Family. Merriam Webster Online Dictionary defines family as:
1 a group of individuals living under one roof and usually under one head
2 a group of persons of common ancestry; a people or group of peoples regarded as deriving from a common stock
3 a group of people united by certain convictions or a common affiliation
4 a group of things related by common characteristics
5 the basic unit in society traditionally consisting of two parents rearing their children; any of various social units differing from but regarded as equivalent to the traditional family
A friend of mine stopped in to see me at work last week. In the course of the conversation she asked if I had sent out any emails in a while as she hadn't seen anything new in a while from me about Riley or how we were settling in here. I told her that I really hadn't sent anything out a mass email to people but was doing a blog instead. She asked me what the focus of it was and I didn't have an answer. I said I usually just write about whatever comes to mind... if it comes to mind.
This was last Thursday and I've thought about it since then and looked back over some of my earlier blog postings or at least the headlines. I think I know what my focus is and has been all along. It's about family. It's about the ones we're born into. It's about the ones we marry into. And it's about the ones we create.
I have the family I was born with. It's not in any way perfect. But there it is. Two brothers whom I admire for the way they have managed to make something out of the cards they were dealt from an early age, but I hardly ever see them. A mother who did the best she could with what she had in raising three boys on her own after the death of my father and that I've not heard from in over 8 months now. Plus numerous aunts, uncles and cousins that I absolutely love and adore (their stories I'll share as time goes on.)
I have Robbie's family that I married into. I can't say enough about his parents. They are true Christians who love unconditionally and never judge. If they could be cloned, I could corner the market on good parents. Robbie has three brother, one sister, and their spouses who have never once made me feel any less a part of the family than anyone else. And as I've said before, they can be loud and disagree with each other, but they also love just with just as much enthusiasm. I'm truly blessed to be a part of all that.
I have the family that Robbie and I created through our marriage and our adoption of Riley. We moved back to what we consider our home town to raise our daughter. This is the place we met, the place we married, and the place where we decided that we wanted to be fathers together. Hopefully, by being here in Indianapolis, we also change a few minds about what makes a family.
And I have a family of loosely associated friends from all over the country that are more precious to me than anything else in this world. We might not have a drop of blood common amongst us, but we are tighter than most families and just as important to each other - if not more so. If any of us are able to help the other, we do. It may just be a word of support, a comforting note, a funny email or a quick phone call, we're there for each other. But we because of them, we know that we matter in this world. I think that's all anyone really wants... To know that they matter, that their presence in this world makes a difference to someone out there.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Letter to Riley
I have an enormous task before me today. How do I impart upon our daughter how huge an event took place today with the inauguration of our country's first President of color? This is an open letter to Riley on what is possible in this day and age when President Barack Obama took the oath of office for The President of The United States:
Riley,
Today you are barely twenty months old and you have no idea of the importance of the events that took place today. And really, why should you? Your only concerns should be about getting fed, having a dry diaper, and having a warm snuggly place to sleep at night. Oh yeah, you also need people who love and cherish you, and you have that in abundance.
But back to today's events. It is a very big deal. Just fifty-one years ago, President Eisenhower had to nationalize the Guard in Arkansas to make sure that nine school children of color were escorted safely into what had been and all white school. That's a piece of history that seems impossible even to me today. It may seem like a long time ago, but that was only, ONLY, three years before I was born.
Our country had declared it's independence from Great Britain 176 years before that event in Little Rock, and within that document are these words: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. It is my hope that today we have finally seen the realization of that statement.
It also wasn't that long ago that people of different races weren't allowed to marry each other, that people of color weren't allowed the right to vote, that they were expected to "know their place" which wasn't in the same theater balcony, restaurant, or part of the bus as their caucasian counterparts. It didn't matter who was better educated. It didn't matter who was more decent to other human beings. What mattered was the color of their skin. A truly horrifying and small minded way of doing business. And yes, while it's true that even today people still judge others by their appearance, it's become increasingly less acceptable.
