Some Parenting Advice from a Non-Parent

I am not a parent and generally I would not presume to give parenting advice.  It would be like hiring a blind decorator.  The ideas might seems great in theory, but they don't work so well in the real world.

For of all, I know parenting is hard.  You don't get a manual and kids can be a pain in the ass, but as adults, we're supposed to rise to the occasion and be the better person.  I've never had kids and most of the times I've been grateful for that decision.  I was always afraid I'd somehow get a damaged one.  Like I always thought I was.

I love my parents and I know they did the best they could.  I mean that with all sincerity and would never want to embarrass them for actions forty years ago, but I feel deeply moved to write this tonight.

Several things have come up this week that have pushed me to give you one piece of parenting advice:

LOVE YOUR KIDS UNCONDITIONALLY!

Most of you are probably saying, "Well, of course. That's a no brainer."  Good, I'm glad you think so.  Now make sure your kids know that as well. You might be surprised to know they may not be so sure.   I was over thirty years old before I knew I was much more than a pawn in the divorce game.   That may not be true, but that's how it felt to me.  Sometimes I still feel like I'm being asked to choose and I'm forty seven years old.

Here's a hint about unconditional love.  It does not mean spoiling the child with laptops, iPads, cell phones, $400 sneakers, cars, taking them to music lessons, soccer practice, band practice, play rehearsal.  It does not mean raising a self entitled spoiled brat.  All of those things are substitutions for unconditional love.  These are the toys you can take away if they disappoint you.  Something to hold over their heads.  Isn't that healthy?

I woke up from a dream early this week where I recalled a childhood memory that I had forgotten.  Not repressed, but forgotten.  I knew the memory was there, but I never understood the significance of it until this week. Suddenly I realized why I grew up always assuming I was the least worthy person in the room. 

I'm happy to say that I have managed to get past that, but it helped to discover where that began.  Again, I know my parents were doing their best and one ten minute interaction may not have even stayed in their memories, but it certainly did mine. 

Here's another piece of advice:

DON'T EVER TELL YOUR KID YOU'VE GIVEN UP ON THEM OR THEY'RE A LOST CAUSE

No one is a lost cause, and if anything screams the opposite of unconditional love, it is this.  Now, I understand that some kids/adults make bad decisions and you as a parent get your heart broken, but too bad.  You disagree with their decisions if you like.  Sometimes we all make stupid decisions. You love them from a distance if you need to, but you do not fucking give up on them.  

I watched my step sister make terrible decisions and ultimately she died because of those decisions. She broke my parents' hearts, as well as those of her daughters.  My heart broke for her because I wanted somehow to help her, but she wouldn't accept it. I could have said, "fine, I give up on you," and built a shell around my heart, but right up to the end I had to believe that she was worth the fight, the pain, the effort.  I'm afraid she didn't think so though.  She gave up on herself.  

You may be wondering where this is coming from.  Why am I so passionate about this right now?  It's because I see history repeating itself and I see people buying into some bad advice they got growing up.  

Here's my advice for kids and adult kids:

DON'T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU WERE TOLD

SOME OF IT WAS WRONG EVEN THOUGH IT WAS PASSED DOWN FROM 

GENERATION TO GENERATION

BE THE ONE TO BREAK THE CYCLE

YOU ARE WORTH IT!

YOUR FUTURE KIDS ARE WORTH IT!

We're Here; We're queer; What's the big deal?

The gay rights movement really began in 1969 with some drag queens at the Stonewall Inn in Manhattan.  They stood up to the police, who had been raiding the gay bars and arresting the inhabitants.  On that June night, the patrons of the Stonewall decided not to leave.  They stood their ground and a movement was born.

Today, in 2012, the President of the United States comes out as being in favor of gay marriage.  Granted, many states have laws in effect prohibiting that, but this is the last remaining fight in the revolution.  So what happens when we win?

Gay Pride parades and festivals have been going on since 1970.  It's tradition now that the gay bars build floats to have their strippers and drag queens dance on, the leather daddys put on their assless chaps, and the town's Gay chorus sings songs as they all parade down Main Street USA.   These are some of the subgroups of the gay community.  Where are the rest of the gays?  Where are the doctors, lawyers, teachers, accountants, CEOs, and entrepreneurs?   Perhaps they're home working in the garden, volunteering at a soup kitchen, or attending their kid's soccer game.

What's the matter with them?  Aren't they proud to be gay?  Or maybe they don't think about it.

If equality is what we're really after, doesn't becoming mainstream become the definition of success?    We're here, we're queer and people have kinda gotten used to us.  Many have accepted us.  Isn't that what we want? We'll never get everyone to accept us.  No one has.  Blacks and whites still have issues.  Jews and Arabs have a long running battle.  Hell, lesbians and gay men have issues.  In fact, we gays don't even like every other gay we meet.  That's human nature.  We aren't all going to get along, but we can find peace in knowing that.

So this June as you have the urge to celebrate gay pride, go ahead and go to the parade, but if you really have pride and courage, be the gay dad at the PTA meeting, or be the lesbian couple inviting your straight neighbors over for a barbecue.  That's how we really succeed, when people see we're no different than they are.

