Tag Archives: BEING DIFFERENT

Uncommon Honor

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Our god-daughters come over every other Friday night for family dinner. (I think “goddaughter” doesn’t sit so well with one, but it is just too impossible to explain the depth of our relationships, so it will have to do.)

We’ve been through a lot together. J. started out 9 years ago as a perfectly lovely undergraduate with lovely light brown hair. One day she came over having gotten a blond buzz cut and some metallica in and around her face.

Then she started playing rugby which is football without all of the protective gear (and we know that even that doesn’t help much).

Then she came out as a gun owner (her family is from out in the country where hunting is the norm).  This was a difficult issue because we are good New York liberals and my mother helped found New Yorkers Against Gun Violence.  She probably enjoyed the irony of my playing with light sabers yesterday (see prior blog entry).

Then, as a senior she brought home a peppy young undergraduate for us to meet.  (See below about K.)

Then, there was the living on our couch for a while (she can come back in a New-York minute).

Then, she decided, contrary to my better advice, to go to law school.  Nooooooo comment.

Most recently, she came out as a vegetarian (remember, she is from a meat-loving, hunting family).  We are fine with that, really, we just would have preferred to know ahead of dinner that evening.  So now we are searching for good, vegetarian recipes for Friday nights. (I bet you thought I was going to say that she came out as a lesbian, but that is soooo old school.)

So, K. came into our lives about 8 years ago after we had gotten a little too much information about her for any self-respecting godparents to handle.  Also, I think I intimidated K. in the beginning or, more to the point, she didn’t really “get” me.  Maybe I was too over-protective of J.  (Ok, I was too over-protective of J. but sometimes family is a burden in that way.)

Anyway, K. schlepped J. out to New Jersey (which was beyond the three-mile radius rule I thought I had set down firmly).  Already not good.

But as time and life enfolded, we love and adore K. and she loves POB, and even I am growing on her (like moss).

Now she tells us about her crazy externships and the dangerous crisis circumstances (without breaking any confidentiality) in which she does her clinical work, and we try to stay calm and not scream, “Get the HELL out of that place!!  Who the HELL needs that kind of insanity?? Can’t you find a wellness clinic and practice there???”  Neither POB (partner of blogger) or I actually say it.  We listen with concern and interest and try to keep the internal screaming, well, internal.

And there have been sad and heart-breaking bumps in the road that needn’t be re-hashed.

So, when on Friday night, they said they had an announcement and a question, POB and I were both panic-stricken.  They saw this in our eyes, so they tried to calm us but not give away the surprise.  I think I reminded them that we have middle-aged hearts and sudden shocks to our systems are dangerous and cruel.

It was good news: they are having a wedding!!!  So, I figured the question was, would we host the rehearsal dinner or help pay for the caterer.  They talked about the place they picked and told us every detail and all the time I am thinking about the question.  Maybe it isn’t about money.  Maybe we are not invited and they want to explain why.  Maybe they want our son to the ring-bearer.  Maybe they ARE converting to Judaism (they are Jewish culturally now anyway) and want recommendations for rabbis to lead the service.  Ok, ok, ok, ok, I think.  Please ask the question because I am still concerned that it is a scary, sad or bad question.

Drum roll.  Since they are married in Connecticut and New York doesn’t allow same-sex marriage, they asked me to officiate the wedding and be the general emcee of the weekend.  I was honored, humbled, scared, disbelieving all at once.  What an immense honor.  I couldn’t speak.  I kept trying to say something, but I couldn’t formulate a sentence — I was still shocked that they would give me this honor. Tears started to well up.  I am still so overwhelmed and honored.

And as J. and K. probably figured, I couldn’t sleep on Friday night because ideas about the ceremony were flooding my brain.  (Some were really good; some not so much.)

What an honor and privilege.  I am indeed blessed.

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Less Crazy Than . . . .

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It takes all kinds of crazy from all kinds of people to make New York City a unique human experience.  A key to survival in this city is to think you are less crazy than at least one other person.  And if all you can do is feel less crazy than a raving lunatic, well, then, you only need to walk a few streets in either direction to find a more subtle version of crazy.  Of course, you don’t always have time to search for a less lunatic, but still crazier, person.

Here’s is what I mean:

If you are running late in New York City, the best way to travel is by subway.  Of course, the impulse is to take a cab because it should be faster since it is a door-to-door trip.  But there is always traffic in this City.  Yet, what did I do yesterday morning when I was running late for work (as I often do)?  Yep, I took a cab.  And I was surprised and frustrated that there was no magically clear avenue for the cab to zip down.  Even more irritating was that my driver was a traffic magnet.  Who drives down Broadway from the upper west side to midtown at 9:15am?  And, adding insult to injury, he had been a cab driver for years (I asked).  Still, I wondered why taking a cab didn’t miraculously reduce the time it takes to get to my office.  Crazy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

Realizing this, I had to find someone very quickly who was more crazy than I.

But I am in the backseat of a cab stalled in traffic a few blocks above the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle.  Agitated, I looked all around me.  There were the odd assortment of passersby but no one crazy enough to be crazier than I.  I felt a cold sweat come on.  In my head, I was screaming:  I cannot be the craziest person in this City!!!!!