As a caucasian man, I could never presume to truly know what the struggles of the African American community have been in this country over the centuries. Or what they have had to endure in that time. I only have my own experiences as some one who grew up looked down upon because we were poor and whose father was a drunk. The only other thing that would give me the smallest glimpse at what it's like to be a minority is being gay. But, I have to say that with a few exceptions, it's not been the hardest thing to deal with. I've not had people call me words that I won't repeat here. A couple of books to read when you're older are "To Kill a Mockingbird" and "The Adventures of Huckelberry Finn" which are two classics of American literature that address race relations in this country in their proper
historical context.
More than likely, when you are old enough to vote, you'll look back on the events of the past 76 days and wonder what the big deal was. You won't be able to fathom that even the thought an African American could be elected president (or hopefully even a woman) was in the realm of almost impossible. Maybe you will just look on the inauguration of another person of color as just another presidential event in the history of this country and will look upon it as you did today... laughing and eating diced pears as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
I love you sweetie,
Daddy Jim
Riley,
Today you are barely twenty months old and you have no idea of the importance of the events that took place today. And really, why should you? Your only concerns should be about getting fed, having a dry diaper, and having a warm snuggly place to sleep at night. Oh yeah, you also need people who love and cherish you, and you have that in abundance.
But back to today's events. It is a very big deal. Just fifty-one years ago, President Eisenhower had to nationalize the Guard in Arkansas to make sure that nine school children of color were escorted safely into what had been and all white school. That's a piece of history that seems impossible even to me today. It may seem like a long time ago, but that was only, ONLY, three years before I was born.
Our country had declared it's independence from Great Britain 176 years before that event in Little Rock, and within that document are these words: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. It is my hope that today we have finally seen the realization of that statement.
It also wasn't that long ago that people of different races weren't allowed to marry each other, that people of color weren't allowed the right to vote, that they were expected to "know their place" which wasn't in the same theater balcony, restaurant, or part of the bus as their caucasian counterparts. It didn't matter who was better educated. It didn't matter who was more decent to other human beings. What mattered was the color of their skin. A truly horrifying and small minded way of doing business. And yes, while it's true that even today people still judge others by their appearance, it's become increasingly less acceptable.
As a caucasian man, I could never presume to truly know what the struggles of the African American community have been in this country over the centuries. Or what they have had to endure in that time. I only have my own experiences as some one who grew up looked down upon because we were poor and whose father was a drunk. The only other thing that would give me the smallest glimpse at what it's like to be a minority is being gay. But, I have to say that with a few exceptions, it's not been the hardest thing to deal with. I've not had people call me words that I won't repeat here. A couple of books to read when you're older are "To Kill a Mockingbird" and "The Adventures of Huckelberry Finn" which are two classics of American literature that address race relations in this country in their proper
historical context.More than likely, when you are old enough to vote, you'll look back on the events of the past 76 days and wonder what the big deal was. You won't be able to fathom that even the thought an African American could be elected president (or hopefully even a woman) was in the realm of almost impossible. Maybe you will just look on the inauguration of another person of color as just another presidential event in the history of this country and will look upon it as you did today... laughing and eating diced pears as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
I love you sweetie,
Daddy Jim
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
I've been sitting here all afternoon trying to think of something profound to write. We all know where that leads for me. Profundity is not my strong suit. Instead, I've just been chilling out, with our Westie right by my side (he's literally squeezed himself between my side and th
e arm of the chair) and watching the snow drift slowly slowly from the sky in big fluffy clumps. Hudson hasn't ventured out as much today as usual. It's too cold outside even for him. Not much is accumulating yet, and I'm not sure how much is forecast for us here. It doesn't matter because I'm planning on staying in.
We have a couple of bird feeders that we inherited with the house. I thought they might be a pain to keep filled, but it's truly calming and a joy to watch the birds gather in, on and around the feeders each morning and evening. The previous owner was smart and included a squirrel guard on the double shepherd's hook that holds the feeders. Just yesterday I watched with great amusement as a squirrel shimmied up the post trying to figure out how to get past the guard. He wasn't successful.
