And the horse you rode in on

Hey look! An election post!

I recently said on twitter to a few followers who felt the brunt of my anger, "You can forgive my anger as you will, and I appreciate your words of kindness. But kind words have been letting me down for years".  This is a true statement, and it is no less true today.

I've heard many Trump supporters who, when faced with my anger, my pain, and my fear, tell me that should anything happen to threaten my rights, they will have my back. Well, pardon me for calling bullshit on that because something JUST HAPPENED to threaten my rights and you voted it into office. When you had the chance to support me and my kind, you didn't but now suddenly you will? Sorry, I don't actually believe you anymore. And really I've never believed you.

But, they say, Trump is really good on LGBT rights. In reality, we have no clue about his LGBT rights. What we have is a number of flip flopping statements and a photo op which is just a picture of him holding the pride flag upside down, with that "I'm the best, look at the best things I do" shit face grin. That means nothing, but LGBT republicans are flocking to that as proof to get them off the hook for the bad thing they just did.

So in the valley of blank that is Trump's stance on LGBT rights and lives, let's look into what we do know. Trump has vowed to overturn Obama's executive orders and policies and LGBT polices are included in that sweeping statement. So regulations that protect housing and health coverage, leave benefits, and transgender issues are out the door. This was confirmed by Mike Pence, who just last month said they would make sure to reverse these measures .

Trump also stated that he would appoint Supreme Court Justices that would overturn Obergefell - which he found a shocking decision - and that it needs to go back to the states to once again have a Frankenstein's monster of patchwork rights.

Trump also stated that he would sign the First Amendment Defense Act which is basically the smoke screen for allowing any business to deny LGBT people service under the idea that I offend their deeply held religious beliefs. And since these things are usually worded so vaguely to avoid being immediately struck down by a court of law, who knows who else is going to be swept up into this wave of protection.

But that's not enough for people. No, they think he is still an unknown on LGBT issues. So let's look at the people that he is surrounding himself with.

Mike Pence - even worse that Trump. He is seems to be the old school evangelical that loves to hate the gays... errr.. loves to hate the sin of the gays like that makes a fucking difference. His stances are odious and harmful and are listed here.

Ken Blackwell - he's on Trump's transition team and is a senior Fellow at the Famly Research Council. If you don't know who the FRC is, count yourself lucky that you've not run into this hate group. But among Ken's many statements, Ken likes to think that the gays can be changed with the right treatment.

Ed Meese - another of Trump's transition team. He's a fellow at the Heritage Foundation, again if you haven't run into them, lucky you. The Heritage Foundation just loves to day that protecting LGBT folks isn't necessary and we weaken the marriage culture. Plus, the Heritage Foundation is helping to vet people for Trump's cabinet. Let that sink in for a moment. They want to make sure Trump's cabinet meets their ideals.

Kay Cole James - more from the transition team here. She's a former senior vice president of the Family Research Council. We just talked about them, but Kay likes to compare LGBT people to drug addicts, alcoholics, adulterers, or anything else sinful. So much fun.

His cabinet appointees are already a list of people who are pretty bad on LGBT rights -

• Pam Bondi
• Mike Huckabee
• Ben Carson
• Rick Scott
• Jan Brewer
• Jeff Sessions

And it goes on. So, if you want to say that Trump is a blank slate on LGBT rights, his choices for advisers to surround him really fill in those blanks, and fill them in poorly. This is what LGBT people see when looking at a Trump administration, and this is why they are afraid for their rights.

We remember Prop 8, when that was never supposed to pass and take away our marriage rights, but it did. We remember the Defense of Marriage Act from people who at least said they were in our corner, and Trump has barely said that. We are a group that has been under attack for a very long time, and you just want to wave your hand and tell us to wait and see. We've seen plenty and if you have been too blind to see it or just ignoring it to sleep at night, that's on you not me. I'm not letting you off the hook, I'm not willing to believe that you will suddenly have my back.

Pride, Anger, Joy, Sadness, and it’s not about you.

I’ve been pretty angry since Monday. I would say since Sunday, but I was mostly numb on Sunday as a horror played out in Orlando, Florida at a gay nightclub named Pulse. I was numb because I was waiting for word on people I knew there, people that might not have survived a horrific event. I was also numb because violence against my community is my norm. I expect it – every day as I weigh what I’m going to wear and how I’m going to present myself and how much of a target that paints on my back. I was also numb because part of me was feeling comfortable again, and that part of my brain got a sharp smack back into reality. 

These day to day decisions, when to come out to whom, are just the exhausting part of my landscape. I have to decide when to come out to my boss, I have to decide when meeting strangers if I’m going to call Brent my husband or just avoid that whole conversation. I’ve talked about this level of oppression before in the blog. It’s not too far down, so I’m not going to rehash all of it here. 

Like many other LGBT+ people, I don’t show affection in public, Brent and I don’t hold hands, we keep a close but often acceptable distance between us. This is because such acts attract violence, anger, and more from strangers. I’ll never forget during the ‘marriage’ debate, how many tables would loudly speak up about their resistance to marriage equality when Brent and I would sit down to eat. It exists, it is a part of our fabric in society that loves to reinforce how LGBT+ people aren’t worth common decency and respect. We are still the ugly other, the ‘sin’, the unwanted. And this act of hate was done in June, the month set aside for gay folks to feel proud of who they are, proud for surviving. I know so many people who are confused by that, “Survive what?” We survived our society, our family, strangers and growing up gay.

