People In-Between.

Went down to the lobby this morning.  Needed to ask the clerk a question.  They've decorated down there, a Christmas tree and such.  The carpet is already red, so it's pretty easy to harness the Christmas theme.  I had to wait my turn.  The three cops in front of me had some questions of their own.

"So, when did they check in?"

Nervous clerk hands them the paperwork, details of the hoodlum's itinerary.

"They checked in yesterday?  That's a lot of crap for one night..."  "Ok, let us use your phone..."

My first thought, of course, is "what's this about?  Drugs?  Some other contraband?  How far is their room from mine?!"  Then I think, "three cops, no cell phone?"

Back upstairs, the hallway is feeling more familiar.  A variety of scents greet me on each approach;  a lot of asian cooking;  the occasional waft of "herbs" and cigarets, despite the non-smoking label on my room.  I hear voices, people in this together; others alone.  From the street I can see small christmas trees perched in some of the extended-stay windows.

My studio is next to the stairs, so I only have one room of voices next to me.  I'm pretty certain the gentleman staying there is dying of emphysema.  At times I'm tempted to run next door and give him a good slap on the back, you know, to help him out.  But there's a woman with him, so, I'm pretty sure she's got it covered.

It took some perseverance on my part, but I seem to have mastered my room key.  Now if I could just remember to remove it from the door when I enter so as to not leave a large welcome mat for the afore mentioned hoodlums.

I have a "kitchen": fridge, two burner electric stove, sink, microwave; equipped with a micro coffee pot and an occasionally functioning toaster.  It works well enough.  I like it.  The space is mine for now.  There is comfort in that.  Amidst the commotion outside, it is quiet enough for me.  It has a desk, a bed, a table, a recliner, and a TV.  I have an expansive view of the auto dealership outside.  Kind of ironic, as that has been my one complaint about Dublin - the mass of auto dealerships.  Now, it is beginning to represent home.  Home for now.

I enter this space and I am alone.  Alone to think, sort, accept.  Accept this space in-between.  Breath it in.  Seek out it's beauty.  Commune in solitary, yet, with the others navigating this purgatory.  Feeling connected to them as they hang their strand of lights and cook their holiday noodles.  Sitting with them... Staring at the impending New Year.  Wishing us well.

Happy Holidays my sweet people-in-between.

December

I want those I love to know:

I wish I could sit with each one of you this holiday.

I wish I could hug you and share my heart with you and 

Thank You

For the impact you've had, and have, on my life.

I hope you are loving every minute of this time;

But if you are not, 

If you are hurting,

For whatever reason,

Know that it will pass.

You are important, appreciated and Loved.

ALWAYS.

NO MATTER WHAT.

Peace Out~

Jagger Day

Last Friday, my daughter, Kinsey, and I headed out to Sacramento to support a benefit which was thrown for her baby brother, Jagger.

 Jagger was born with a very serious cardiopulmonary condition and has spent much of his infancy in the Children's Hospital.

It has been a tremendous hardship for his parents, Todd and Lisa, and his big brother, Ty.  I was thrilled when Lisa wrote to tell me that some friends of theirs were throwing a benefit to raise money for Jagger's medical expenses.  There was no question that Kinsey and I would be going.

It was hosted by a small deli/bar right next to Todd's family's dental lab.   When we arrived, the place was alive.

A fantastic band was playing.

A huge spread of donated auction items was laid out.


People everywhere.  I was amazed at the support.  I don't even think I know that many people, let alone would I expect them all to show up.  The event was so moving that Kinsey decided that November 13th was hence forth to be Jagger Day.

When I was a child, I remember being taught that angels waited outside worldly places like movie theaters, bowling alleys, dance clubs and bars.

That if we ventured inside such places, we'd be leaving our angelic protection behind to flirt with the devil.

Don't laugh.

I KNOW many of you are having flashbacks of lectures on worldly wiles followed by a good sing along of, maybe, "This Little Light of Mine".  Maybe?

Anyway, I've come to the conclusion that anyone who says the angels wait outside those doors, has obviously never walked through them...




I saw my share of angels that night.

Veterans Day

"Thank you"

seems trivial in comparison to the gift.

My hand is on my heart

for all of you who serve,

you who love and support them,

and you who have been left behind.

SUSAN (an intermission from the soapbox)

My dear friend, Susan, called me a few nights ago. Hadn't heard from her in about 8 years.  I had tried looking her up several times but was unsuccessful. Almost couldn't believe I was hearing her voice.

We met my Junior year in high school.  She was my boyfriend's mother.  He was out of the country, so I guess she felt comfort in being near me while he was away.  The feeling was mutual.  I spent many weekends escaping my boarding school with her.  She lived in Berkley so it was easy for her to whisk me away.  I remember driving up highway 17, through the trees, breathing in the temporary freedom.

