We interrupt this spring day...

To bring you a terrorist attack...

Two bombs were detonated at the finish line of the Boston Marathon today...

But I want to tell you a couple of better stories...

- Last week, Katy's parents were here and ran the boys around like thoroughbred animals.  Sometimes they were so tired that at dinner their eyes would drift to one side and their heads drift to another and they would almost fall over (I'm speaking of the boys, but the grannies were also similarly, joyfully worn out).

- Saturday was Gram'ma Bella's 89th birthday party (at the local Italian place we've nicknamed: 'Spooch").  We dressed our boys up in their cute, cute, cute 4 piece suits and had such a wonderful meal with the extended family.  During that time, my great aunt approached both Katy and me separately to let us know that friends of hers were complaining that "no one dresses their kids up any more" and then she added: "But I tell them, my nieces- they dress their boys up so nice!"  Katy and I were tickled.  I love it so much when older relatives get it... "my nieces" (sigh).

- After Gram's party, Jake went to a Karate-themed birthday party and was so Thrilled when he broke a board in half with his bare hand.  He said to Katy: "Maybe there was some kind of little line in it that I can't see that made it easier to break".  She replied: "I think you just aimed right through it and broke it all yourself." And then he kind of beamed.

- Later that night, my sister and I took all our kids to see the Croods.  It was Milo's first time in a movie theater and when he walked into the lobby he gasped like he was little orphan Annie seeing the Warbuck's mansion for the first time, and told us, "I've never been HERE before."  We sat all through the long, loud, cute movie and about 5 minutes before the end a VERY TIRED Milo turned to me and whispered/whined: "When do we get to pick out a movie?"
Me: Sweetie, this is the Movie... we are AT the movie.
Milo: NO, the REAL movie
Me: (laughing with love and empathy) no.  really... this is LITERALLY a "real" movie

- Sunday, we hiked up sleeping Giant park Tower Trail (3.2 miles round trip).  Both boys did AWESOME.  Jake did the entire hike- up and down all on his own two feet (it's probably his 6th time on the trail- first time that he walked all on his own without being carried even ONE INCH!).  Milo did ALL THE WAY UP and MORE than HALF the way down only getting carried on my shoulders for about 10 minutes.  I was seriously, so proud.

If one more person says, "guns don't kill people..." I'm gonna lose my mind

Six days until Christmas...
I am gifting you with this "anti-gun" rant (though no where in here does it say we should ban all guns) that I crafted to post on someone else's FB page. I am heartbroken and I am mad as hell.

 

I will concede that "people kill people" if the other side concedes that the singular purpose of guns is to extinguish life or create a credible threat that you are willing to extinguish life (Not true about cars, or alcohol, or knives or rocks or fists or even explosives).

I will NOT apologize for wanting to lock up guns before wanting to lock up every person that is or could become mentally unstable.

The youngest and most vulnerable members of our society are unable to protect themselves and/or resist the allure of the gun culture that has been allowed to flourish. 

People are addicted to guns.
People have fallen in love with guns.
People think guns, even MORE guns can fix everything.
We are not learning our lesson, and we are living through the history that we will repeat until we learn that lesson: An unchecked gun-culture results in the unacceptable slaughter of innocents - sometimes en mass, sometimes one or two at a time.

I disagree that this is impossible... "Stopping gun violence is impossible". I completely disagree.

Nothing is impossible...
Seriously.
"Impossible" is just what people say when they don't want to do the work to figure out a tough problem...
"Impossible" is the message that gun manufacturers have spent untold dollars to imprint on our collective psyche.  Whispering into the wind, while shouting from the mountain until a made-up deterrent becomes fact.
Just sit there, 
          No need to stir...
                    This is impossible.

This country undid slavery.
This country reversed the prohibition of a women's right to vote.
This country invented child labor laws, and airplanes, and landed a man on the moon.

Do you think those things seemed possible or even plausible before they happened? Do you think that was easy? No, but there was a moral imperative, a call to action, people brave enough to look like fools for a cause they believed in.

In our lifetimes, drunk driving and smoking in public has become both legally and socially unacceptable. Ask someone in the 50s or 60s or 70s if they thought there would be a socially supported, legal mandate to forbid smoking in bars?!? [And imagine...  Second hand smoke only kills people gradually over a long period of time.]

There is no rational reason for military style semi-automatic weapons to be circulating among the general population. A woman on FB yesterday was writing about how every citizen has the constitutionally protected right to possess enough firepower to overthrow the government. (Ignoring for a moment the counter-argument that starts by pointing out that every white landowner also had the constitutionally protected right to own people of a different race as pets) That is an insane postulation based on the outdated ideology of a group of rebels (our forefathers) that unyoked themselves from the largest EMPIRE of the time.

Currently, WE OVERTHROW THE GOVERNMENT EVERY FEW YEARS by VOTING and the fact that not a shot gets fired and no one gets murdered is one of the true reasons to get choked up with pride about being an American.

Police officers and soldiers are professionals and they get to keep and use any guns they are provided with to do their jobs. But the argument that the average citizen is safer and can protect his/her family with a gun does not hold true. People who live in homes with guns are more than 4 times more likely to be injured or killed by a gun. And it's not usually the "gun-owner" that gets hurt. But there are countless accidents.

And then there are the incidents of domestic violence that would have been bad but because there was a gun available, turned tragic. People DO die in knife fights and are killed by fists and boots and plates being thrown across the room but it is easier to limp away and survive when guns are not involved.

Also, 30 bullets in a clip??? Nope. I don't care who is holding a gun with 30 bullets. Even a "good guy" is dangerous with that kind of fire power. 30 bullets in clip that can be fired at a rate of 6 shots per second, why should any private citizen have access to that? Why do we think that is a right?!?

I have loaded and fired a single shot musket, it's like 3 shots a minute at most. And the entire time you are reloading that fast, you have to focus a bit and are vulnerable to counter attack. I think it was Thomas Jefferson who said about the Bushmaster AR-15,
"Are you people fucking crazy?!?"