I grew up in the 70s and 80s, I came out in the AIDs crisis, and I thought my time on earth would be very limited. Being gay meant dying, somehow. Either killed by disease or killed by a stranger. I survived hearing the jokes that were told about gay people at family parties, when all I wanted to do was crawl back into myself and hide at the laughter, because I knew they were laughing about me. I survived my own suicidal thoughts and actions. I survived all the games of “Smear the Queer” played on the playground, as my growing awareness of myself began to understand just what that meant. The potential of violence against me is real, and I know that because I’ve been taught that. All this was reinforced when I finally came out in college, and my friends warned me about going out to the gay bars that summer, because someone was shooting gay people around Loring Park. That is my reality. And I have it ‘easy’, because I’m not a person of color nor am I a woman. 

And the violence against LGBT+ people is always there, in words and deeds. 200 plus laws against LGBT+ people were introduced in the last year alone, backlash from being treated equally in marriage. When I was planning my wedding, I even had a family member question WHY I wanted to get married. Why would I want to enter into that after all these years, and then in the same breath explain how their child would have no choice but to get married. Because LGBT+ people aren’t worthy of such things, we sully these institutions just by wanting them, let alone getting them. And when that violence once again manifested in the largest mass shooting against my people, I and so many of my community all thought “That could have easily been me”. And it could have.

On the Monday, after the shooting, I saw support from those closest to me. But I saw so much worse in the world at large. Many people wanted to simply erase the LGBT+ aspect of the shooting, after all they were Americans first, and there is nothing wrong with being American. The subtle words that once again deny that my gayness is worthy of survival.  Many people stating that the shooter had done gods work, and that he wasn’t finished. Preachers actively posting sermons about how good and correct the shooter was for killing 49 of my people, while an unknown amount of other churches had similar talks but just didn’t post them online for the world to see. The righteous would appear all across social media to let gay people know that they were happy we were killed and nowhere was safe. Not even Instagram, where comments rolled in with glee, darkening the words spoken in support. Our safe spaces weren't safe, our month of Pride wasn't safe.

That’s when the anger began, and hasn’t stopped yet. The most galling part as I posted these words of hate, bringing them to the light so people can see just what this society does on a daily basis to gay people, a chorus of “Not all Christians” began. They aren’t real Christians and that I needed to understand that I was being unfair. This ugly, redirected narrative to not only silence valid criticisms of my day to day experiences at the hands of the devout but also to absolve them of ANY wrong doing, intentional or not. It was far more important that I be silent. I had to be careful about what I say, even though the local GOP has stated their mission is to undo my protections. Even though 5 years ago, the Catholic Church spent millions to send out DVDs to talk about how unworthy of marriage I was. Even though the righteous set a bomb off in a Target bathroom because trans people have to find a place to pee. If I were to list everything, this post would be pages and pages long. But let’s remember, it’s not about what was done to my community, during Pride. Because again, society likes to reinforce that we gay folks should just be happy that we survived another day. But maybe I should take a lesson from their book:

Love the religious person, not their religion.

And as I grieve and rage, I also understand that it’s not about me either. I felt the hurt and anger closely because it could have been me. But it wasn’t. There are 49 people dead, and their families are hurting. I have friends who lost people, and they will be sorely missed. And I need to keep my anger for them, so that one day, future LGBT+ people won’t know the fear that I was forged in and will just know peace.

And we will survive and grown stronger. I know that I will, because I've been doing it for 46 years now. I've taken the punches, sneers, words, and actions against me and kept going. It's what LGBT+ people do, and will keep doing for now and forever.  

A Force Awakened

Star Wars the Force Awakens is here. I, of course, loved it because it's Star Wars and I've previously explained how much Star wars means to me. However, there are many things about this new movie that I think were superbly done. JJ Abrams really created a wonderfully familiar sandbox that at it's core is Star Wars, but brings many new and exciting ideas to the Star Wars universe. He did what I knew he had to do, create a way to pass the torch from the old Star Wars to a new generation.

Before I jump into Episode 7, let me talk a bit out what I see the stories of 1-3 and 4-6 being and how they inform thing in 7.

Anakin Skywalker is the central figure in Episodes 1-3, and at their heart, 1-3 is a tragedy. A noble man is undone by a fatal flaw, and I do think Lucas was trying to go more Shakespearean for 1-3 than he had in 4-6 because this wasn't about a heroes journey but all about the fall of Anakin (he even tried including a fool in Jar Jar with very limited success). It was important to be aware of Anakin's flaw being his attachments - to his mother as a child and having to leave her behind, to losing her to the sand people, and his failure with Ashoka in the Clone Wars - so that when he is faced with another potential loss in Padme, he has no hope but to be undone by that flaw. It's also important to understand that only one Jedi obtained 'immortality', and that is Qui Gon Jinn. Yoda becomes aware that Qui Gon Jinn returned after death when he hears him in the force as Anakin is killing all the sand people. He then tells Obi Wan to learn how to do this as well. This are fairly important details that feed into understanding parts of 4-6. We are also told of the prophecy about someone bringing balance to the force, but we aren't really told what that is. Now, it seems clear that the Sith and Jedi think balance means that only they exist, but that's not how balance works. More on this in a bit.