All in all, it was a nice afternoon. Quiet house, soft snow falling, and a warm dog sleeping beside me. A perfect time to just relax and be.
e arm of the chair) and watching the snow drift slowly slowly from the sky in big fluffy clumps. Hudson hasn't ventured out as much today as usual. It's too cold outside even for him. Not much is accumulating yet, and I'm not sure how much is forecast for us here. It doesn't matter because I'm planning on staying in.We have a couple of bird feeders that we inherited with the house. I thought they might be a pain to keep filled, but it's truly calming and a joy to watch the birds gather in, on and around the feeders each morning and evening. The previous owner was smart and included a squirrel guard on the double shepherd's hook that holds the feeders. Just yesterday I watched with great amusement as a squirrel shimmied up the post trying to figure out how to get past the guard. He wasn't successful.
All in all, it was a nice afternoon. Quiet house, soft snow falling, and a warm dog sleeping beside me. A perfect time to just relax and be.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Connecting The Dots - Part 1
I was going to make a really bad attempt at humor today. The plan was to talk about my experience with a colonoscopy a few weeks ago. This was going to be the "I got anal probed in my sleep and I wasn't even abducted by aliens" post, but I've since thought better of that. Lucky you.
Instead let me tell you a tale. A tale of how I got to here. I call it connecting the dots. Milan Kundera called it "The Seven Unlikely Events Without Which We Would Never Have Fallen In Love" (thank you Haven.) Usually I play the game backwards where I'll start with a person and end up with how we got to be connected. This time I'll start at the beginning and work my way forward.
Pretty much everything starts with my father's death. I was twelve years and two days old when the accident happened. It was a violent end to a man's life who could no longer control the hold alcohol had on his life. Or for that matter the hold it had on our lives as his family. We're told that out of every ending there is a new beginning. I don't believe that is entirely true for everyone involved. Sometimes and ending is just that and things move in the path that they have already started on. Like a game of billiards, the trajectory of one ball can affect the motion and direction of the other balls on the table. But some of them are never touched by the action and so remain rooted where they are. Luckily for me, I was one of the balls in the path.
A few years after dad's passing, when I was fifteen, a church elder named Mark took me under his wing to be a father figure in my life. He knew that I didn't have any grandfathers living and that dad had passed.Mark decided that he would be a surrogate grandfather to me. He would take me on errands with him in the summer. He let me drive his AMC Matador on old back country roads and talked me into attending a church camp that summer. It was something that I hadn't wanted to attend the year before or even that year, but Mark thought it would be good for me.
Great. Spend a week in a musty cabin out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of strangers. Gang showers in the bathroom, no doors on the stalls, and I'm 15 and I'm becoming increasingly attracted to guys. I'm not admitting it yet, but it's there in the back of my consciousness. Sign me up! I couldn't think of any possible scenario that could have been worse, but I couldn't come up with a reason not to go other than "I don't want to" which wasn't flying with anyone. Mom wanted us out of the house for the week. The pastor at our church was trying to save our heathen hides and David was trying to gain my trust. I was, in a word, screwed.
So, the pastor loads us up in his van, drives us to somewhere south of Terre Haute to an old Bible College that had been converted into a summer camp for Christian teens. Only one building remained of the original college. Cabins, a swimming pool and a dining hall had been added to the grounds over the years. It was depressing. No TV, no books other than our bibles and no escape. We had absolutely no alone time except for after vespers and before bed time.
My bunk mate was a few years younger than me and was attending with his two sisters and brother. His name, coincidentally was also a Mark. As the week progressed, we became closer and closer, staying up late at night talking about the people we had met and the days' events. My brother became even closer to his younger sister and would take the evening walk with her along "lover's lane" which was just a big circular path through the grounds.
The week ended and we said many goodbyes to the people we had become friends with in that short time. Mark and I stayed in contact sporadically, gradually tapering off communication over the next few years. With college looming on the horizon, I thought it was one of those friendships that would stay back in childhood.
Then I was accepted to Ball State University. My brother did the mapping out of our route to my freshman orientation. I started late and it was only a one day event - or non-event since it was pretty much watching a slide show and signing me up for classes. He discovered that the town Mark and his sisters lived in was just north of Muncie. My brother still had a crush on Mark's younger sister and got their phone number and arranged for us to meet up. They had an older sister my age who was at the camp that summer I met Mark, but I didn't remember her.