Susan was genuinely content living simply.  She occupied several dwellings while I knew her.  All of them small, unique and comforting.  My favorite was her "basement" apartment in Berkley Hills.  It was the lower portion of a home on a steep hill, so, though it was a basement unit, it wasn't really underground.  It was one large room with a closet for a kitchen and a large fireplace.  The best feature was the window which spanned the entire front wall.  The view was breathtaking.  Berkley, SF, the Golden Gate and Bay Bridges; felt like you could reach out and touch them.

Her bedding and her dishes were white.  She loved her upright piano, 
which she was just learning to play.  She always made me potato soup because she knew it was my favorite.  She would make up songs about anything and sing them in a mousy hush while we were driving.  She was a poet to the core.  Everything she saw, or did, had poetry in it.  And she wrote it down on whatever medium was available to her in that moment.

She opened my eyes to variety and culture.  We wore out our soles walking the eccentric streets of Berkley and the menagerie of SF; going to an organ concert that she read about in the paper, strolling through Golden Gate Park, and those pastries at that bakery on that side street which I never would have found without her.

On Mother's day one year, we went into the city with no plan at all.  We ate a late breakfast at a greasy diner and laughed a lot, about what, I don't remember.




After brunch we meandered around and landed at a theater.  Huge banners advertised that Le Miserables was showing.  We somehow managed to buy the last two tickets, on the front row.  The musical so deeply moved us that, at intermission, I remember, we bought some bread and walked it across the street to give to a few of the homeless characters sitting there.  When the production was over I clapped so hard that my hands ached.  This is still one of my very most treasured memories.

In 1991, a massive fire took much of the Berkley hills, her home, her piano, my guitar, and all of her poetry included.  She was devastated.  Such an enormous blow to such a fragile, sensitive, soul.

Our bond was uncommon.  Losing her constancy in my life was heartbreaking.

We spoke for at least an hour the other night.  Tears streamed.  She filled me in on bits of her life's story.   After the fire, she was unable to write;  too much pain.  But, eventually, she grew the courage to begin again, and has since written over 1500 verses.  She just recently submitted a book for publishing and wanted me to know.  Gives me tears even as I write this; to know she has carried me in her heart all these years, as I have her.

It's a curious thing how people grow into each other...

Sex, Love and... "Hold on, I'll Google it"...

One of the motivating factors for me to come to terms with my thoughts on homosexuality, is the possibility that one, or more, of my three children might one day tell me that they are gay.  No, I do not suspect it in any of them at this point, but I have to consider that the potential exists.  Current statistics suggest that anywhere from 7% to 20% of the population is gay.  (This is a difficult element to measure since it relies largely on people's admission to being homosexual.)

So, if one of my children is gay, what will my response be?  More importantly, will they feel safe enough to be honest with me?  I already know, without reservation, that my arms will be wide open.  I will march at the front of every gay pride parade, will advocate and vote for their rights at every opportunity, and will welcome their loves into my heart and home.  Do they know this?  And, how will they respond to each other if one of them is gay?  Will they be compassionate?  There is a good statistical probability that one of their friends will "come out" at some point.  How will my children react?

I think the answer to those questions relies heavily on my attitude and actions NOW.  If I hide the reality of homosexuality, or sexuality in general, from them, then I am choosing to rely solely on external sources for their education.  If I want them to make wise sexual choices and respect themselves and others, then I have to be willing to expose them to what is out there, and be ready for their questions.  If I want them to become compassionate human beings, and humanitarians, then I must be one myself, and they must see it.

Please do not take this to mean that I am presenting my children with sexually explicit, age-inappropriate materials, in order to manipulate them into activists.  I am merely saying that I do not feel the need to shield them from the gay couple walking down the street, and I welcome their very normal questions about sex and love.  We have had many conversations on what "family" is and how every family is unique.  Our own family has non-traditional elements which, together, we have learned to embrace in very positive ways.  I do not handle these conversations perfectly.  I flounder and stutter.  I frequently say, "I'll get back to you on that," and the spend then rest of the day Googling for answers.   At one point, I even directed Kinsey to that book I bought her about her body with all the cartoon drawings in it.  But every new chat is a new opportunity and I do my best to let them know that the door is open.

And, in those discussions, the question, "can boys marry boys?" has presented itself.  Of course the typical preadolescent giggles accompany these conversations, as my boys can hardly imagine marrying girls, let alone other boys.  I answer honestly that some boys do love other boys and want to marry them but they can only do so in certain places because of the laws.  Their sweet, cherub response: "Why? That's so sad!"

Yes, loves, I agree.

To Be Continued...

Soapbox

In my youth I was quite vocal with my opinions and beliefs. A bit of a smart-ass really. Still am to some degree, but I've quieted down a lot. As I've aged, I've become exceedingly aware that people are rarely open to hearing opinions which oppose their own. I've also learned that, if I'm going to evolve at all, I have to be open enough to new information that I'm willing to alter my own ideals. This makes me redescent to state opinions which I might later lament.  Thirdly, as a result of certain stressful events in my life, I've developed a pretty healthy fear of conflict. So, in general, I avoid my soap boxes for the safety of the ground.

HOWEVER~

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, that whenever an form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such forms as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness." - United States Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776.