So, 4-6 are all about the hero's journey of Luke, but also a bit about the redemption Darth Vader. More importantly, 4-6 are the first repeat of a cycle in many ways. The same bits that fed into Anakin's past, feed into Luke's past. Luke loses his 'parents' in uncle Owen and Beru, as Anakin lost his mother. Luke 'loses' Obi Wan, as Anakin lost Qui Gon Jinn. Both start on a hopeless desert planet trying to survive. And in many ways, episodes 1-3 are a mirror image of episodes 4-6. Now, there are a few things that stick out as being a bit off to me, and that's just how much Obi Wan manipulates Luke to try to get the balance that he believes which is no sith. He isn't actually killed by Darth Vader, but lures Vader to have a big showy fight for Luke's sake, then disappears into the force to become a force spirit like Qui Gon did (Yoda does this too). This way, he can place a giant wedge between Luke and Vader so that Luke is less likely to be tempted by his father. Plus, Obi Wan pretty much spins the truth to lead Luke around, for valid reasons but it's still a bit of a dick move.

This leads us to 7. Now, many people write off 7 as a remake of 4. It's true that events of 4 and 7 mirror each other, and that is very important to the story. By using the events and archetypes that we know from 4-6, we can learn so much about the world through the elements that are different than we do from the parts that are the same. Even the opening crawl does this to us with the last line, "General Leia has sent her most daring pilot". This is designed to make us think we are going to see Han, but instead we get Poe (aka my space boyfriend). Right away we are informed much about Poe by comparing him silently to Han. He's a great pilot, irreverent, and clever. But he is also very loyal and committed to the cause immediately, unlike Han who had to be convinced to think of more than himself. This says a lot about who Poe is in a short amount of time.

Rey is a woman trying to survive on Jakku. A lone figure on desert planet, who has lost her family. She is our Luke and we know this from all the little things they show us. She wears a rebel fighters helmet, she's immediately a great pilot much like Luke and Anakin were. Here, the similarities help us to guess at who this mystery girl really is. But they also show that she is a surviver. Unlike Luke, who was an innocent punk kid, Rey is a fighter who has struggled. She knows how to defend herself, she understands mechanics by surviving through scavenging parts (her opening scene of removing the part from the Star Destroyer is a clever telegraph of what she does later to open the doors for Han and Chewie on Starkiller Base). She knows how to fight, but she also is compassionate and wants to do the right thing and avoids temptation, like selling BB8 for more food than she has probably seen in her lifetime. But she also has a flaw of attachment, she feels she has to stay on Jakku to be with her family. She, like Anakin, can't let go. But unlike Anakin, she eventually accepts that loss in her life.

Finn is the wild card. Finn is a villian seeking redemption, but he is also our innocent. He knows nothing of the world other than what he was conditioned to believe. In that first battle, when what he was conditioned to believe and the reality of what he sees around him collide, he rejects that life. He also becomes our reluctant hero. While Rey is use to fighting, and runs head first into action, Finn wants to run away, to survive. They are a good pair together because they show the two sides of most human insticts, fight or flight. I think most people would be Finn, just get away and be safe. But Finn will do the right thing to protect the people he cares about.

Kylo Ren is Darth Vader, or at least he wants to be. All of the familiar trappings of Darth inform us about Kylo, he's cruel, angry and is a emo whiner like Anakin. However, they let us know right away that he is different. We have not seen such raw and blunt force use like we see with Kylo. This difference shows us something has changed. His powers are bigger, more dangerous (which is also mirrored in Starkiller Base - bigger and more deadly). But, we also get to see that unlike Darth Vader, Kylo feels a pull to the light, he knows what he is doing and can feel that regret and guilt gnawing at him. He has to remind himself to stay angry, to stay in the darkness where he thinks he has power. He is at his most powerful when he is lashing out, and filled with fear. The scene with Rey resisting him and uncovering his fear about not living up to Vader was excellent in not only humanizing Kylo and his weakness more, but showing Rey's awakening power and confidence. Kylo also has to deal with his father, and is offered the same choice that Luke had to make. But unlike Luke, Kylo decides to finally give into the darkside and destroys his father to make his journey complete.

So right away, we know much about these people by who they are like, and where they differ. But the events of The Force Awakens also tell us a lot about the world and galaxy. First of all, we are running through the same events again. We know that Anakin failed to bring balance in 1-3, but the hope that Luke brought us in 4-6 also didn't pan out. The cycle was not broken and things have gotten worse. The light side of the force seems to have been driven from the universe, and it's believed that Luke is the last flicker of light left, that is until Rey touches Luke's saber and her power fully begins to appear. In fact, Maz Kanata helps Rey to understand that she needs to let go of her past, release her attachments to move forward, allowing her to surpass Luke and Anakin. However, the universe is still trapped in an escalating cycle, the end result of this go around being the First Order and Starkiller base - bigger, darker, and more destructive.

The First Order are stormtroopers, so we know who they are right way. They are foot soldiers and loyal to this new 'empire'. But unlike clones (who were created and programmed) or the stormtroopers of 4-6 (ordinary citizens enlisted into the military), First Order stormtroopers are a horrible hybrid of clonetroopers and Jedi. These units are programmed just like the clones were, but were stolen as children - a practice previously used by the Jedi. I can't help but feel that this is a dark insight on the failings of the old Jedi order and how rigid they actually were, leading to their downfall. Star Wars has always been about light and dark, good and evil, uniformity against diversity.