It's not very exciting becoming the mainstream, huh?   There aren't any parades.  But it is nice.

Stealing Moments

I realized today that it's been over a month since I've written anything here.  I've been on a whirlwind writing binge trying to finish the second revision of my novel, Postcards from the Desert, which I'm hoping to have released by the fall.

Lately I have been crazy busy and the busier I am with life in general, the more time I want to spend writing.  It seems like likely I've been stealing moments here and there so I can sit down and work out a scene or revise some dialogue.  Of course in all of this, I'm having the time of my life.

Instant Information- Is it a Good Thing?

We live in the electronic age.  We are bombarded with information nearly every moment we're awake.  News comes at us in 24 hour cycles.  Twitter gives us news instantly and as its happening.  Facebook tells us what's going on with our friends or anyone we're subscribed to.  Television, radio, websites, email, blogs, all are there to feed our hungry eyes and minds, but when is enough enough?

Most of the news we receive isn't the uplifting kind.  Sure, there's the occasional story about a soldier coming home and surprising his child.  Or the dog who saves his owner's life.  These are uplifting, but they come all too rarely.  More often the stories are like that of Trayvon Martin, an unarmed kid in Florida who is gunned down by neighborhood watch volunteer.  Or there's the story where Evangelist, Pat Robertson said homosexuality is a form of demonic possession.  Then there's the story of a snow plow driver and his wife who kidnapped, beat, strangled and killed a woman basically because they were bored.

After having an argument on Facebook with one of my "friends" about the Pat Robertson article and whether homosexuality is wrong and I need to repent, I decided I'd had enough. I had reached my breaking point and could not process any more bad news.  I had to step away from the computer and smart phone.

Also in the news this week, there was a story of a Jet Blue Captain who began babbling things that scared his fellow crewmen and passengers aboard a flight to Las Vegas.  The co-pilot had to lock him out of the cockpit while several passengers pinned him down until the flight made an emergency landing.  He was apparently having a meltdown.  He kept saying over and over, "things just don't matter."

My question is this:  Do any of us have any idea how close we are to such a melt down?  Its hard to watch all the media feeds us and wonder, what's the point?  Is there any hope for mankind at all? Does anything matter?

Its an election year so each side paints a more dire picture of the other side and we start believing the other guy is going to make it worse for us.  The economy sucks, but it's getting better.  No, it's getting worse.  Gas prices are up, no, they're down.  Unemployment is down, but more layoffs are coming.   By November, we are polarized and paralyzed and just want the negativity to stop, so we walk into the voting booth and lay our token down on the roulette wheel.  Is it going to get better or worse?

November is several months away.  Maybe the only way we get there in one piece is by putting away all the information overload, and spending time each day processing the beauty of the world right at our fingertips.  The blooming flowers.  The taste of the enchiladas a loved one made for dinner. The words on the page of your favorite novel.  The moving images on the thirty foot screen.

The world will still be there blowing itself up when we're finished, but at least for a few hours each day, we can take a break from the insanity.

Now I can honestly say I completely understand those people who give up everything and move to the mountains, desert, beach, etc.... If nuclear war comes, at least there will be a gorgeous sunset before the lights go out.

I apologize if this entry seems too negative or fatalistic, but its because I do think things matter and we do deserve better, that I write it.  If I didn't I'd be too drunk to write anything.

When Will You Speak Up?

I usually try to avoid political or religious arguments.  Mostly I find them to be unproductive.  We all pretty much know what we believe.  Someone shouting at us from another belief system isn't going to change that. Neither will our shouting do much to convince them.

Every now and then I do have to speak up though, and it usually gets me in trouble, but its usually worth it.

The hot topic these days, although I still don't understand why, is that child star, Kirk Cameron gave an interview where he blames homosexuality on the decline of civilization.   I can think of a lot of reasons for the decline, but homosexuality isn't anywhere on the list.  So, he said it and we should have all shaken our heads and moved on.  After all, what power does he have?  The real people we should be worried about is the GOP candidates running for the office of the Presidency. They, especially Rick Santorum, scare the hell out of me.

When I say they scare me, I don't mean like George Bush scared me.  It was an uncomfortable eight years, but I didn't fear for my life.  People like Rick Santorum take their public pulpit and start spewing their hate speech about homosexuality and I get nervous.  When did we, the homosexuals, become the divider in this country?  You either love the gays or you hate them?  Is that what we're about now?  Is that how we choose leaders?

Forget about the Trevor Project and a few episodes about bullying on Glee.  We are being bullied and told to hate ourselves by the people who want to be the leaders of this country!  How can anyone with a Bible who claims to believe in Jesus think that's right?

I'm reminded of a very powerful statement that surfaced after the rise of  Nazi power in Germany.

"First they came for the communists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew.

Then they came for me
and there was no one left to speak out for me."