We are a nation of 310,000,000 guns. But this is not irreversible or impossible to fix. I am shocked to see people say, "it can't be fixed"... It CAN be fixed. Australia was an island of convicted criminals; a nation overwrought with guns. The govt changed laws, instituted a buy-back and the results included a 40% decline in the murder rate.

We need to decide to do something and we need to FIX this. We can either make our babies bulletproof, or we can fix this.

We can either lock up anyone that is mentally ill or has the potential to crack up (And by the way... You know who I'm most worried about losing their minds right now??? Those surviving teachers, and kids and parents, and first responders from Newtown, CT... please someone make sure they don't have access to guns on some of the cold, lonely nights coming up ahead for them)

or we can FIX this...

Let hunters have their rifles for hunting. And most Americans support handgun ownership with guns that hold 6-10 bullets, but if gun advocates continue to defend ownership of indefensible amounts of firepower:
assault riffles
endless ammo
one person owning dozens of guns that can be bought through the internet with no regulation
gun shows that do not follow the regulatory rules-
I think there will really be a public outcry and backlash...
I hope there will be.

People do not have a right to have whatever they want at the expense of the safety of the general public. At the expense of the health and safety of children. You can't smoke in a TIGFridays, but you can pack heat and carry enough bullets to instantly erase 2 or 3 tables of families if you feel physically threatened?!?

We can fix this. We need to fix this... We should have fixed this already.

Just so %!*#ing heartbreaking

I'm on the edge of Glory

For those of you that don't know, that is a Lady Gaga song... Edge of Glory - a song that our family is a bit obsessed with right now. I have an entire essay (vaguely outlined) inside me about how much I respect and adore Lady Gaga, and how if I can feel this way (as an older, mature, fairly "formed" female) I imagine you can multiply that by a million and barely score the surface of the desperate adoration experienced by millions of 12-20 year old women.

But that's a story for another day. Currently, I live with a (3-days-shy of) 2 year old who may simultaneously be Lady Gaga's biggest, youngest fan... and the ruin of her in my eyes. Milo*** won't let it go. He loves her. Her NEEDS her. And the little monster drives a hard bargain. When it comes to nagging us to play her music, he has the attention span and tenacity of Jane Goodall in the jungle. All he cares to listen to is Lady Gaga. And he is insistent. And I know you are thinking, "How can he know??? What does he really know about it???" But he does and he gets pissed if we try to listen to any other music. He acts heartbroken as if all other music is a compilation of dissonant chords and harmful to his dance-party way of life. For now, his parents are equally stubborn, and when we can't take another 50 rounds or 50 miles of Lady Gaga at the audio helm, we are getting used to listening to all other music with Milo screaming in the background:
LADY GAGA... LADY GAGA... PLEASE, MOMMY, MAMA... NO... NOW... GAGA...GAGA...WAAAAAAAAAHHH

(It goes on and on).

So, the title of the post also relates to my mood these days. I'm a little off-kilter; not sleeping enough; doing my best to balance. Finding myself needing to write more, but not writing. Finding myself needing to eat less, but eating like cRaZy. Finding myself wanting to exercise, but not turning the machine into high gear.

Despite what you just read, I'm pretty damn content with this life we are living right now. I am full of gratitude. I am amazed by my wife and our sons and basking in their glow. BUT... I am experiencing a fog of apprehension, and that familiar angst that comes with waiting too intently for the other shoe to drop.

The summer is fading, but it has been quite wonderful. Despite the fact that we experienced an earthquake (my first) and a tropical storm in the span of 5 days, we've had tremendous weather.

We’ve spent a lot of time this summer swimming and playing (and eating food) with friends and family… Some of that food has been seasonally fresh and healthy, and some of it char-grilled, processed, fried, and yummy (but very much the opposite of “good for you”- unless you are counting the “good for the soul” excuse that I keep coming back to.) We've had some terrific vacations: Ohio in July, Rhode Island in August...

This last week, though has found me in a bit of an angst-y, Don't-look-down-you've got-too far to fall melancholy.

To be fair, it's about to be autumn and I have a history of angst-y autumns at various times in my life. At this latitude, in this hemisphere in September and October, there is a very specific change in the angle of sunlight. The time of sunset sprints back toward the afternoon. It is still “summer” during the day, but the temperature plummets 20 degrees by a few hours after dark. You can close your eyes and smell the air (before more than a dozen leaves have changed color) and know you are breathing the first breaths of autumn. You could be in 80 degree sunshine, but know that shifting glare on the horizon means that the summer warmth will dissipate after dark.

Today is September 11th. I just finished watching the season finale of True Blood (a totally f'd up TV show that I can't quit) and about 2 hours of 9/11 "never forget" coverage. And I can't help but wonder, who is that slogan for? Isn't forgetting required a little in order to heal. I got my first glimpse of the WTC memorial and I just sort of burst into tears- it was the visual of the pools- water plunging down into the footprint of the original towers. I couldn't help but think of those people that jumped. I'm not one to get overly sentimental, but something about firefighters dying will always cause me to come a little unglued I think.

It's not just Sept 11th...

Last week, a 4 1/2 year old boy (a friend of a friend's kid) drowned in a neighbor's pool. The parents are a lesbian couple. The kids were with a sitter at the time of the accident. Feel the weight of that devastation for a moment.

Next week, the trial is about to begin for the second man who was caught in the act of, and then confessed to, robbing, pummeling, sexually assaulting, and murdering our friends one summer night in their own home FOUR years ago. But until the end of this trial we have to keep saying he "allegedly" did these things. His team of lawyers seems even more desperate and untrustworthy as he has shown himself to be. I know they have their job to do. But this guy is the one that is going show himself to be some kind of real SOB and I know you are going to have to put up with a little ranting from me in the coming weeks...

Then, there's Jake*** and Milo*** with their impressive, end-of-summer tan lines, and their ever-expansive brains and sharp observations of the world, and their little perfect bodies growing out of toddler-hood and baby-hood respectively. I know they are still young, but they are already growing up. And it's hard to imagine how we will continue to keep them safe when we know so much about how things can go wrong in the world.