Not only does Ep 7 thematically deal with light and dark, but how it is shot was so clever at underlining these themes as well. The opening planet is a bright white shot of Jakku, that is blotted out by the dark shadow of the Star Destroyer. The Stormtroopers arrive in darkness and become visible in the flickering light. They attack at night, and BB8 flees in darkness. Rey appears during the day, in the darkness of the Star Destroyer before walking out into the light. She finds BB8 during the day. Finn sheds his stormtrooper armor and his old self as he walks through the desert, and puts on Poe's jacket to become a new person. Han's ship is dark and empty, just like he is until he is returned home and the spark of life and purpose comes back to him. The snow on Starkiller base is bright white, and Kylo and Rey fight among dark trees - a perfect visual for the light fighting the dark. Kylo is in black and uses anger to gain power, Rey is in light grey (interesting choice) and only finds power through calm and letting go of her fear. Starkiller Base explodes and becomes a sun, a source of light. One of the most moving sequences of light and dark for me comes when Kylo and Han are on the bridge. The sun is being drained, but there is still light in the sky that is shining on Kylo and Han. It's only when that light goes out, that Kylo does the final act in darkness. Powerful imagery.

Star Wars The Force Awakens leaves many questions unanswered because it knows that it is part of a trilogy, but through clever use of mirroring, tells a very rich story in a small amount of time. Every time I watch the film, I find something new, like understanding that Rey was left on Jakku after Kylo killed the Jedi (as shown in her flashback). So, did Luke hide her away, and then leave breadcrumbs to find him so that the First Order was only looking for him and Rey could protected?

Overall, I found the movie to be brilliant and successful and I'm happy we have a new addition to our mythic cycle.

Don't you get sick of it?

"Don't you get sick of it, sometimes?" This was a question a good friend asked me many years ago. At the time, I was in my late 20s and he was around the age that I am now. He was talking about how exhausting it can be to be in a straight world, to continually have to work against the tides of assumption and ignorance. At the time, I said no because I wasn't there yet. Now that I'm where he was, I know what he was talking about.

There have been some very recent events of late that have brought my exhaustion into sharper focus. There is a drag queen in Ireland that cut to the core in a speech. If you haven't seen it, watch it here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXayhUzWnl0

Powerful stuff, at least to me. One part in particular struck at my heart.

"Have any of you ever come home in the evening and turned on the television and there is a panel of people – nice people, respectable people, smart people, the kind of people who make good neighbourly neighbours and write for newspapers. And they are having a reasoned debate about you. About what kind of a person you are, about whether you are capable of being a good parent, about whether you want to destroy marriage, about whether you are safe around children, about whether God herself thinks you are an abomination, about whether in fact you are “intrinsically disordered”. And even the nice TV presenter lady who you feel like you know thinks it’s perfectly ok that they are all having this reasonable debate about who you are and what rights you “deserve”.

And that feels oppressive.

Have you ever been on a crowded train with your gay friend and a small part of you is cringing because he is being SO gay and you find yourself trying to compensate by butching up or nudging the conversation onto “straighter” territory? This is you who have spent 35 years trying to be the best gay possible and yet still a small part of you is embarrassed by his gayness.

And I hate myself for that. And that feels oppressive."

I've recently become aware of the weight sitting on my back, pushing on my shoulders and added to the weight I carry in my day and this speech helped shine a light on that. I realized just what I do day in and day out to try to mitigate any negative blow back from just being who I am. Much of it is because I'm trying to plan a wedding. After 21 years, I finally get to have a wedding and be married. But this has opened up a new series of landmines. I spend days researching companies and services to find out whether or not they will even serve me because I'm in a same-sex relationship. I look for their blogs, I read their twitter, I try to find reviews, and anything that might give me a clue as to where they stand on my relationship. Because I'm already stressed enough with the plans, I don't need to add a lecture about my hell bound destination on top of it. And I know that I'm lucky, I live in a big city that has options.

But many times I feel that I have to live in a big city, to protect myself. That I need to be in an area with options, with paths that I can take when faced with denials because of who I am. To live in a space that might try to protect me because of my life and the person that I love. I feel the chains of limited choices sometimes, not always placed by me. When I was younger, I was more than happy to fight and yell and scream. Now, I just want to live in peace.

A spat of laws have come into the public view around this as well. Most haven't passed, but one did in Arizona and it basically says that I can be denied any service because I'm gay and that due to their religious beliefs it's ok to do that. And it enrages me. This law is sold to people because there have been some high profile cases around cake makers and florists, who have refused to help gay people and their weddings because of their beliefs that I'm not and gay people aren't moral, and our weddings and marriages are not moral. And I've heard so many people tell me that it's just cake, it's just flowers and to find someone else to help you. And that's great that I have options, and I can do that where others can't, but that's not the point.

Because the message that they are sending is that these trappings of tradition are fundamentally not for me. The things that may have made up the wedding of my parents, my brother, my aunts and uncles, my cousins - those are not for me because I am lesser. I can't have the flowers that I may have dreamed about, or the cake that can only be found here, because it isn't FOR me. It's for straight couples only. Instead of hiring them to do a job that they have told the world that they are willing to do, it's once again me who has to change and bend and allow someone else to have their way. I get to just shut up and accept that and Arizona is on the edge of making that officially and fundamentally ok and it feels oppressive.

