Stephen Mosher On The Hotel 

We had our first live in houseguest during our second year together.  We had one year of just being Pat and Stephen before we moved to Dallas from Denton, got a big apartment with a guest room and found ourselves The Home For Wayward Actors.  Our first houseguest was a friend whose father kicked him out when he found out he was gay.  He stayed a while.  Then he moved on.  Within the next year, a friend broke up with his boyfriend and needed a place to stay.  Welcome.  When the wind changed he moved out.  Over the years we housed friends for a weekend or for a year.  When we had our first florist, we were no longer The Home for Wayward Actors –  we became The Hotel.  We hosted men, women and children (never under 18 – except emotionally).  With every stray we took in, we adopted the role of roommates, best friends, hosts, parents, teachers, therapists, brothers and landlords.   We always took in people with open arms and an open heart.  We have lived our life as PatNSte believing that, when someone is in need, it is your obligation to help them.  If you can be of service, it is your duty to offer assistance.   When possible, we have always offered the outstretched hand of friendship and the open door of home.

Sometimes to our detriment.

Once or twice we have taken in a lodger who has made it difficult to live peacefully.  We had a houseguest who was a combination drama queen-drug addict.  Now, there are drama queens who are not drug addicts.  But there is no such thing as a drug addict who is not a drama queen.  And this houseguest was all of the things that these labels conjure in your imagination.  This roommate was the one who pushed us over the edge.  Time and again we rescued this person from the perils of life and time and again we regretted it.  Until, finally, we had to kick the person out, confiscate the keys, change the locks, close the doors.  We made a rule: if you use crystal meth, we cannot have you.  Other drugs, ok.  Booze, ok.   Drama, ok.  Whatever your personal problem or issue, ok.  But no crystal meth.  And we opened the doors of The Hotel again. 

The guests we housed after that continued to be lovely people whose company we enjoyed.  We offered them refuge and we did our best to be loving and caring, supportive and nurturing.  At times it has felt like The Waltons, others like Seinfeld and we have even had the mood of the dorms on Felicity.  We want Two-A to feel like a home to our family.  It has never not been our ambition that our home feel like their home.   Pat and I have always agreed that this is one of our roles in life.  So life at Two-A has been mostly happy and pleasant.

Then one day I got out a calculator.  I did some easy math.  I was shocked at what I discovered.

Of the twenty five years Pat and I had been a couple, we had lived alone together for five.


The guest room was turned into a place to store the wares I have for sale on Ebay.  The guest room is now an office.  It is where Pat does his voiceovers, where I edit photos, where I do my Ebaying, where he does his submissions; and, above the desk, the filing cabinets, the scripts, the negatives and all the rest of it, the loft is filled with Ebay goods, packing materials and other items for storage.

And, sometimes, the Rachels sit up there, guarding the goods and watching game shows.

It was a good place to raise the family. 

But the Hut is Shut.

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