Life Altering Truths

When my high school BFF and I fought over the same girl, it wasn’t out of jealousy of him, it was jealousy for him.  It wasn’t about the girl, it was about him wanting the girl and not me.  This is the same guy I boinked all summer.  Physical fighting scared me only to the extent of the damage I could do to someone.  When he hit me with a right hook to my left cheek, I hit him back and threw him into the lockers.  He picked himself up and looked at me and in that moment I knew he hated me.  The look hurt worse than hundreds of right hooks.  I never did figure out the wisdom in avoiding the straight guys.

My grandpa was a Mormon bigot that never accepted me and my adopted brother because we weren’t “true blood” (we pre-date Potter by decades).  Mother, the soft-spoken yet implacably obstinate and incredibly stubborn protector to us, taught me that elders are not always right, nor should they automatically be granted respect.  At a family picnic, Grandpa once hit me for something my cousins had done with his sanction.  I didn’t even think about it – I hit him back.  His face turned red and he raised his hand to strike me and he stopped and stared: my mom was standing behind me.  He pointed at me and bellowed that I was an evil child and how dare I hit him back and that he was going to punish me.  My mother calmly asked if he was also going to punish my cousins for doing the same thing?  His face went even more red and he stood there with fists clenched until he turned around and walked away.  She squeezed my shoulder and gathered my dad and brother and we left the party.  I learned that we can’t choose our family, but we can choose the people we care about.

Online experiences of the internets have changed the last few weeks.  A cousin went born-again apeshit on me on Facebook, taking various posts personally and saying I was “so negative” and why did I “have to be so prideful about being gay,” wherein I had to respond that my status updates, or Yahoo or Second Life profiles weren’t about her.  All my posts or profiles were meant to entertain, provoke, satirize, and stir things up, and failing that, they were simply mine to express or not – if she took things personally that was her business, not mine.  This evidently was not good enough and she sent a long email to me – she wanted the cousin she knew of her youth back – the young and adorkable and closeted best friend/cousin that wasn’t gay or certainly wasn’t out.  I learned that people will read what they want and make assumptions, no matter how clear or unclear one’s writing is.  I learned that “‘goodbyes” are a bluff I’m willing to call because I have no time to be someone she expects but doesn’t see.  I’ve also learned to use filters on Facebook.

Talk Thursday: Semi-True Stories

My grandma told the story to my father (he said), who told the story to me when I was growing up.  My grandparents had gone on vacation to Mexico and came home with souvenirs and knick-knacks of their trip, one of the items being a small mirror adorned with bells that was supposedly a charm against evil spirits.  The fact that my rigid, stoic, church-going grandparents had gone to Mexico was more shocking than their penchant for primitive magical beliefs, but my young-adult mind took the story in stride, listening to my dad’s voice and watching how his face changed as he enjoyed spinning the yarns he loved spinning.  I’d heard the story being told to my uncles and cousins at a family party, but I felt lucky that he was telling the story to just me this time.

They hung the charm on the inside door of their bedroom closet.  Over the years they forgot about it.  My dad watched my face as he explained that one hot summer night my grandparents had gone to bed when they heard the sounds of bells shaking softly against their closed closet door.  He must have been satisfied with my expression because he kept going with his tale, saying that my grandpa got out of bed.  The sound of bells stopped, but he opened the closet door and pulled the string to the light switch, but inside, nothing was amiss.  The charm hung calmly on a ribbon on a small nail, the bells silent.

Satisfied, my grandpa shut the door and went back to bed.  They awoke to the sounds of bells again, ringing louder and more vigorously than before.  Grandma got out of bed this time and the sounds stopped before she opened the door.  She pulled the string to the light switch and looked around, and like my grandpa had seen, nothing was amiss.  The charm hung silently against the door.  She shut the door and went back to bed and they both fell asleep.