Then I saw a homeless man standing in front of a former bank branch doing his Yoga stretches in the sunshine.  He was breathing in deeply as he moved his arms in arcs above his head and down.  Then he did the stretch with an arched back (something that has a name that contains the word dog?).  All I know was that he was breathing in deep, cleansing (ok, it is New York City, so not so cleansing) breaths and seemed to be calm and happy.  Ok, he is a crazy, homeless man because if you are homeless you simply cannot be serene and happy unless you are crazy. And, according to the great philosopher Forrest Gump, crazy is as crazy does.

So, I was less crazy that morning than the man on the street.  And some days, that is the best you can do.

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Gays in the Military

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Does anyone really believe that, with the lifting of the ban, gays will start wearing rainbow flags and singing Judy Garland songs instead of the national anthem? 

Military is a macho place where gays will be harassed for decades to come.  I doubt gays will start coming out of the closet in droves tomorrow. 

The point on the injunction is that no one can get forced from the military for being gay, so gay service members don’t have to live in fear of discovery while they serve our nation on the battlefields.  Our nation should be grateful to those who love this country so much that they will risk their lives even though they face senseless discrimination. 

Let’s get at the fear, which is sex:  Some people think that gay service members will start propositioning heterosexuals and start having sex in public. 

First, straight people over-estimate their attractiveness. 

Second, these people are trained military personnel who abide by a code of conduct. 

If a gay or straight service member acts in a way unbecoming an officer or enlisted person (use any example you want) then that service member can still be, and should be, discharged. 

And, President Obama, don’t fight this injunction.  We are here, we are queer and we are tired of waiting.

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A puzzlement

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How can we call ours a civilized society if politicians, pundits and preachers gain support and power for demonizing Muslims and gay people?  

I would appreciate hearing any thoughts on this.

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Sanchez and Stewart — A Re-Think

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A friend from high school sent me a message and thought I should rethink my prior blog entry on the Sanchez and Stewart dust-up (http://40andoverblog.com/?p=2921).

I re-read it and my high school friend was right that I was unduly harsh and outrageously judgmental (and, although she didn’t say it, I will add, hypocritical) in my comments about Jon Stewart’s religious observance.  It is none of my business and I was out of line.

I still believe that there was a potential for a teachable moment with Rick Sanchez, where we could talk about the source of the anger.  There is so much anger in our society right now that I just wish we would look more closely at it, together, and find some common ground and possibly healing.

And even as I was trying to make that point in my prior blog entry, I took a needless and shameful pot-shot at Jon Stewart.  As much as I love Jon Stewart and I would bear his children if I could (POB (partner of blogger) knows this and accepts this because, well, it is biologically impossible anyway), some things about him push my buttons and I react irrationally.  Maybe that it why I feel bad (a little) for Rick Sanchez (whose show is, in my opinion, so bad as to be unwatchable).

Anyway, to my high school friend, thank you for “calling me” on this and I expect you to keep me in line as you see fit.

~ Blogger

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Dreaming

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I had multiple and elaborate stress dreams last night.  (It is unfortunate to remember one’s night terror.)

It started out in the usual way: there was a test coming up based on FOUR years of college-level mathematics and I had cut all of the classes for ALL four years.  So, I had to find a tutor.  My college friends suggested someone, another friend from college.  So, we went in search of her and that takes us to Brazil.  But we can’t see any of the sites while we are there (we are always stymied) so we are looking for a cybercafe to look up all the must-see things in Rio that we are missing.  We walked by an open-air stadium and we heard Diana Ross and the Supremes.  We whipped out our hair brushes, and used them as mics as we did a lip-synching street show.

Some facts to know:

  1. I cut almost every 8am calculus class freshman year and scraped by with a C (given the grade inflation that existed at Dartmouth, it was as if I passed by the grace of G-d) and never went near another math-related course.
  2. On rides to and from school, we often whipped out our hair brushes to sing back-up for whatever song was on the radio (no CDs or iPods then).
  3. I have been to many cities in Brazil, as well as the rainforest.

So, stress and life conflated into an intricate, colorful and stressful dream.  Maybe the humor in my stress dream signals a growing maturity in handling of stress.  Or, more likely, I was lucky that my dream amused me, in addition to sending me into a cold sweat.

Paging, Dr. Freud. . . .

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Sanchez and Stewart

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I feel bad for Rick Sanchez and I feel bad for Jon Stewart.

I think Rick Sanchez was wrong about Jon Stewart’s sense of entitlement or paranoia as a Jew.  I think Jon Stewart’s cultural Jewishness infuses his humor with that contrarian-isn’t-the-world-crazy approach, but that’s it.

But Rick wasn’t really talking about Jon Stewart.  He was talking about how he — Rick Sanchez — feels about his place at CNN and the things that have kept him down.  I don’t think one tirade should cost him his job.  That only cements the anger.  More famous people get to hire a spiritual adviser and keep their jobs or move onto the speaking tour.  So, I say, CNN needs to listen to him and figure out whether or not his anger is justified.

