my ass out of bed at 5:30am every morning to haul feed and shovel shit This was especially fun during the freezing winters when a large steer would often pin my 13 year old ass against the feeders in its haste to swallow mouthfuls of corn and hay while the rest of my family slept in their warm beds leaving me to scream, curse, punch and fight for my life. Needless to say, I moved out the day I graduated high school and left to explore the world. Unfortunately, my cattle rearing experiences did not properly prepare me for the 'real' world. I had never met a queer, gone to school with a African-American, traveled outside of the USA, or drank any alcohol other than TJ Swan and domestic beer. A decade later I wound up in Florida and was convinced it was Sodom & Gomorrah. I'd politely let somebody cut in front of me while driving and they wouldn't even give me a thank you wave while the asshole behind me would sit on his horn. Well, another decade and a half passed and now I'm one of those assholes sitting on my horn. I've got gay friends, black friends, Spanish friend, Brazilian friends. I've traveled to Central America, South America and Europe and discovered that the world is a little bit bigger than Dillman, Indiana. I also love to drink a dry Martini with lots of olives. Unfortunately or maybe fortunately, I still have a lot of that country boy left in me. So if I seem a little slow at times or a touch shy or say something kind of stupid, be patient with me and don't sit on your horn.