It feels oppressive that I can't just call and say, "I'm having a wedding and I would like to have your cake that you make, do you have time?" like so many couples do every day. It feels oppressive that I start most of my conversations with vendors by saying that we are a same-sex couple, so at least they can try to tell me a lie about why they won't serve me. It feels oppressive that I worry about the quality and the cost after they agree because I don't know if I'm going to be punished in more subtle ways. And I hate that I think that I'm going to be punished because this is how the world has taught me.

So, years later I've changed my answer.

Lastly, I'll let Justice Richard Bosson sum up many of my thoughts in his most recent decision:

"The Huguenins today can no more turn away customers on the basis of sexual orientation—photographing a same-sex marriage ceremony—than they could refuse to photograph African-Americans or Muslims.

All of which, I assume, is little comfort to the Huguenins, who now are compelled by law to compromise the very religious beliefs that inspire their lives. Though the rule of law requires it, the result is sobering. It will no doubt leave a tangible mark on the Huguenins and others of similar views.

On a larger scale, this case provokes reflection on what this nation is all about, its promise of fairness, liberty, equality of opportunity, and justice. At its heart, this case teaches that at some point in our lives all of us must compromise, if only a little, to accommodate the contrasting values of others. A multicultural, pluralistic society, one of our nation’s strengths, demands no less. The Huguenins are free to think, to say, to believe, as they wish; they may pray to the God of their choice and follow those commandments in their personal lives wherever they lead. The Constitution protects the Huguenins in that respect and much more. But there is a price, one that we all have to pay somewhere in our civic life.

In the smaller, more focused world of the marketplace, of commerce, of public accommodation, the Huguenins have to channel their conduct, not their beliefs, so as to leave space for other Americans who believe something different. That compromise is part of the glue that holds us together as a nation, the tolerance that lubricates the varied moving parts of us as a people. That sense of respect we owe others, whether or not we believe as they do, illuminates this country, setting it apart from the discord that afflicts much of the rest of the world. In short, I would say to the Huguenins, with the utmost respect: 

it is the price of citizenship."

White Gifts

It might not be too surprising to learn that I'm not a very religious person. It's great if you are, more power to you. But as a friend of  mine once quoted to me, "Organized religion is like organized crime and I try to stay away from both". Take that as you will, but I was  raised in a religious tradition. The tradition of the Methodists, which from what I remember was less about the condemnation and more about  the singing and the doughnuts in the basement afterwards. I was even confirmed as a Methodist, but that is a story and a revelation for  another time. My family has many stories around our misadventures with church, and this is but one of them. Perhaps the most famous of them.

It was Christmas, one of my all time favorite times of year. For the small price of being mostly good, one gets phat lootz. From a magic man with flying reindeer. Which is just about the greatest thing to ever happen to a kid and an adult. I love the concept of Santa, and I pretty much love just about everything that has to do with Christmas. Especially the music, of which I have a lot. One of the best things about  Christmas is watching people stress out about how perfect everything has to be. Christmas perfection is a completely un-achievable goal, as something will always go wrong. I've long since accepted this aspect of the Christmas season and have made peace with it. And I think I have the church to thank for that, in just a small way.

Christmas is the season for giving, as they say. and one should always give to the poor and needy. This was a mantra that was sold to us over the many years of church going and advertisements, one that is rung by annoying bell ringers throughout the land and in front of malls. Christmas is a time to remember that not everyone is as fortunate as you - you in this case was myself and my family living in the suburb of Wayzata - and that we as a community should do what we can for the poor children who would not get anything for Christmas.

One thing that I always found strange about our church was how the various parishioners were divided up during the whole event. I remember as a kid we would start church up in the main room with everyone else and our families. Then after a few songs and the minister had spoken to the kids in a slightly condescending fashion, we were sent off to Sunday school. I hated Sunday school. It was boring and I was often with kids who weren't my friends and with whom I didn't want to form a friendship with anyway. I remember on more than one occasion heading off to the bathroom after being excused and just wandering the halls and spying on the other classes, especially the older classes to see if anything would get better or more lively. It never looked like it would, nor did it ever. Honestly, this is probably as close to hell as I would get. Aimlessly wandering plan halls covered in religious themes, looking for anything interesting happening - and interesting things will never happen.

It was in these Sunday school sessions around Christmas time that the lovely teachers spoke to us all about Jesus and his birth and the gifts and such. I never understood why Santa wasn't in these stories, as it seemed to be a glaring oversight on everyone's part. We all listened to what the teachers had to say, and then they presented us with the idea. We were to think of all the poor children who wouldn't have much on Christmas morning from their families and we should take care of them. Now, this also struck me as odd. Every story and show about Santa Claus clearly stated that he brought gifts for ALL children - even if they were crappy wood carved arks - so why did they need my help? This seems like stepping all over Santa's toes. But we were told that even with Santa, who could only do so much, these children might not get any toys because Santa liked to make sure their basic needs were met by bringing them socks.

Reluctantly, I bought the line as being good and no disruptive as a major part of the Santa gift getting rules. We were then told as a class, as was every kid in Sunday school, that next Sunday we were to bring in a "White Gift". Each child would find a toy for a poor and needy child and bring it into church so that it could be passed along to them before Christmas. They were called White Gifts because we would lovingly wrap each gift in pure white tissue paper, and then we would place that beautiful White Gift under the tree. It would look like glorious piles of snow under the tree, piles of warm and caring snow. "Be sure to tell your parents!" we were told. We all nodded in agreement. And 10 minutes after being told, I promptly forgot. TO MY CREDIT, my brother forgot as well.