There was a festival in town this weekend- food, fun, crafts, music (sorry, Milo, that the Marching Band, did NOT have any Gaga). One tent set up by a local insurance company was producing "kid ID kits". While you waited there, they took photos and fingerprinted your children. I wanted to do this because I can't imagine anything scarier than needing this data and not actually having it available. The entire time I was under this tent (probably 20 minutes for both boys) I felt like I might burst into tears. It was so anxiety producing to complete a kit that would help us if one of the boys disappeared, that it was actually hard not to mutter "never mind" and just run away from there. I felt as if someone was choking me and telling me a really sad story at the same time.

But you should see Milo*** in gymnastics class... and you should see Jake*** in ballet and tap and t-ball. It's a trick of the mind to worry about what bad might happen, when there is so much good happening all around. And I think it's a fool's choice to give into worry, when there is so much celebrating to do. These are the heroic lives we lead- planning a little for the worst, but doubting it will ever come and doing so with such loving intention that, that you make your kids feel all the safety the world may or may not offer.

Seething...

I'm at the library.
Seething.
Katy sent me out of the house to write.
Tonight I had a crazy thing happen on the way home from day care.
... Some kind of bullshit...
I'm so upset, I can barely make sense of it.
I am still tachycardic and breathing heavy.
I barely understand what is going on in my body...

I picked up the boys from day care. I was in a pretty good mood. It started pouring when I was about 2 miles away from them, but no big deal. Then JB decided that he didn't want to hold his lunch bag and somewhere in between, "I don't want to hold it," and "I WANNA HOLD IT RIGHT NOW!!!" (He has some "normal" 3-year old mental block(s) when it comes to decision-making) He lost his shit.

I found myself saying, "That's not how we get things, by crying and screaming..." This is our mantra some days and Katy and I try hard to not cave in. Like, these kids have to learn that they can have whatever they want (pretty much) but not if they are screaming and shouting and crying to get it... He wanted to HOLD HIS BAG... Not a big deal, but I didn't want to let him because "screaming and crying is not a way to get what you want". But then I got a "get out of jail free card" because he wanted to "HOLD HIS BAG- THE FIRST TIME".
(That's JB speak for "I changed my mind, and even though I said no when you offered that option, I want to do it. But I don't want to do it NOW, I want to do it THEN, as in- Can you please re-wind the tape and send us back in time so I can do it 'right' the first time?!?")

No, son. I cannot.

Cue hysteria.

These little fuckers don't know anything about quantum physics or the lack of advances in time travel.

So.

Pouring rain. Driving in traffic- headed to the grocery store. JB just screaming and crying in the back seat. I pull over and try to reassure him and reason with him. I try to wait it out a bit- sometimes a change of plan like sitting in a parking lot instead of just driving on, snaps him out of it. While we pulled over, i washed his face with a pre-moistened towelette. I tried to get him to take a sip of water. I am really really frustrated, but I am actually doing the right things, not screaming, not outwardly over-reacting, trying to find some way to distract him.

I start driving again... I'm a little raw and jittery... I almost have him calm- we are at a stop light and I am flipping though iTunes on my phone trying to get the Disney play list on for little mister "losing-my-mind" in the back seat.

This guy in the right lane next to me (but diagonally in front of me) in a big red pick up is trying to say something. I don't know what he is saying, but he is animated. I roll down the window and hear "light". I'm thinking It's something about my tail light... I panic a little in reaction to how he is gesticulating, like maybe my taillight is on fire or something. Then he's like shouting at me about how I have two kids in the car and I'm on my phone....

I'm not on my phone.

He's still shouting.
My blood pressure is rising.
JB who has stopped crying is like, "Why that guy is yelling, Mommy?"

I'm about to flip out on this guy- I don't know what he is talking about, but HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE IS TALKING ABOUT. He has no idea what has just been going on in this car, and he is giving me some "I'm-a-white man-in-a-pick-up-and-you're-a-female-driver" kind of reprimand. The light turns green. I lock eyes with him when i finally realize what is going on and curse him out to the tune of "YOU fucking ASSHOLE!!!"

Oops.
Kids in car.
I have never done that before.
I'm shaking. Trying not to cry. At wit's end. So mad I could spit. He pulls out in front of me and goes straight, even though he's in the right turn only lane. I stall the car. Restart the car. Try to stay focused through the rage. I expressly concern myself with not tailgating him or smashing into him. I am as mad as I can remember being.

Mistake #1: What kind of truck is it? Didn't notice- red, shiny, new-ish looking... that's all i know
Mistake #2: What is the plate number? Fuming... Didn't notice- there are some chains hanging near the plate.

He turns right, into the grocery store parking lot.
That is where I'm going too. I had briefly considered following him where ever he was going- to give him a piece of my unstable mind, but then discarded the notion. I take the right turn as a sign from God that I am suppose to follow this guy and tell him exactly how much or an !$#% *%^&@# he really is...

I park 4 cars away.

I leave my kids in the car and approach him. It is still pouring:
"You are some kind of !$#% &@#!!!"
I don't even know what I said, but he blew up at that point.

Me: You have no idea what was going on in that car!
Him: You ran a red light!!!

(I did not run a red light but I seriously would never say that b/c maybe i did... I have no idea what this guy is talking about. If I ran a red light, when was it? Where was it? Whoa! that's pretty scary... an Hour later I realize he is talking about the stale yellow light that I took a little liberty with when JB was freaking out)

Me: Who do you think you are?!?!?!
(I start to back up away from him, I want this conversation over)

Him: What would your husband think?!? You driving like that!!!

Pause for my brain to explode.

The world goes quiet for a minute. I see plastic bags blowing in the breeze, but hear nothing. There's an echoing whooshing sound in the distance, that i realize is the sound of air moving in and out of my lungs. Somewhere, on the other side of the parking lot, I hear a Qtip fall onto the pavement, and then sound rushes back into the world. My pulse is pounding in my neck. My mouth is dry. I am shaking.