They both shot out of bed when they heard the sounds of howls and hissing accompanying the sound of bells ringing violently.  My grandpa flipped the light switch and my grandma stood behind him when he threw open the closet door.  A black shape leaped up and over my grandpa’s shoulder, they both screamed, and the black shape of a cat jumped out their bedroom window.  There was a loud crack inside the closet and the sound of bells stopped.  Grandma looked at the charm and the mirror was marred by jagged cracks.  An evil spirit had come and gone.

I didn’t remember the story being told this way and I waited for him to finish.  He was silent for so long I grew impatient and said, “It was just their cat, locked in the closet.”

My dad took a sip of his beer and looked thoughtful.  “Son.  They never had a cat.”

We Be in SLC

Our roadtrip has taken us through all the western states except AZ, CO, and NM.  As of this afternoon, we landed in Salt Lake City, Utah.   Internet experiences from each of our stays have ranged from spotty to slow – which means major suckage, regardless.  This is my first opportunity to sneak in a Talk Thursday topic, as well. 

We’re staying with Julz and Bill.  Midas is getting along with their dogs really well.  We will see Neener and her family tomorrow and we’ll be seeing their new baby, Brox Donavan, for the first time.  Sunday is Lynski’s birthday party, and Monday by noon we’ll be heading back towards home. 

Right now it’s a really nice feeling to be sitting down and not moving.  Don’t get me wrong, we’ve been through some of the most beautifully scenic rides throughout the whole world, but there’s something to be said about living life on the road and each stop adding to the postcards of our life.  Friends and family really are what it’s all about.

Rest Your Weary Head

Two years ago, I had the chance to meet my birth father’s sister – my aunt Pat- in Thermopolis, Wyoming.  Our “reunion” was a whim and a chance – I had been searching online for my birth father’s email or an address and I got a response, but from her husband – my uncle.  We emailed back and forth and I decided that no matter what, the next time I was in Wyoming I would meet them.  And I did – I flew to Casper, drove to Thermopolis and met them.  We had dinner together, I met up later with SML, and all of us hung out for a good portion of the next day.  I was comfortable the entire time.  I can still see her smile.

At the time, she was a cancer survivor of five years.  She was a fighter that fought two more years.  I found out today that she passed away.

I won’t ever forget you, Pat.

Me and Uncle Randy and Aunt Pat

On Family, Friends, and Weddings

The trip was eventful, memorable, and relaxing.  I drank more in several days than the last few months combined.  As I’ve learned as I’ve gotten older, there are limits on the things that can be done when returning home.  (Yes folks, you heard me say it – I do consider Utah my home – one of them, any way.)  It’s impossible to see everyone, whether they are friends or family or both.  It’s frustrating for everyone but that’s the reality.  The times I’ve come in “under the radar” are for very specific reasons, and I’ll leave it at that in case anyone makes me responsible for their one feeling getting run over.

Julz’ wedding was beautiful.  There was a thunderstorm earlier in the day, but as Utah weather goes, it blew in and out quickly.  The officiate was eloquent and I love how she informed those in attendance how Julz and Bill met and how they came to know and love one another.  Call me a sucker for guys crying, but seeing how Bill openly loved Julz really moved me.  They both looked splendid – glowing – alive.  Once the ceremony was over,there was time for photographs, meeting people, talking, excellent food, alcohol, more alcohol, dancing, more dancing, more alcohol, more dancing.  Somewhere in the evening I gave a toast to the lovely couple.  The toast went something like this:

“Hi everyone, I’m Don, Julie’s gentleman of honor, not her bridesmaid, because I’m not wearing a dress, so get over it.  I met Bill 20 months ago at a New Years Eve party, and since then I’ve had the chance to get to know him and his wonderful family.  I’ve known Julie since the early 90’s when we worked and went to school together at Westminster and travelled to Greece and drank lots and lots of wine together.  (And I realize now that I neglected to mention her own wonderful family, specifically her mother and sister, Kim.  No idea how I segued into it, but… then I said…)  There are families that we’re born to.  There are friends that we choose into our lives.  What is magical is when the friends we choose become family, which is what Julie and Bill are to me.”

