There was a time when Kress, now 52 and an advocate in the local gay community, couldn't even admit to himself, let alone others, that he was homosexual, despite accusations and confrontations along the way. From his teens until he was almost 40, Kress denied it. He spent those years in false marriages, battling depression and alcoholism. He attempted suicide several times. All because he hated who he was.

Like the cowboys in the Oscar-nominated film "Brokeback Mountain," Kress struggled for years with his feelings. It would take decades of heartache before he would come to terms with who he really was.

One of 12 children, Kress was born in Felton and moved around southeastern Pennsylvania a few times in his youth. During elementary school, Kress said, he was molested by two male teachers on separate occasions. Both of them were married and had families. Not understanding the full ramifications of what had happened, Kress never told anyone. Decades passed before he shared those experiences in therapy.

"That question came several times from therapists, clergy and friends," he said. "For many years, I asked myself that question too, but after years of therapy and healing, I can honestly say that those instances had no impact on what my sexuality is today. I can't think of it as anything else but bad luck."

As Kress grew older, he became conflicted about how to handle his new feelings. His confusion and denial was compounded by a conservative upbringing in a Pentecostal church, which, he said, kept him quiet and in the closet.

Kress had his first consensual homosexual experience shortly after his family moved to York in June 1969. He was 16. Kress said the relationship was purely physical, and by that time he "had no real emotional connection with any man."

"This is not correct," Kress said he told himself at the time. "I shouldn't be doing this. It was always brought to us that homosexuality was a sin. But my mind felt much better, and I was much more comfortable when I was with a man."

After three years of marriage, which included the birth of their son, Joe, Kress and D'aiello called it quits. During their marriage, Kress had several homosexual affairs. His wife didn't know. But she eventually left him, saying they were "not the people we thought we were when we got married."

After the divorce, Kress tried to kill himself several times and attended many failed counseling sessions. He maintained sole custody of Joe, who was still a toddler, but was caught between two worlds, remaining in self-denial about his homosexuality.

Years later, while working out joint custody of Joe with D'aiello, Kress married a second time out of a desire to prove he could provide a "normal" home for his son. "I needed a cover," Kress said. "If we got married, it would ... give me the perfect family life."

The union was a difficult one and ended after six years. The stress of that relationship, combined with his ongoing inner battle, led to an extended battle with alcoholism and depression and spending time in mental wards for therapy.

Kress' struggles also affected his son, who was having problems with his new family and in school. It wasn't until Joe Kress was a teenager that he suspected his dad was gay. He never asked him about it, but he wasn't the only one who suspected it. The thought had occurred to others, as well, and led to many difficult and brutal situations.

"When I was in school, I was jumped several times," Joe Kress said. "We had profanities written on our garage. I can remember my dad woke me up at 2 a.m. after our garage had been vandalized (with homophobic messages). We had to paint the garage in the middle of the night, because he said that if a vandal can't see their work and enjoy what they did, they won't enjoy it. And he was right."

"It was tough because when you're living in the closet, it makes your life hard, and it tends to make the lives of those around you hard," Joe Kress said. "We didn't always understand each other because he wasn't honest. It made it really difficult for us to talk. Society forces us to hide who we are because of the people who are afraid of what they don't understand, whether it's religion, sexual preference or ethnicity."

"After we married, he told me that he had been with a man," she said. "He told me he had been forced into (a sexual encounter). It was probably after his second marriage dissolved that I knew he was gay."

"I still thought it was a sin and that my family would disown me and not love me," he said. "It was also the church. I was still attending church this whole time."

Finally, in 1994, after he tried to kill himself by carbon monoxide poisoning, Kress spent a month in the mental ward at York Hospital, where things finally started to turn around.

"I had no visitors and the doctor told me what life was going to be like if I didn't stop (the drinking and self-destructive behavior)," he said. "I would end up dead, and how would that be for my son?"

When Kress left the hospital, he continued his therapy, joined Alcoholics Anonymous and began taking medication for depression. On Oct. 11, 1994, more than 25 years after his first homosexual experience, Kress finally came out to his friends and family.

Kress was especially nervous when he told his siblings. Having shared their conservative upbringing and heard their derogatory speech about homosexuals over the years only added to his worry.

"It was a very liberating experience, because they all said we knew ever since here or ever since there," Kress said. "I think they changed a little by me coming out because they stopped using that kind of language. My youngest brother even set me up on a blind date between me and a co-worker of his."

"He just wasn't like the rest of my brothers," she said. "He was more effeminate but had a manly side, too. He was always there for us girls when we were young. I would have friends come to the house and say he's a faggot and I used to say, 'No, he's not, he's just the way he is,' and make excuses. I just wish he would've come out sooner."

Since his coming out, Kress has worked hard to improve his life. He had never completed eighth grade, but now he has his GED. He has subcontracted for 10 years as a maintenance worker for York International. He has also become an active member of Parents, Family and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG) and the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender (GLBT) Committee at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of York, the church he now attends.

Perhaps his strongest relationship of all is with his son, who, in spite of the hardships experienced in any father-son relationship, has supported his dad through virtually his entire struggle, inside and out.

"Our relationship is better than ever," Joe Kress said. "He's very strong, supportive, and I'm very proud of my dad for his accomplishments, both personal and in the community. Now that he's open about who he is, he is much happier. He still has his bad days, he's a human being ... but we're open and honest with each other."

In spite of a few difficult years after their marriage, D'aiello said her relationship today with Kress is as good as it has ever been. The two even planned a 30th birthday party for Joe together.

"I don't think people should be treated differently because of their sexual orientation," she said. "Charlie was a great father. Joe is so open and loving and caring, and Charlie had a big role in that."

Although he has openly dated a few men in his years since coming out, Kress said that none of the romances has lasted very long. He blames it on his strict rules and standards, which include not dating anyone who smokes, people who party too hard and anyone "who has had more problems than myself."

"I keep taking other people to give them the opportunity to see it," he said. "It's more than a gay cowboy movie. It's a story about how men and women struggle in their everyday lives by being in the closet. Things cannot change unless people are willing to have an open mind."

The movie, which follows two cowboys and their secret relationship over a period of many years, leads the Oscar field with eight nominations. They are: Best Picture, Directing, Cinematography, Original Score, Actor, Supporting Actor, Supporting Actress and Adapted Screenplay.

Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG) is a national organization that, according to its Web site, "promotes the health and well-being of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender persons, their families and friends." PFLAG of York meets the third Tuesday of every month at 7 p.m. at the Carriage House behind the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of York, 925 S. George St.

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