This weekend, while camping at Loyd Park, we finalized our reservations — yet again — for a long-planned trip to Shenandoah National Park and Washington, D.C. (For the record, the folksong refers to the Missouri River and in most versions of the song the name “Shenandoah” refers to an Indian chief, not the Shenandoah Valley.) Because we’re planning to visiting our nation’s capital during the peak fall foliage, we had to contend with full campgrounds and two-night minimum stays, but we finally got everything booked. Having spent more than a year making 11-hour trips to visit Jon’s mom, it seemed entirely doable to plan on making the 20-hour trip in two days. We’ll travel from Dallas to Nashiville for an overnight stay at the KOA Resort, then we’ll travel to Cherry Hill RV Park, just outside of Washington. That gives us about 72 hours to explore the monuments, museums, and memorials in and around the capital.

Unfortunately, the White House is only open for public tours on Fridays and Saturdays, so we’ve set our sights on the Capitol, Supreme Court, and National Archives. We’re also planning to visit the Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, FDR, and MLK memorials, as well as the WW2, Korean, and Vietnam Veterans memorials.

We admit, it’s a lot to take in over a short span of time, but we visited Utah’s Mighty 5 in five days, so we’re feeling confident.

Our weekend at Loyd Park also found us pursuing our regular passions: Engaging in conversation around the campfire, imbibing signature cocktails, enjoying al fresco brunches and dinners under the pavilion, reading The New York Times.

We also did something we haven’t done in quite some time: We welcomed friends to join us for dinner. Like us, they’re a same-sex couple who’ve been married for many years, which gave us plenty to talk about. Despite the two-decade difference in our ages, we reflected on our mutual experiences of growing up gay, enduring the clichés and stereotypes that are too often weaponized to inflict maximum damage. Shrouded in shame, we found ourselves in a kind of exiled state, stunted emotionally, professionally, spiritually. Consider how a daily drip of dysfunction from an early age erodes any sense of self over time. While there is much more tolerance now, there remains an agonizing pressure to conform, particularly in today’s “manosphere,” with its cartoonish, chest-thumping, cat-lady-hating toxic masculinity. That any of us survived such early and continued trauma with anything approximating self worth is a testament to the good people in our lives who love us as we are, despite the shame, anxiety, unmet expectations, and guilt that linger just beneath the surface.

Although we had booked our site through Monday night, we decided to leave on Sunday because of the threat of severe weather.

So we cut our long weekend short.