Morning were usually chaotic in our house, as they are in many people's houses who have kids. And let it be known that I like to sleep. I like sleep a lot, and waking up in the morning was just about the worst thing to happen in my day. Waking up for church only compounded my hatred and evil mood. Despite having a week to tell our parents of the wonderful idea of White Gifts, as I was sure every other family had done, we didn't tell them. In fact, it wasn't until we got into the car and were driving the 15 minutes to Church, already pressed for time as we were often running behind schedule, that we remembered White Gifts at all. "Mom! We were supposed to get White Gifts!"

After quickly explaining the whole idea, my parents said the most natural thing of all, "Why are you just telling us now?"

"We forgot!" we cried, trying to sound somewhat pitiful.

After a quick argument over being late to church or arriving without any White Gifts for the poor and needy children, a decision was made to stop at the local drugstore and make our White Gifts purchases. The Rexal Drug store was a wonderland to me. They had rows of candy, a toy section, magazines and comic books. Upon entering the store, my father quickly found the tissue paper and scotch tape, while my brother and I started to head toward the toy section, which was much farther into the store. "There's no time," my mother hissed at us, "Get something from up here. We have to go!"

The selection of options near the front of the store was completely limited to everything you would never want to get for a gift. All the impulse items that might cause a person to say, "Oh.. I need that" and not "Oh, I want that". There is a big difference between want and need, and I've always felt Christmas is a want holiday; not a need holiday. While my brother and I pondered over the least offensive options, time ticked away and so did my mother's patience. In the end, we chose two sets of unbreakable combs as our White Gift. Oh I could only imagine the joy that recipients of our choice would get upon opening their White Gifts. Did you get a toy? No.. better. Unbreakable combs. It would be a true a Christmas miracle, these gifts of combs.

With everything purchased, we flew back to the car in an desperate attempt to make it to Church on time. Combs, tissue paper, scotch tape and a notorious temper accompanied my mother to the front seat as she set about trying to wrap these crap combs into the perfect White Gift for under the church tree. Doing any sort of detail work in a moving vehicle is a crap shoot at best, and already at her end, these White Gifts were proving to be a step to far for my mom. I could hear my mother's patience shredding as quickly as the flimsy tissue paper shred as the slightest touch of the hard cardboard of the comb packaging. After a few attempts, and many exclamations of "Shit!", my brother and I were surprised by two sets of unbreakable combs that had been hurled at us from the front, followed by fluttering pages of white tissue paper and a role of tape. "Wrap your own god damned White Gifts!" was our only comment and command. Indignation welled up in my brother and I, as we wrapped these crappy combs with all the angst two children who had brought this upon themselves could muster. Driving in silence, with only the rip of scotch tape to break it, we arrived at church with two oval bundles of White Mess that would need to pass as a perfect White Gift.

Much like all the other Sundays, the children joined the rest of the congregation in the main room, before being banished off to the depths of Sunday school. Each of us holding our White Gifts, we children lined up in a procession, to place our wonderful gift for the poor and needy under the tree. As we moved toward the tree at the front of the hall, the minister spoke of all the love and kindness that happens in this glorious season of Christmas and how these white gifts, so carefully wrapped with love, were true symbols of the spirit of Christmas. As I held the white ball of tissue with an unbreakable comb core, I just turned to look at my parents and glared.

The Deadliest Game

I don't have children. I once had the thought about having children but I quickly realized that it was more from the expectation that I was to have children and not that I really wanted them. I've been told by a few people that I would be a really great dad, and that might be true. But I think part of being a parent is wanting to care for that child. I didn't want that. Having children went to the wayside like the other expectations about my future life that didn't fit. I think people who want to be parents are amazing people, because I swear that 50% of their time is making sure that the child doesn't kill itself by doing something stupid.

This is a time when I did something very stupid.

To understand how this all came about, you need to know more about my family, on my mother's side. My mom was the middle child of five. She has two sisters and two brothers. The oldest is Janice, then Jim, Then Joyce, my mom, and because they ran out of J names my grandparents had Gary and Gayle. From there, they all had their own kids and we spent a lot of time together as one big family. I saw my cousins a great deal, and we would often spend time at each other's houses even thought some of us lived across state lines. I loved being with my cousins, and this is something that is still part of our lives to this day. We are also a crazy bunch that doesn't always make good choices.

On this occasion, we were traveling with my Aunt Janice and her five kids, Paul, Beth, Barb, Becky and Chris. The we part was my mom, my brother and myself. Now, I don't remember why we did this, but we were all traveling to Michigan - Midland to be exact - where my Aunt lived. Normally, we would drive around the big lake that is between Wisconsin and Michigan, commonly referred to as Lake Michigan, often heading south around the bend and up to Midland. For this trip, it is was decided that we would take the ferry across the lake instead.

I love being on boats and the water. I grew up on lakes, water and boats. I can't think of a time in my childhood where we weren't at a lake cabin or on a boat in the summer, it was that much a part of our lives. I had my boating driving license before I had my car driving license, which is to be expected because I think you can drive a boat when you are 14.

It was exciting to be on this ferry with all the cars, crossing one of the great lakes. But the weather wasn't that great and the ferry was rocking quite a bit. But that didn't really bother us at all, since we were used to being on choppy waters. And there was a storm, so it was raining outside and we were informed that instead of being able to go up top on the decks of the ferry, everyone was going to stay inside and out of the water and bad weather. My mother and my aunt started talking and within minutes were deep in conversation, completely oblivious to the rest of the world. So, naturally, we kids decided to wander the ship and have fun.