Pause again to consider whether or not something in my brain might have actually exploded...

This guy looks to be about 40 to me (give or take 5 years.) He's got chiseled features, and looks fit. He's wearing hunting pants or army fatigues and either has 2 day's growth of stubble, on his face, or is one of those wolf-men that needs to shave twice a day. Though he gives the general impression of a redneck "fisherman", he does not give off a "psycho" vibe, just a self-congratulatory "asshole" vibe. This is not a grouchy, old man. This is not a plucky, young punk. This is the worst kind of arrogant adult male- who thinks he is in charge of personally reprimanding a total stranger in traffic. Who thinks he's somehow in the right when he decides to berate a women who is carting her two kids to the store in the middle of a rain storm after a 9 hour work day.

So, in my head I'm like, "YOU'RE going to determine some safety violation and create a situation AT A STOP LIGHT that is truly UNSAFE!?! YOU think I was the person that created an UNSAFE SITUATION back there?!? Oh, and this is the best part... YOU THINK THE BEST WAY TO "MAKE ME FEEL BAD" about something that I might have done wrong is to bring up my HUSBAND?!? The supposed man in my life that is in charge of me and makes sure I'm taking good enough care of HIS CHILDREN?!?

Oh Buddy, you are so barking up the wrong tree...

I wished I had said so many things. I wished I had just been calmer and more "ON" my game, I could have been all like:

• My husband died tragically when I threw him from the car while texting in a pizza order and running a red light.
• My husband doesn't care at all about these kids- they look too much like his brother, he encourages me to drive recklessly all the time; just hearing about how upset you are will please him very much!
• My WIFE... (If there is any karmic justice) is in a parking lot somewhere on the other side of town, doing EXACTLY what you are doing: verbally assaulting your gay lover with a barrage of loud, self-righteous, misogynistic, uninvited commentary dripping with contempt and condescension.
  

INSTEAD... I go with the truth:

Me: Yeah, I don't have a husband. I'm married to a woman.
Him: (silence)
Me: You've got a lot of nerve and no right to speak to me about this.

He's close enough for me to smell the smoke on his breath and he doesn't back down a bit. He is completely unapologetic and he suddenly shouts that he is a town police officer.
HA! (that almost sends me into orbit). I swear if this guy is a cop, i might have to move.
Also, if he's an asshole cop, he wouldn't have waited this long to bring his occupation up.
And, if he's a good cop, he wouldn't be doing this in the parking lot.
So he's either in between an asshole cop and a good cop OR, he's NOT a cop at all.

Me: You're a cop?!? Great. What's your name?

Mistake #3: He TELLS me his name (supposedly) and once I hear the name, I immediately forget it. Like, I don't have any clue... Maybe it was Mark... Maybe it was Dan... Maybe it was Janet Jackson... It could have been anything...

I don't even remember the rest of the conversation. But I know when he starts going overboard with the "hand quotes" gesturing, saying something homophobic-sounding about "your partner", I better walk away before I end up in jail.

The rest of the shopping spree is a blur
The rest of the dinner hour is a bust. I am wiped out. Scared. Feel threatened and unsafe. I get home and send the kids in the play room, and cry as I tell Katy the story. She tells me I did not do anything wrong. I seriously consider calling the Police Department in town to report the incident and to tell them that either they have a very inappropriate cop on the force, OR they have a guy IMPERSONATING a town cop... Katy advises against it (see Mistakes 1-3).

I spend the time up until now trying to figure out why this has caused such an emotional reaction from me... It is hard to put my finger on. There are a lot of things- the assholes always seem to win; justice is rarely a possibility; I feel shamed (even though any mistake I made was unintentional); I feel "in trouble"; I feel the weigh of the absolute plausibility that the people that are supposed to be "the good guys" are more than occasionally not actually all that "good"; I feel I was put in a position where my safety and the safety of my children was tampered with; My parenting and intention to keep my kids safe was called into question...

But mostly I realize, I am angry because I am very disappointed in myself.

I consider this whole scenario an epic FAIL:

1. I lost complete control of my emotions
2. I lost my sense of humor completely
3. With my sense of humor gone, my ability to come up with snappy one liners disappeared also; if you are going to lose your cool, at least win the debate...
   
4. I totally forgot to remember the important stuff - as a nurse... as a women who has always been taught how to stay safe and how to report breaches of this safety, I don't remember what he looked like, what his name was, his license plate#, etc, his height, hair or eye color... I"m not sure if i would recognize him if I saw him...
   
5. I forgot the number one rule about being a woman: No matter how much of an asshole another person is being (especially another man), you should just walk away/ turn the other cheek. You should assume he's armed and dangerous; Even going up to this guy in the parking lot was "my mistake". If you are a woman and a man, a stranger, is acting like he owns you (or has a right to berate you), your job is to just quietly let it go, be non-confrontational, and let him go on believing he does
   
6. I was unable to disprove #5
7. This blew my day apart
8. I'm sure this wasn't even a blip on his discomfort radar; his sense of entitlement and certainty in the notion that he was right is just too high.
   

I am seething still. I am actively working on letting it go...

But the audacity and hubris of this guy. The general lack of compassion and the blatant aggression. The pretend concern for my offspring when really you are putting them in danger...
These are just a lot of really sensitive buttons to push on a Tuesday...

Armed gunmen

I'm on the plane, coming home from CA.

Last night I told myself I wouldn't write about this on the blog for a lot of reasons that I will expand on below, but today- I realize I have to... Because that is what my heart wants and what my brain needs; and this space is at least a little to give my heart and brain a tiny bit more of what they want.

Yesterday afternoon, I got a text from my sister: “Did you talk to mom today?”

Pretty benign, right? But I knew immediately that something had happened.

Quickly, quickly- as my stomach was dropping- I considered some possibilities: a diagnosis for someone close? My grandmother didn't wake up? An accident?

Web (text): She's okay

Me (text): What happened?

Web (text): She walked in on a bank robbery

Ugggh... texting ends and I call her cell phone.