Don at ceremony

Fantastic public speaker I’m not, but I got a few points for poise, a hot tux, and a receptive (alcohol enhanced) audience.

Nibbles

My family often went camping and fishing during the summers. My first fishing pole was a Fisher Price version – I would have been about three. As I got older, I graduated to a “real” pole, one crafted with increasingly smaller pieces of bamboo past the handle that fit together in metal sockets. There was no reel, only a line of about twenty feet max and the rod. I was content to fling the line into the water and make overlapping rings in the waves with nothing on the hook. From time to time my father would call out to check for a nibble. I was standing on the edge of a lake when something did latch onto the hook and pulled, hard. The rod flew out of my hands and I cried out as the pole went into the lake, floating and bobbing along since it was mostly a wooden rod. My father, at my side, laughed and told me not to worry. He cast out with his line towards the rod, reeled in the line, and cast out again. By god, he had caught my pole with his line and he reeled it in. On the end of my line was a foot-long catfish. He looked quite proud of my feat of catching a fish without bait.

Scott does this one thing where he grabs my arm, neck or earlobe and nibbles four or five times. It catches me off guard and sends frenetic energy through my body; I’ll spastically grab him and hug him and bite him back, usually on his shoulder while he’s giggling the whole time. There is nothing like the mischievous light in my man’s eyes.

I was in a foul mood yesterday. I know that my work-attitude is the pits right now, and it’s not helpful when people tell me to chill and “just go to work and do your job” when the last thing I want to do is be there. If I was less responsible, I would have quit already and would be making lattés at Starbucks (foam or no foam?). On my way to work this morning, I decided to focus and “just do my job.” I wore headphones through most the day and I didn’t join in the reindeer games. I was surprised by a phone call from a prior client who wanted me to call their associate about an opportunity. There are some potential past/present client conflicts, but the job description has my name on it. I nibbled and I called. The hurry up and wait game begins again.

More Firsts

On my job search, I got through to the HR department on the very first attempt and talked to the recruiter, whom on one hand was very helpful, but another was very frustrating.  Helpful, in that she gave me the background and expectations of the position.  Frustrating, in that she basically said that unless I had 5 years experience in that industry, I was out of luck.

My birth-mother (Claudia) and her husband (Ray) arrived in town yesterday afternoon.  This was their first time to my house, ever.  I took them through the house and garden and spent time talking.  They had brought filet mignon from Harris Ranch and Ray cut the 2.5 pounds of meat into four steaks.  I fired up and cleaned the grill.  I do not like touching meat (shut.up.), but this was the first time that I took raw and bloody cow and rubbed seasoning on each piece (and of course I washed my hands before and after).  They were on the grill a few minutes when Scott came home, and he took over for me as cook.  We had a fantastic meal of steaks and fresh asparagus.  Dessert was a dutch apple pie with vanilla ice cream.  We spent hours talking.  This morning we took them to our local breakfast joint.  They took off a a little while ago, which is why I’m sitting my ass down at the pc and blogging.

This morning we had an 11:00am appointment with a notary from our credit union.  We signed the paperwork for our refinance, which will save us 32-36K in interest on the life of the loan, PLUS, we’ll have the fifteen year mortgage paid in 12-12.5 years.  This is our first joint mortgage together.

On the blogging side of firsts, I broke a significant number with the last post with most views in a day.  I won’t bore you with numbers, but I was a happy camper.

A Short Respite

I’m on my uncle’s pc, which is kinda weird. I haven’t tried wireless from the hospital, and even if I did I’d be too distracted, hence the silence of the last few days.

My uncle was moved out of ICU yesterday. On Saturday he’d been given morphine, and it was that or a combination of drugs that gave him a psychotic episode: he was hallucinating and crying and the nurses had to sedate him. Since then he’s been clear, coherent, and his color looks good. He has a mild fever, but that’s peanuts next to what he’s already been through.