As for Jon Stewart, I am sorry that he felt the need to change his name, although it is show business.  And Leibowitz doesn’t really flow well.  And Jon Stewart may have issues with Judaism — hey, he works (or at least new shows air) on the high Holy Days.  Even the most lapsed Jew in the world finds a synagogue or stays home from work for self-reflection and contemplation on these holy days.   So, he has baggage, too.

I have baggage.  We all have baggage.  Rick Sanchez should get his job back and he should go into therapy.

I will say it is odd that some bullying assistant attorney general who is targeting a gay college student gets to keep his job on a “free speech” argument and Rick Sanchez gets tossed for a short rant that he probably regrets.


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Ask about Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

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Yesterday I arrived in Orlando for meetings. My driver was a burly man named Johnny. I asked him if he were a native Floridian and he said he and his wife had moved here a few years ago after he retired from the military.

So, I asked him what he thought of repealing “don’t ask, don’t tell” (now, back to a theoretical issue).  I had to ask.  I know, it is like picking a scab but I couldn’t hold back.

He said that he is a Christian and that homosexuals were deviants and introducing sexuality on the battlefield was wrong. I mentioned that homosexuals already serve in secret and many with distinctions for valor.  He said that it was as wrong as having women on the battlefield because, in both cases, you’d feel the need to take care of them and as a result you were putting yourself in even further danger. I wondered whether this man had ever been on the front lines.

He couldn’t get past his views that homosexuality was an offense before G-d and that gay men were somehow less than men.

When we got to our destination and he handed me my bag, I said “Johnny, I appreciate your honesty. I am gay and I don’t agree with you. Thank you for your service to our country.”  He was a little shocked but he shook my hand.

I hope he remembers me.

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This Atonement Day and Beyond

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Yom Kippur started Friday at sundown.  We have our services at the Jacob Javits Convention Center.  It is a free service — no one is turned away.  Keeping an open door policy is part of who were are as a community because the synagogue was started nearly 40 years ago by gay Jews who were not welcomed anywhere as gays, as Jews or as gay Jews.  Now our synagogue welcomes people of all sexual orientation (including straight) and all gender orientations (I only know the two main ones, but I am told that there are as many points on that spectrum as, let’s say, colors in the rainbow).  Almost 4,000 people attended Kol Nidre on Friday night.

The senior rabbi is a woman in her late forties but she looks like a pre-pubescent, book-ish boy.  She is a thoughtful and insightful speaker.  And, she does have moments of levity, as when she announced that she would like to be known now as “Lady Syna-Gaga“.  Ok, there is a reason why our synagogue can never really go mainstream.

We ended around 10pm last night and started up again this morning.

This morning, we all went to the children’s service which had a fair amount of substance.  The rabbis talked about seeking forgiveness, saying, “I’m sorry,” etc., and otherwise tried to distill the elements of the Holy Day without dumbing it down too much.

Then we came home and I fixed our son a sandwich for lunch.  He is 8 years old, so he does not fast but we do put techno-toys away for the day.

I was about to sit down at the table to keep him company while he ate, but he said, “E-Mom, I would like to eat alone so I can think about all of the things I need to say sorry for and all the things I need to do better.”

Ok, my son is wonderful and all, but this is out of hand.  Reflexively, I asked, “Really?”

Right after blurting that out, I thought “I need work on not being so cynical and more trusting of my son’s motives, because we were at this substantive kids’ service and maybe something spoke to him —-”

My thoughts were interrupted by my son — ever the honest little boy, “Nah, I just want to play with the iTouch and I didn’t want you to see.”

At least he is honest.

We returned to synagogue for the late afternoon service through to the end of Ne’ila, the last service of Yom Kippur.  After services were over, as we poured into the street to find our ways home, two attendees who were, just minutes before, wrapped in prayer shawls, stole cabs from us. I started screaming at one in the cab that was then stopped for the light, “Yom Kippur is just over and this, this, is how you act?”

Then, I realized that my son was watching me and I thought to myself, “Yom Kippur is just over and this, this, is how you act?”  So, I stopped.

We hailed another cab and we went home, a tired but happy family.

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A National Day of Sanity

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It has been said that uncertain times make great leaders.  That was said about FDR.  But it can make for deranged leaders, like Hitler, and their followers.

The fevered pitch of the extremists in our society have enabled ill-qualified, borderline personalities like Glenn Beck to figure front and center in our national discussion.  (I might add, to give the appearance of even-handedness, that Keith Olbermann didn’t have appropriate credentials when he started Countdown.)

It has even forced a comedian — Jon Stewart — to sponsor the Million Moderate March on Washington on October 30th.  

A totally average (yet incredibly funny) man is taking a stand to tell everyone to sit down, shut up and chill out, complete with signs like ” I may disagree with you, but you’re not Hitler,” and “Got Competence?”

If this goes off well, October 30th should be celebrated every year as the “National Day of Sanity” because, at least, once a year, America needs a reality check. 

Instead of saying things like, “Happy Thanksgiving” or “have a great Memorial Day weekend,”  our national greeting on that day will be:

“Really? really?  You think so?  Really?” 

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