So, despite my own fears and inadequacies, I am stepping back up onto my neglected soapbox. And, to all nine of you, who read my blog, I beg your open minds and hearts. I do empathize with your hesitancy to be open on this matter. I assure you, as a daughter of faith and religion, this is not an issue I have taken lightly, or formed my opinions/beliefs about easily.  I am aware that you might argue with me, or even "unfriend" me.  I welcome the discussion.  The unfriending will sting, but, I think I'm okay with that.

A great deal of research has been conducted on the issue of homosexuality in relatively recent years. Though, most would say we're just beginning to study it, some progress has been made. For instance, after half a century of research, assessing nearly every imaginable psychological cause of homosexuality, researchers have discovered that homosexuals are no more likely than heterosexuals to have been neglected, smothered, or sexually abused (Kinsey Institute studies). Studies by Bailey, 1995, and Golombok and Tasker, 1996, also showed that children raised by gay fathers or lesbian mothers were NO MORE LIKELY to be homosexual or, deviant, than those raised in heterosexual environments. Which leads me to wonder how a gay couple down the street, or even a homosexual teacher would have any notable effect on the future survival of heterosexual unions.

Both the American Psychiatric Association and the American Psychological Association state that homosexuality is not a mental illness and should not be treated as such. There are still some advocates for "curing" homosexuality, despite overwhelming evidence that these attempts to alter one's sexual orientation are ineffective and even harmful.

The majority of credible mental health professionals view sexual orientation much like handedness. We tend to be right or left handed regardless of our desire to be one or the other. There appears to be NO CHOICE involved in the matter. In fact, most homosexuals admit going through at least a period of time where they desperately wanted to deny their sexuality and many make great efforts to un-gay themselves. They try therapy, treatment centers, prayer, celibacy, heterosexual dating or even marriage. These attempts are universally unsuccessful. If they are lucky to have support, they eventually give in to the inevitable and "come out".  Unfortunately, there is a significantly high rate of suicide or attempted suicide in homosexuals, largely due to their inability to change themselves and their sense that they will lose everyone they love if they don't. Just sit with that for a minute. It is real and we ALL contribute to it, either positively or negatively.

While there are virtually no credible studies linking environmental factors to sexual orientation, there are many studies suggesting a possible genetic and/or prenatal influence (Zhang and Odenwald, 1995; Whitman and others, 1993; Bailey and Pillard 1991, 1995). It is also well documented that homosexuality exists widely throughout the animal kingdom where psychological and spiritual factors play almost no role at all.

Despite the wealth of information now available to us on this issue, it seems that far too many people are still uninformed and/or unwilling to consider that homosexuality is benign. They are deeply afraid of it and it's potential impact on what they deem to be a successful society. Somehow, they fear that if gays are allowed to get married, heterosexual people will no longer want to marry(??).  They fear that if their children are exposed to gay family models, that those children might then become sexually deviant, or worse, catch homosexuality! They might even make friends with a homosexual, or not cringe at the sight of a gay couple holding hands in public!!

Consider the mayhem?!! I mean family values might just flush right down the toilet! Just imagine! 40% to 50% of marriages might end in divorce (National Center for Health Statistics and the Census Bureau)! We might break out in an epidemic of fatherless children. 36.2 million people in America might go hungry (USDA, 2007). Drug warfare might become a problem (you know how those gays are with their gangs and drug trafficking!) I'm certain that teen pregnancy and STD's would rear their ugly heads. There's just no end to the disastrous possibilities that might ensue if we choose to love and accept homosexuals into our, now utopian, society.

Sarcasm aside, I do understand standing in that fear. I stood there for a good portion of my life. It never set well with me though. I always had trouble mingling my desire to love "others as myself" with my belief that homosexuality was an "abomination" in the eyes of God. The conflict disturbed me. I remember being thankful that I wasn't gay because at least I didn't have to figure it out. And I was able to keep it at arms length because I knew relatively few gay people and had managed to not have any meaningful relationships with them. But ultimately, I wasn't able to quell the inconsistencies of this issue in my mind. I tried to take comfort in the camp of "we love them, we just don't love what they 'do' (more accurately, who they are)."  That stance appeased me some, but, as I carried that philosophy to it's conclusion, I realized that, it's an oxymoron. Or, frankly, it's Bull Shit.

In my attempt to honestly love gay people, I began to see them as human beings that have hopes and dreams, love their families, and contribute to society. They hurt over broken relationships, strive to succeed at their jobs, are creative, thought-provoking, intelligent, and loving. Some of them are screwed up. Some of them are cruel. Much like the rest of us. They do not have "agendas" to make the world gay. They just want to be loved and accepted for who they are and have the same opportunities for safety, life, liberty and happiness as the rest of the "created equals".

I can not address all that I want to in just one blog. As it is, this is quite long and I hope you've made it this far. So, I will continue this later. I just have one request for now. Get to know them. Not from a safe distance. Up close. With your heart. We'll talk more later.

TO BE CONTINUED...