It was arranged so that we would go on a double date because the younger sister wasn't old enough yet to date on her own. Again, lucky me. Our first date (double date) was at an Arby's where we all met up after my orientation sessions. And there the groundwork was prepared for an on again, off again relationship with the older sister that would end badly (for the sixth time in nine months) when I realized that I was more attracted to Mark than I was to her. And, no, I didn't tell her that was the reason. Her immaturity was the reason I ended the relationship. Seriously. Six breakups in nine months. Way too much drama for this small town boy.
(to be continued)
Instead let me tell you a tale. A tale of how I got to here. I call it connecting the dots. Milan Kundera called it "The Seven Unlikely Events Without Which We Would Never Have Fallen In Love" (thank you Haven.) Usually I play the game backwards where I'll start with a person and end up with how we got to be connected. This time I'll start at the beginning and work my way forward.
Pretty much everything starts with my father's death. I was twelve years and two days old when the accident happened. It was a violent end to a man's life who could no longer control the hold alcohol had on his life. Or for that matter the hold it had on our lives as his family. We're told that out of every ending there is a new beginning. I don't believe that is entirely true for everyone involved. Sometimes and ending is just that and things move in the path that they have already started on. Like a game of billiards, the trajectory of one ball can affect the motion and direction of the other balls on the table. But some of them are never touched by the action and so remain rooted where they are. Luckily for me, I was one of the balls in the path.
A few years after dad's passing, when I was fifteen, a church elder named Mark took me under his wing to be a father figure in my life. He knew that I didn't have any grandfathers living and that dad had passed.Mark decided that he would be a surrogate grandfather to me. He would take me on errands with him in the summer. He let me drive his AMC Matador on old back country roads and talked me into attending a church camp that summer. It was something that I hadn't wanted to attend the year before or even that year, but Mark thought it would be good for me.
Great. Spend a week in a musty cabin out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of strangers. Gang showers in the bathroom, no doors on the stalls, and I'm 15 and I'm becoming increasingly attracted to guys. I'm not admitting it yet, but it's there in the back of my consciousness. Sign me up! I couldn't think of any possible scenario that could have been worse, but I couldn't come up with a reason not to go other than "I don't want to" which wasn't flying with anyone. Mom wanted us out of the house for the week. The pastor at our church was trying to save our heathen hides and David was trying to gain my trust. I was, in a word, screwed.
So, the pastor loads us up in his van, drives us to somewhere south of Terre Haute to an old Bible College that had been converted into a summer camp for Christian teens. Only one building remained of the original college. Cabins, a swimming pool and a dining hall had been added to the grounds over the years. It was depressing. No TV, no books other than our bibles and no escape. We had absolutely no alone time except for after vespers and before bed time.
My bunk mate was a few years younger than me and was attending with his two sisters and brother. His name, coincidentally was also a Mark. As the week progressed, we became closer and closer, staying up late at night talking about the people we had met and the days' events. My brother became even closer to his younger sister and would take the evening walk with her along "lover's lane" which was just a big circular path through the grounds.
The week ended and we said many goodbyes to the people we had become friends with in that short time. Mark and I stayed in contact sporadically, gradually tapering off communication over the next few years. With college looming on the horizon, I thought it was one of those friendships that would stay back in childhood.
Then I was accepted to Ball State University. My brother did the mapping out of our route to my freshman orientation. I started late and it was only a one day event - or non-event since it was pretty much watching a slide show and signing me up for classes. He discovered that the town Mark and his sisters lived in was just north of Muncie. My brother still had a crush on Mark's younger sister and got their phone number and arranged for us to meet up. They had an older sister my age who was at the camp that summer I met Mark, but I didn't remember her.
It was arranged so that we would go on a double date because the younger sister wasn't old enough yet to date on her own. Again, lucky me. Our first date (double date) was at an Arby's where we all met up after my orientation sessions. And there the groundwork was prepared for an on again, off again relationship with the older sister that would end badly (for the sixth time in nine months) when I realized that I was more attracted to Mark than I was to her. And, no, I didn't tell her that was the reason. Her immaturity was the reason I ended the relationship. Seriously. Six breakups in nine months. Way too much drama for this small town boy.
(to be continued)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)