After maybe half an hour, we ran out of things to do inside the ship. There were cars to look at, and a few people to bother, but really it wasn't all that interesting being below decks on a ferry. I'm not sure who had the original idea that we should just go up on deck anyway, but one of us did. Perhaps I'm not remembering to protect the innocent, but we all agreed that being down below was boring and on the upper deck of the ferry had to be more interesting than this. So, we went.

The upper deck was had the main building and stairwell in the center of the deck, and then a wide expanse of wood on all sides that led to the outer railing of the ferry and beyond that railing was the cold waters of Lake Michigan. The weather had been terrible, but the rain had lessen enough that we could see while up there. But a few reminders of the bad weather remained in the form of really strong winds and a completely wet and slick deck.

Once we were all up and out of the stairwell leading to the deck, we shut the door and clung to the railing of the inner building. The wind was strong and was violently pushing against us. It was very difficult to keep your footing at all on the slick, watery wood and that's when the idea of the deadly game started. And of course, we thought what we were about to do was the most fun idea we as a group had thought up yet.

I want to say Paul went first, but this is what the game was to give you an idea of how stupid we were being. We would use the inner hand rail to pull ourselves to the front of the inner building of the ferry. Once at the top, you would step away from the building, let go of the railing and hold out your arms. From there, the wind would do it's job which was to blow you and your slick feet backwards across the deck, where at the last minute, you would grab the inner railing and save yourself from flying over the edge of the outer railing and out into the waters of the lake. I'll let you read that again to take in the scope of JUST HOW STUPID THIS WAS.

I won't deny that it was fun. The sensation of being somewhat powerless in the face of nature and you are blown backwards was thrilling. There was rightly a strong sense of danger in this action, and we all took our turns on this made up death ride. It became clear as we 'played' our game that the older kids had a much easier time with the wind that Chris and I. We were much smaller, maybe 9 or 10 at the time, and the wind tossed us like dried leaves. We flew down that deck, sliding faster than the rest and we lacked a lot of the strength to grab that wet slick railing at the end. But that didn't stop us from doing this completely insane action over and over again.

Pull yourself to the front of the building - release! Fly! Grab! Repeat! It was great fun. On my forth ride, I noticed that I was having a much harder time grabbing the railing. It was cold on that lake and in the wind and my body was getting very tired. But I still grabbed hold. Paul went, next, flew and grabbed the rail and was safe. Chris was next to go and when he let go, the wind kicked in hard and he darted backward at such a speed he didn't have time to react. Before he knew it, he was past the last chance to catch that back rail and was sliding farther away from us toward the outer edge of the ferry and who knows what. In my mind, I remember time seeming to slow down as most of us watched helplessly as Chris slid away from safety and toward the unknown. He was too far away, but suddenly, there was a long arm that grabbed his wrist and pulled him to the rail. Paul had let go with one hand and managed to snag him and pull him in.

With that scare, we knew on a deep level that this game was not only supremely stupid, but that it was now over. We hurried back to the stairwell and ducked back inside, out of the wind and back into safety. I can't say that we spoke openly about not telling our parents about what we did or what just happened, but we all knew that this was not a good topic of conversation. So we wasted time elsewhere until we were mostly dry and the trip was almost over before we joined back with my mom and my aunt. They never asked what we were doing, nor did we tell them.

It wasn't until my 20s that we finally told them the story of what we did on that ferry. My mother turned white and said the thing that only makes sense, "MY GOD! You could have been killed!" We just nodded, "That's why we didn't tell you," we replied.

A Galaxy Far, Far Away

There are many events worth mentioning in my life, and I'll probably talk about most them at some point. But it's hard to look at any event in my life without understanding how one movie colored everything that came after. In 1977, I was 7 years old. During these first 7 years of my life, I had gone to school, met people, slept, and pooped. All the things you really remember from your childhood years. It was normal and good.

Being a young child of 7, I never really paid that much attention to the popular culture. I was too young to take part in most of it and there was no internet to corrupt me. Which is to say that I was unaware that on May 25th, just 6 days after I had turned 7, the most amazing thing had entered the movie theaters and nothing would be the same.

"Star Wars" had opened.

I remember being at a party with my family, and my mom's cousin had asked my dad if we had seen Star Wars yet. My father told him that we had not, but that he had been thinking about taking us to go see it. "You HAVE to go see it," he said to my father, "It's like nothing I've seen." My father took that information in and made a promise to take us to see this film soon.

I don't remember my brother and I being terrible to deal with at movies, and given the fact that in my family no mistake is forgotten, I think I would have heard about our behavior by now. So, taking his two boys to a movie was pretty common. We loved movies and my dad loved taking us to movies. It was a great escape for a few hours and there is nothing like seeing something on the big screen, since TVs back them were kinda crappy. I don't remember which theater we went too. Chances are good that it was Shelard Park, because we saw a lot of movies there but I don't remember exactly. My memories have the Shelard Park Theater as a somewhat underground, shapeless concrete building with 3 theaters inside. There was a covered parking ramp that always made me think it was in a cave. I do remember that it was pretty crowded when we got there and that seemed odd to me. We tended to avoid crowded times at the movies.