So, my mom doesn't like to put a lot of things out there. And my blog is probably not how she wants a lot of people to find out about this surreal, scary, personal thing that happened to her. But that's what it is to have kids – they are always taking your stuff and misusing it...

Mom went into the bank and whistles and bells went off in her head when she didn't see any line of customers or any bank tellers at the counter. In the few seconds it took for that neurological signal to translate into a thought, she saw a gun man, heard a shot, smelled some gun powder, heard some shouting, and left.

She left the bank... running... after a shot was fired... from a handgun...

She said, she didn't know what was going on. She said she thinks her brain couldn't process the foreign inputs and stimulus. She just ran out the door...

Holy shit.

I want to laugh. I want to cry. I don't know how to explain what I am even feeling about this, let alone what she must be going through. I mean, it seems like the man (there were two of them, but she only saw one) didn't even know she had walked in to the bank. Her instincts must have told her that they hadn't seen her yet, because she wouldn't have run out if she thought that would have put her in more danger. Right?!? The BALLS on this woman!!! To just know to get the hell out of there...

Once a patient told me: “It's okay to be liberal when you are young, because you're optimistic and have a forgiving heart... but as you grow older, only a fool doesn't grow more conservative.” At the time, I wasn't sure what brought that tid-bit of advice out of him, but I knew what he meant: I'm a person that believes in rehabilitative punishment, believes that a majority of violent crimes are committed by mentally ill or extra-ordinarily desperate individuals; that poverty, racism, class-ism, and decreased educational opportunities contribute to imbalances in wealth and power that make circumstances ripe for us to dehumanize and commit crimes against each other. It's not that I empathize with criminals, or excuse crimes, I tend to want to see individual events and experiences, though, and I tend to NOT want to generalize the intentions of others...

All these years, I never forgot what that patient said and knew he was probably right. I've sort of been watching myself to see when and if it would happen – me growing more conservative in my attitudes. I'm gay and anyone that reads this blog knows where I fall on the political spectrum, but the thing is, I'm definitely shifting when it comes to crime.

I guess I'm just getting kind of sick of assholes flashing and firing guns to scare people. To scare and threaten people I love... or worse...

Who do these people think they are?!? It isn't enough what happened to our friends in their own home 3 years ago??? It isn't enough that we were just starting to relax in our homes after dark???

A moment should be taken to thank God and the Fates and Furies and Winds that this blog post ends up being a meandering, insignificant “blah, blah, blah,” instead of a horrifying recounting of a violent crime. Because I can't bear to even consider what could have happened, I'll focus instead on admiring and praising my mom for rocking out in every crisis scenario I've ever seen her face.

Steady we go. Trying to keep each other safe, pretending that we control our destinies, clinging to those we love, trying not to be afraid of the dark. Or in this case, the broad light of day.

I love you, Mama- I think you are very wonderful and brave!

Justice is not vengeance

A jury sentenced a killer to death today in Connecticut on all 6 capital felony convictions.
The result was the only one that could have been reached.
It was just and as Dr. Petit said, "Justice is not vengeance."

Still, this result means nothing. It will not undo one thing that was done.
Nothing will bring back J, H, or M.
Nothing will change what was lost.
Nothing will give back what was taken.
Nothing will fix one of the thousands of things that was broken.

sign. uggh. yuck.

The first Trial

The verdict is in- 16 guilty counts and 1 not guilty (on the charge of 1st degree arson).

I'm glad for these results... but still heart sick.

Now the jury must decide the sentence.

When religious conservatives preach that to be gay is to be disordered and not in the image of God...

At least 5 times in the last 2 months, there have been national stories of teenagers committing suicide. They have become national stories because the kids were bullied, targeted, and harassed because they were gay or perceived as gay, and because for the most part, the parents, friends and communities of those children have spoken out after their deaths to say, "We complained about the bullying but no one did anything to stop it."

Not that one should be picked out as worse than the others, but the most recent was a Freshman at Rutgers University who was secretly recorded by his roommate and another classmate having an intimate encounter with another man boy. Tyler Clementi was 18 years old when he changed his status on Facebook to read: "Jumping off the George Washington Bridge. Sorry." His body was fished out of the water a few days later.

Justin Aaberg, 15, of Anoka, Minnasota, hung himself July 9th

Billy Lucas, 15, of Greensburg, Indiana hung himself in his parents' barn on Sept 9th.

Seth Walsh, 13, from Tehachapi, California, hanged himself from a tree on September 19th and died 8 days later.

Asher Brown, 13, of Cypress, Texas, shot himself in the head on September 23.It is hard to look at these faces and hear these stories and not get sick with regret and dark with rage that we live in a society that tells (especially boy) gay kids that they are not worthy of love and life. In fact, the message in a lot of anti-gay rhetoric is "you don't exist... God did not create you, you are deciding to be immoral- you can be fixed".

To tell someone they can be fixed is to tell them they are broken.

Ask nearly any adult gay man (many to most of the women too) and they will tell you the harassment they faced, the physical danger they were in growing up in school systems across this country was almost too much to manage. Now even though there is more support for gay equality and more awareness and "tolerance" there is this overt backlash and religious movement to proclaim that civil rights for gay citizens are somehow in opposition to the religious rights of zealots. That gay civil rights somehow means the end of religious freedom.

While the LDS and the RCC are pouring millions of dollars into trying to prevent civil marriage in the US and around the world, they are not only perpetuating the bullshit very-fucking-scientifically-negated notion that being gay is a choice, they are seriously over-reaching by extrapolating out that this (determined by conservative clergy, who very often are closeted and sexually repressed) "lifestyle choice" should not get legal "validation" or protection...

'Cause like, yeah... if I choose to eat shellfish, or get a divorce, or not marry the brother of my dead husband, or eat meat on fridays, or have sex during my period (all lifestyle choices that are frowned on by g-o-d in the bible) then I should expect it's okay for my neighbors to beat me to death when they get too upset about my immorality. Oh, and I should expect there to be a referendum on election day where everyone gets to vote on whether or not I am immoral and have a right to exist in my actual form.