The last few days have been filled with family, friends, and new friends: connecting and reconnecting. By all rights I should be hoarse by now. My guts hurt from all the laughing because my aunt and cousins and I share the same sense of humor, which borders on the irreverent and profane. I’ll write later on real-life bloggers who I’ve now seen and basked in the wonder that is truly them. Who knew hearts could be so full?

I am the luckiest bastard in the world to have such love and light in my life.

The Sideon Invasion

An interesting couple of days. My father is doing fine, but he’s rightfully more concerned about his brother/my uncle than his own radiation treatments, saying something to the effect of “well if the radiation doesn’t work, they can go in and rip it (his prostate) out.” Yeah, okay, Pa. I’m sure it’ll be that simple. I hope it is. I got his blessing about going to Utah, but I did get the promise that he’d come out HERE as soon as he and mom (Pa is Pa, but mom is mom, not Ma) were able – he didn’t even argue that I’d pay his gas and lodging – not that he would have won, anyway.

So I’m going to Utahr. My aunt was thrilled when I told her I was coming, then she started crying, and then it’s fuzzy and I may have changed the subject quickly because I’ve been stressed and I really didn’t want to hear blubbering or “oh thank you” or whatever. I’m coming. Shut.Up.

I would not be a raging #7 on the Enneagram (life is about options, options, options – if I don’t have options, I’m not a happy camper) if I didn’t have a few back door options available. I told my aunt and cousin that I would NOT be spending much time at the hospital, unless they wanted me in there as a patient; I’d be happy running errands, shopping, cooking, or cleaning house. I’ll certainly visit, but I will not be a sentinel. (And if I’m ever in the hospital, I don’t want/expect anyone to visit – give me damn good drugs and leave me the hell alone. Seriously. GOOD drugs.) I will have the chance to visit friends – and I intend to use that time well.

As has been stated in other parts of the blogosphere, hide the cute missionaries, ‘cuz I’m a-comin’ to that whitesome and delightsome town of Salt Lake City.

Family-Style Guilt Trips

So my uncle is in the hospital from a myriad of issues, the most pertinent being a ruptured appendix and diverticulitis and his body flooded with infection and my father (two separate people – I’m not THAT hick or inbred) went in for his first radation treatment today, and here I am deciding on not-deciding on a possible trip. To Utah. Not Texas.

Trip from here to SLC via airfare (1.5 hours) is $350.00, where I would also need to rent a car. The same trip, driving 11 hours, would run $200.00, but I’d have my own wheels. Am I petty for looking at time versus money? Housing is not an issue.

What are the issues? Family. Work. Why would I go to UT when I didn’t/haven’t gone to TX to see my father or my mother (who had a stroke this summer)? Granted, I didn’t hear about my mom’s stroke until she was home from the hospital, so I didn’t get the luxury of an option on that one. With work, there’s the issue of a significant project that I need to finish. Part of me would like to say “fuck it,” since the prevailing administrative attitude is pretty much the same sentiment with the same level of support. Am I making sense whatsoever? No. I haven’t made any decisions in this paragraph, have I?

Pardon the delayed reaction here, but what I have realized is that I REALLY hate being the last one to be told when significant/life-threatening things happen in the family. Example A: immediate family calls after the fact. Example B: oh fuck it – it is what it is – there is no example B. Not that this is all about ME, but it when I told my aunt if she needed me I could be there, to just say the word, she said “word” and she wasn’t kidding. She said she “wanted me there for the love and laughter.” Why can’t my own immediate family say something that simple? You’ll know my decision if I buy a plane ticket or load up my car for a little UT jaunt.

Other updates aside from family: grad school? Love it – will write more later. Working out? Lost 3 pounds already and muscles are toning NICE. Scott? Move over, Heaven. Stained glass? Not soldered, but will finish soon (tonight?). Dietary adventures? I tried Alaskan king crab yesterday and loved it.