~Martin Niemöller

When do we speak up?  When they take away women's health choices?  When being gay is illegal again?  When the Bible becomes the new Constitution?   Where will the Jews be then?  The Catholics? The Muslims?  The religious freedom the country was built on?  What will it take to put an end to the people of this country blindly following the false prophets who tell us they'll lower gas prices and give us all jobs.  They will say anything to get elected.  Will you stone your neighborhood fags and whores if it will help?   

Do I get pissed when political figures spout their hatred towards me and people I love?  Hell yes I do!  Am I going to be polite while you throw your Book of Leviticus at me?  No.  I'm done being polite.  I'm done trying to be the better person.  I'm ready to fight.  I have to be, because I'm fighting for my life.

We Change the World With Our Words

Art changes us.  Whether that art is in the form of a painting, a sculpture, on film, or the written word, it changes who we are, how we think of ourselves,  and how we think about the world around us.   Art comes in many forms in addition to the ones we most accept as art.  It's a novel. It's a film. A play. A performance. Sometimes even a television show.

I have always had an affinity for a well written television show.  When the words are genuine, the acting is real, and the finished piece of film captures the attention of millions and has the power to influence our world.   Sometimes the actors and writers win awards, advancing their careers, or expanding their audience, but we can never really know how a particular scene, episode, or even word changed someone's life.

In 1987 there was a hit television show called Cagney and Lacey, starring two tough female detectives.  It was a typical cop show of the time, but delved a bit more into the character's lives from time to time. One such time, the show decided to explore the drinking problem of Christine Cagney, played by Sharon Gless. The episodes and the performance won Gless an Emmy.  I wonder how many people also saw themselves and got sober after that.  I did.  I went to my first AA meeting not long after and I believe that saved my life.

Recently, the tv show, Glee, tackled a topic all too familiar these days.  Gay teenagers committing suicide because of bullying.  Unfortunately this is also familiar territory for me.  I was seventeen and also coming to terms with being gay when I tried to kill myself.  Fortunately, I did not succeed.  I kept quiet about this for most of my adult life until the past year with the rash of suicide attempts in the news.  I am proof that it does get better.  You've got to hang in there and keep going, but it does get better.

I watched the Glee episode and while it was very well written and acted, it made me angry.  It made me angry at the bullies people have to face everyday.  Not just as teenagers, but even as adults.  Bullies are as prevalent in the workplace and political arena as they are on the playground and it's never okay.

While the episode of Glee was difficult to watch, I applaud them for doing it.  If that popular television show can save one life, it's done it's job.

Recently I was asked why I write.  I write because I enjoy it, but I also hope that in some small way I can change the world, or at least make someone's day or life better because I had an idea and put the words on paper.

Friends Are the People Who Really Know Us

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."
- Anais Nin

I think I was seventeen years old when someone told me that you're lucky in this life if you can count the number of true friends on one hand.   I must be very lucky, because at this point in my life, I'm also counting on the other hand. 

When I was a kid I didn't seem to have any trouble making friends, but the superficial friendships were never good enough for me.  I wanted depth, even at an early age.  For the longest time I thought it was something wrong in me.  I was too needy, or something like that.  I was probably difficult to take.  No one knows what to do with this thirteen year old who wants to reveal his soul.   There are still who don't know what to do with a forty seven year old doing the same thing.  That's just me.  If I can't be who am I with a friend, what's the point?   If we have to pretend, then I might as well be pretending with characters on a stage or those revealing themselves to me as my fingers clack out the words on the keyboard.  

I'm not saying that I'm not capable of a superficial conversation at the bar or at an evening of theatre, but those are not sustainable to me.  Basically I'm an introvert.   Those conversations and interactions require a huge amount of energy from me.  The conversations and interactions that fill me up and renew that energy are the one on ones or the small group conversations about the meaning of life, the existence of God, the stuff we're all searching for.  Those interactions empower me.  

As I recently moved, I came across some things from the past that have been hidden away in a box somewhere.  One of those things was an award I won in college for a writing contest.  I won first place in an English writing contest my professor entered for me.  I had no idea I was even a candidate.  Afterwards the professor told me he was so moved by my research paper on male friendships, he had to enter it.  The title of the paper was Bonding: The Barriers to Male Intimacy.   It was all about how men are programmed at an early age that friendships with each other are about doing, not being.  Women can sit around and just "be" with each other, but that was not acceptable for men.  Men had to be "doing."   Playing sports. Drinking beer.  Something we consider masculine.  My research went on to show that as men age and are less able to  "do", those friendships often disappeared.  One study showed this to be the cause of a shorter life span for men than women. 

I'm happy to report that while I have only a few close male friends, those friendships are very important to me and don't seem to be based solely on the "doing" idea.  I can be myself with those men and know I'm not judged and I'm loved because of who I am.  As are they. 

Friendships with women have always come easier to me and I'm extremely grateful to those women who I call friends. A few I've only met in the past few years and are in my writing group, but the bond was quickly formed. 

As I reflect on my friendships today, it's interesting to note that my first novel, Postcards from the Desert, that I'm finishing revisions on, is basically about finding oneself based on who we find to be our friends.   It's that theme that powers my writing.