Here is how "religious" people are getting led down a dark ally by their leaders that will some day be appropriately equated with the cross-burnings and terrorist activities of the KKK: A cycle of proselytizing against gay identity requires suicide of gay individuals to 1) continue to demonstrate (in the face of practically eroded evidence) that to be gay means to be mentally and spiritually unstable; and 2) since most religions see suicide as the final sin- there is no way a person that killed her/his self could have been spiritually worthy...

See how that works? Chicken, egg, chicken, egg... got it?
Let me try one more time:

• God hates it/you (as determined by me)
• If God hates it/you, we can't exactly expect others to be okay with it/you
• If those others beat you up or harass you... well, see what I mean about you/it being messed up? millions of God-loving people can't be wrong...
  
• What you think you are can't be real because God is not okay with you/it
• If you kill yourself, you must have somehow known this to be true
• oh, and also- those people telling you that it's okay to be gay are confusing you and they are also part of the thing God hates and most of the reason you probably killed yourself is because they confused you...
• No one who thinks that "being gay is okay" should teach you, or talk to you, or be alone with you, or be in a position to influence you because 1) God would not want that, 2) Those people are immoral, unstable, and dangerous 3) They are out to recruit you (since you were NOT created gay, the only way into "gay" is through RECRUITMENT!)
• PS- I'm not intolerant, God is...

see visual aid from Box Turtle Bulletin:


So HERE's the letter that I'm writing to my kids, and the advice that I'm giving to all parents within my reach...

If you enjoyed this rant, you might also enjoy something similar from Dan Savage. If you have never heard of Dan Savage, he is a potty-mouthed gay, sex advice columnist that came up with the greatest idea I have heard in a long time. A YouTube channel called: IT GETS BETTER. This is a way to try to stop kids from killing themselves... a way that any kid with the internet has access to a bunch of videos from LGBTQ adults that can tell them from experience that the best years of your life happen after high school.

The videos are amazing. Here is the video that Dan and his husband started it all with (it is worth 8 minutes of your life- pass it on):

1148 days

3 years and 2 months...

In our lives, since that day:
- one house sold
- one house purchased
- 3 anniversaries
- two children born
- three family surgeries- 1 c-section, 1 tonsillectomy, 2 sets of ear tubes
- Stitches put in all of us except the little one who needed a head CT, MRI, several lumbar punctures, and a whole bunch of other nonsense.

1148 days and nights of life and love and laughter, stress and grief, hunger and fullness, exhaustion and rest...
Countless conversations...
Weddings and vacations...
Drinking and dancing...
Playing, tickling, swimming, and nights at the pool...
Breast feeding, potty training, falling down and getting back up...
Tears of sadness and of happiness...
Many injuries have healed and scars formed,
but still, there is one big, unresolved, sucking wound...

We try to stay back from this. We try to have faith, have hope, and not get caught up in the fear and sadness that a tragedy like this leaves behind. We pray- for peace, for justice, for the man that survives- the man that exists but does not really exist, since that day...

There are things that can never be explained, repaired, or forgiven...
We are not vengeful people, but there are things for which vengeance was invented...
Senseless things for which there is no satisfactory atonement, nor any appropriate emotional response...

The next few weeks should be filled with joy: There are many things to celebrate in September. But our emotions will be layered, textured, and likely raw in the coming month...

The first trial is scheduled to start tomorrow.

Go to bed, already.

Tomorrow, we will try to spend the day demonstrating pleasantness in the midst of our anxiety and discomfort.

Tomorrow, we will try to remember the spirit of women who were pretty damn good role models even before the mantle of sainthood was placed on their memories.

Tomorrow, we will let our bodies and minds fight it out... Our minds want to be in charge of our emotions, but grief and anger have a way of marking you physically. And "the body" sometimes has a more accurate memory than even "the memory".

Tomorrow, we will cherish our children.
(A little more than we do every other day.)
Tomorrow, we will try to be gentle with each other.
Tomorrow, we will try to be generous and a little more patient than we usually need to be in our interactions with others...

But TONIGHT, before I go to bed, I'm going to check every window and every door (like Katy made me promise to do) to be sure they are locked. And I'm going to say a silent, but heartfelt "fuck you" to the psychotic criminals who killed our friends 3 years ago...

Then I'm going to wash the destructive anger off my face, and brush the bile off of my teeth, and try to shake the gnawing anxiety from my core. And THEN, I'm going to hold my wife close- hoping that my love and concern can keep bad dreams at bay- and trying to convey to her through my actions that no matter what, I'm here with her and I love her... and I'm sorry for the losses she has endured.

------------
Our church benediction:

Go out into the world in peace
Have courage
Hold onto what is good
Return to no person evil for evil
Strengthen the fainthearted
Support the weak
Help the suffering
Honor all beings
Amen.

Sad Anniversary

At just about this moment last year, katy called me at work to say,
"Dr P called out sick."
"What?!?" I responded in mock alarm.
That was so unlike him, it was newsworthy...

Little did we know that the term "newsworthy" was about to become the central, understated adjective. Nor did we know that at that moment they were all still alive, but not for much longer.

More updates followed: "I guess he's in W. Hospital... He must have had a heart attack or something b/c otherwise they would have taken him here... We can't get in touch with Jen..."

Then the next call: "They're gone. Jen and the girls are gone."

At eight months pregnant, I was just getting the feeling that "everything was gonna be alright." In terms of our baby and the impending delivery, my fears were turning into confidence and excitement.

In a flash I was weakly shouting into the phone: "What do you mean?!? What are you talking about?!?" I couldn't hear that she didn't have all the details. My instincts told me to get more out of her and tell her, "Get out of there- GET OUT OF THERE- Get OUT of THAT office..." Fight or Flight inside of me translated to: Her safety is my safety; my safety is our baby's safety; and I swear my first cogent thought was, "If this is some kind of mob hit, her location is next."

Get. Out.
Hit.the.deck.
And the crawl the fuck out of there.
NOW!

Admittedly, I was starting to lose it... Katy, stunned, trying to hold herself together, and momentarily regretting her decision to tell me this over the phone, asserted that she was safe, we were safe, and perhaps I should call my mother. I did just that and was crying before I even got the information out to my mom. We didn't know who did this, why they did it, or if more things would follow. Since learning the answers to these questions, I realize that I was seeking to believe that the societal contract had not been broken. i was clinging to a sense of normalcy that would never exist again. Somehow the what, why, how should have comforted us and provided a measure of security; but coping in the aftermath of a violent, truly random crime teaches you one or two things about how false any "sense of security" might be. There's no truth to the perception that if you "follow the rules," you and your family will be safe.

The last thing JHP ever said to me was, "I can't wait until this baby is born." I thought about that over and over again in the days after her death. The last thing I ever expected was to be attending her funeral with him still inside of me. That day, I'll never forget, the baby was going NUTS inside of me. I don't know if he was responding to my stress hormones, or if the length of time I was seated made us both uncomfortable, or if it was just his normal amount of activity that I perceived differently. It was one of the only times in my pregnancy that I could barely (mentally) handle that there was a thing inside of me... I was aching with anxiety and needed my space and this kid was crawling, and scratching and groping me from the inside. I wanted to scream... run screaming, but that was obviously due to more things than the baby.

We don't talk about it much. Especially katy. She learned her lesson early when i sent her to therapy and when she brought up the reason for her visit, her therapist started her own diatribe about how hard this has been for her and her family. This has been a prominent topic all over our state this year, but Katy has rarely opened up about it. She has endured a year of pt visits full of sobbing elderly men and their vengeful wives. The detailed depictions of revenge out of the mouths of grandmoms stuck with her in a more upsetting way than the wordless crying of the grandpops. Their doctor's family had been killed and they needed to talk about it even more than they needed their prescriptions refilled. At times too exhausted by her own grief to protest, Katy sat on the sidelines listening, to her patients, to her pregnant wife, even to her therapist- one part of her not willing to compete for support or "grief status" and another part expertly compartmentalizing.

We still shy away from acknowledging that this happened to us because, I mean... it didn't happen to us. But, it kind of did. In a completely startling way, the way the WTC coming down on sept 11th happened to "all of us," the torture and murder of this family happened to everyone who's heard the story. There seems to be something disgusting about "jockeying for position," but if we can ignore that for a moment- this did happen to our family in a much more personal way than to the towns' people in general.

Our friends are gone- so it turns our stomach a little more to see them in still-frame on the TV, and it burns our guts when we hear people say, "He's doing better than I expected." We go a little crazy when we hear ass-hats assert what they would do ("I would just kill myself") or what they "would have done" if they were the dad or were in the house. And we generally ache for what will never be- dancing together at weddings, celebrations of graduations, loads of un-delivered jokes and advice...

Over and over this year I've tried to stop imagining what it must have been like for them in that house. They must have at some point (fear aside, torment aside, danger aside) been thinking, "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME?!?
THIS CAN NOT BE ACTUALLY HAPPENING."

When I can't help myself out of the semi-destructive mindset of "What must have been going on in there," I seek some glimmer of comfort in the nightmare. i find what I seek in the idea that an extreme sense of irony and disbelief might have crawled into their minds at certain points. A break from fear or pain.

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME?!?
THIS CAN NOT BE ACTUALLY HAPPENING."

The mind's way of looking for the punchline of the joke. I don't know why that comforts me, but it is something about the human spirit transcending misery and taking a moment to normalize the abnormal, to acknowledge and protest a glitch in the matrix...

It's raining now- intermittently drizzling and pouring- just like it was on the 23rd last year...
Katy and I will spend the day separately- occasionally considering the insanity, of what has happened to our friends and by extension to us. We will spend a lot of the day trying not to think about it; or pretending that we are not thinking about it.

But just to put it out there, we miss these women. We hope they are somewhere having some fun. We hope they are watching over BPJr. We hope he can feel our good intentions towards him... we miss him too. He's done a good job of preserving their legacies. When we think about our friends, we find ourselves trying not to think about how they died, but how we can work like they did to make the world a better place...

Mental status update

This will be brief because (as I have said) we are on vacation, and the point is to chill and "escape" a little, but it would be dishonest to talk about celebrations and home renovations and perfect OB visits without also talking about the other reason there haven't been many posts in the last few weeks. The last time I wrote about about katy's boss, I was still unaware of the magnitude and the media attention that the tragedy would warrant. We rarely mention it to anyone without being told that "everyone is affected and traumatized" about it... I was even told by one of my friends, "If you had children, this would be even harder for you- it would be more devastating..."

WHAT?!? whatever... anyway...

Another conversation that strangers like to have is the WHAT I WOULD DO IF I WERE HIM tangent. This usually involves a lot of people impetulently stylizing an outcome based on empathy... as if you perseverate for a long or a short time on a man's tragic loss, you might know what it feels like for him or you might imagine a course of action if it happened to you... as if detached logic or other rational and ordinary life experiences might bring you to an understanding of the recreation of routine life after the unimaginable....

This invariably leads to many claims and projections: "I would have done XXX inside that house..."
Right. Thanks. If that makes you feel better... thinking that you could have stopped this...

"That's why I have a gun..."
Fine, but that would not have changed anything in this case...

Or my favorite: "I would just kill myself."
Really? How brave of you to be so convinced you'd have the will or strength to live or die.

I get moody. Because it seems invasive to focus on the WHAT IF of reordering your own possible grief, in a situation that is inconceivable and has not happened to your family. Instead of just sadly acknowledging the limitations of empathy and quietly hoping for some peace to settle on this horrific-ness.

Katy and her colleagues at work are doing amazingly well at holding things together and taking care of each other. It was nice to see many of them in our yard this weekend- to share some conversations and be together outside of a professional setting.

When we got to p-town, we walked 3 blocks behind houses on quiet, darkened streets to get to the center of town, and I admitted to my wife, "I feel scared for some reason." I am not used to the sensation, to be honest. I am used to general apprehension or slight anxiety. But I rarely feel vulnerable to physical attack. Kt, wisely pointed out that we haven't really been anywhere new without other people around since everything happened in the Pet.it's home that night.

This is not our tragedy, but we are close to this violence, this evil, this devastating loss. I keep replaying the few conversations that I ever had with jen. Katy keeps forgetting that jen and the girls are gone. All of it is happening in the context of high publicity that has friends, neighbors, and the general public feeling vulnerable and therefore justified in all of their opinions and judgements of all the players involved. Kt leans toward physical illness every time some patient or passerby describes the details of an imagined vengeance s/he would like visited on the perpetrators of these crimes. Not because she disagrees necessarily, but b/c she is sensitive to images of violence. Even when justifiable, vengeful retribution sickens her because she recognizes the that one violent act is not entirely unlike another.

I watch her- amazed; because she is so capable and multi-dimensional and protective without letting displaced fear and anger and grief consume her life right now.

We know this is not our tragedy. But we are affected and forever changed. We are here for after the photo and videographers go home to see if there is anything we can do to help pick up the pieces. We are willing to sit silently in this grief and loss for a while with a friend and mentor- if there is any way we can.

Harry Potter

Finally finished #7 on Thursday. The Deathly Hallows came to us at a bizarre time.

I'm gonna have to read it again. I started it Sunday, July 22nd which ended up being the night this happened... I read it not in chapters, but groups of pages at a time- in between periods of extreme sadness, anxiety, hospital visits, memorial services, and sleeplessness. I had about 24 more pages to go when we were deciding whether or not to go to the hospital b/c we couldn't feel the baby moving...

Long and short of it is that is was a strange time to be reading a book about dark and good magic, that is about growing up, overcoming impossible odds, and symbolizes the end of an era. I thought the book ended the series well, but I think I'm gonna have to read it again to say anything more.

Ramblings

My sleep cycle is so messed up...
Last night, I woke up three times. When I woke the last time at 3am, I stayed up until 5am and then slept 2 more hours until 7am. One of the times I woke up, I was laying there feeling my baby "kick" wildly (though it really seemed like my baby was maniacally techno dancing) when katy started sobbing in her sleep.

It was awful.
I stroked her and whispered that she was safe and she soothed and settled easily.

The night before, I had the first bad dream I've had in a while. (I just wrote out what I remember from it, but decided to erase it- too graphic and un-necessary for the context of the post...) The point is, I'm up again at hours too dark to get anything done on my to do list- lawns are hard to mow in the dark and the "little lady" in my life doesn't deserve to wake up to me vacuuming the living room or cleaning the attic at 4am.

We've been experiencing tremendous anxiety, inner turmoil, and sadness. We are truly appreciative of our life, our relationship with each other, our active and developing baby, and the people we are blessed to call family and friends. Still, it is amazing how you can't talk yourself out of the melancholy and apprehension that tragedy leaves in its wake.

I see Katy fall apart at the sight of a friend and mentor who has lost nearly everything... I ache for him, I ache for her. She weeps for the 3 women that the world has lost. She weeps because she knew them and misses them. She weeps for him because she knows there is little that can be done to help- except to bare witness. She weeps for the loneliness he will need to meander through. She weeps because he will never be the same. She weeps because though he is forever changed, he is not gone- he has been spared- and though that may be the greatest cause of his grief right now, it is one of the causes of our gratitude. She weeps... but most of the weeping is private, inside herself, without tears. I weep (sometimes with more tears than her) for all these reasons too... and for her- my beloved, to see her strength and beauty, the way she looks out for me, and the way she fully experiences this pain- it touches me in a manner that is physically exhausting.

I have seen many examples of class, strength, dignity and beauty in this life. I have been raised by and alongside people I truly love and respect. I have married into families of strength and kindness. I have friends that would tear down walls to care for me and help me stand tall. I have a wife who is 100% raw, hardened intelligence and (somehow also) 100% kind-hearted, intuitive generosity.

And this week, I have witnessed some of the best that the human spirit might offer. In the wake of terrorism, I have seen faith that is not self-righteous, preachy, or arrogant. I have spoken with broken hearts that have chosen humility as a coping mechanism, patience as a plan of action, and gratitude to anesthetize their grief and vulnerability. I am sleepless because it has left me spinning, reeling... I am in my body feeling thoughts and emotions as aches and muscular skeletal throbbing. I feel Kicking and Screaming inside of me that is not my imagination. I am growing a son that I know - even at this early stage - is OF me and us, but not mine or ours... That the promise we make to protect him is only what our best intentions can provide.

Maybe I am sleepless because the dark is little scarier right now, or because I'm afraid of wasting time in sleep. Or because I worry of all I have to do. Or because life is the opposite of intellectual and "normal" right now. Or because for most of the day and night, it feels like my son is a one-man-marching-band inside my womb.

Or maybe it's just because I don't sleep all that well.

Very bad things

Yesterday we found out that katy's boss' family died in a break-in, robbery, arson attack.

We don't know much, the details of the story are still unfolding, but we do know that he was beaten very badly, and his wife and 2 daughters are all dead. This is clearly one of the most surreal and tragic things that could possibly have happened. We are grief-stricken and more than a little freaked out. We met them last summer when we were invited to attend the summer picnic for the job that katy was about to start. We immediately felt welcomed by this family and the large work-family they were the center of.

Assuming that katy would work at this job for a long time, we looked forward to many times together with their family... There was no need to rush to get to know them better. We attended a few Uconn basketball games with them; we planned on having them over for dinner after the baby was born. Without realizing I was making these plans, I envisioned everyday socializing and big events that we would share: their younger daughter maybe babysitting on occasion and probably us attending the wedding of their older daughter. I imagined his wife cooing over our little one and us soliciting parenting tips from them.

It is strange. And that is an inadequate word.

Kt's boss is still in the hospital- recovering physically will likely be the easiest part of whatever comes next for him. Please keep him and his family in your prayers.