My father got us tickets and all three of us entered the theater to see what this was all about. I will say for certain that my little 7 year old mind was not ready for what was about to happen. I think it was the same for my brother, who was 10. I remember that first blast of music after the drum roll of the 20th Century Fox logo, and how I jumped a bit in my seat. I rushed to read what I could of the scrolling words as the moved through space on the screen. HOLY GOD! THERE WERE GIANT WORDS MOVING IN SPACE! Then the action started. There were lasers and spaceships. OMG, what are those? Stormtroopers? What is that? WHO is that guy? Why are those droids so awesome? There's another planet? Did Darth Vader just kill that guy by lifting him off the ground? Who is she? Look.. desert! WHAT ARE THOSE?! JAWAS?! OMG I want one! Who is that? Luke is awesome. I want a lightsaber!

I could go on. Seriously, I could. Every moment of that fist viewing was poured into my body and slowly took over. I sat there in awe of what was happening before me. Every pleasure center in my brain was on fire and I was hooked deeply. I couldn't get enough. And when it was over, it was as if I was coming out of a trace. And nothing was the same. Whatever I cared about before Star Wars didn't matter. If we ever played cops and robbers or any other make believe game, those were gone. Obliterated and now dust in my mind. The only games now were Star Wars themed. The only thing I wanted to be was a Jedi. The only character I wanted to play was Luke. The only toys I wanted were Star Wars toys. And I knew that I needed to see this movie again.

At the time, many people were keeping count of how many times they had seen Star Wars. It was a weird badge of honor, something that you proclaimed to others to impress them at parties. My brother and I used to keep score. Over these many years, I've lost count. I would only count the times I actually saw the movie in an actual theater, and I lost count when I went over 130 times. We went to go see Star Wars every chance we could get. Any time we could talk our dad into going, we would go. As the years went on, Star Wars would hit the theaters again, and we would go. My brother and I would bike to the theater and see it. We would play with the toys, and carry them with us. Complete scripts would be created by my brother, and we would act them out with the action figures throughout the house. I wanted the sheets, I wanted the posters, I wanted it all.

Our love of Star Wars would drive us to seek out other space related movies to see when we couldn't see Star Wars. In 1979, we learned that people can make really shitty movies when we saw Disney's "The Black Hole". The movie was horrible. I was 9 and even I knew it was a complete turd of a movie and that turd was only on screen because it was to be Star Wars-esque and rip people off. Had I known you could walk out of a theater, I would have done so. Not that I could have gone anywhere, but I would have left on principle alone.

On May 21, 1980 - just a few days after my 10th birthday, "Empire Strikes Back" came out. And we went and see it. I know so many people who considered Empire as their favorite of the Star Wars movies. But at the time, it made me SO MAD. I hated that Luke lost his hand, that Han was encased in carbonite, and that
the rebels had their butts kicked. It made me angry. And I refused, completely refused to believe this lie about Darth Vader being Luke's father. It wasn't true! IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE! My little 10 year old self was outraged by what I saw and that the good guys were not winning. It wasn't fair and that sentiment still colors my view of Empire to this day. There is that complete sense of betrayal that I deal with every time time I watch Empire. I know it is a great film, and I get why so many people love it. But it still sits in the place in my heart, where a 10 year old kid saw that sometimes good guys lose. And sometimes things don't work out as planned and that life isn't really all that fair. But I wanted the toys anyways.

On May 25, 1983 - again 6 days after my 13th birthday, "Return of the Jedi" was coming out. By this time, my brother and I were well in the know. We had issue upon issue of Starlog magazine that told us all about the films, and all about the release date. We were counting down the days as to when we could go see Return of the Jedi. That is when my mother surprised us both. On opening day, we could not only see Return of the Jedi when it opened, we could also miss school to see one of the first showings. This would be my first
"stand in line to see a movie" experience. I remember it was maybe 8 am when my mom dropped my brother and I off at the Southtown Theater and there was already a line. But it wan't that long of a line yet and we found our spot and waited. We marveled at the costumes people were wearing, with one guy in a full Darth Vader outfit that wandered up and down the line. We sat and read Starlog and chatted with people around us. It was fun and exhausting. At noon, the line finally moved and we got to see Return of the Jedi for the first time. And I loved it. Any betrayal that I felt at Empire was replaced by the joy and conclusion of Jedi. And then it was done. The trilogy was over and complete.

There had always been rumors about making more Star Wars movies at the time, but we didn't really believe them. We had a complete story and I was happy with it. I had all my action figures, and toys. I was happy. Star Wars ruled my imagination, and it still does in many ways. It showed me that people can work together to make a wonderful thing that thousands and millions of people enjoy. I dreamt of new worlds and new places. I thought about the light and dark side and what that might actually mean. It was part of my core, it was how I often related to people and things. It was part of my language, part of how I met people. It was a common love that I could find in others and we could share that experience and our love for this thing.

It also became a bonding thing in my family. It was a special moment that I shared with my dad and my brother. These were our movies, these were movies that brought us close together and bonded us. We would see these movies together and share these happy memories for as long as we are on this earth together. Whenever these movies were re-releases, we three would be there to see them, as a family.

When the special editions started coming out, we were there to see them. My dad waited in line with my brother and I to get tickets, just like we did when we saw Jedi. We stood, this time in the Mall of America, and talked and bonded again. Star Wars always brought us back together, even if we left for college or moved elsewhere. It would bring us back.

It was in line to buy tickets for Star Wars: The Phantom Menace that I bought a simple game for my game boy that I had read about. It was Pokemon Red and I was very curious what it was. I had no idea what I was in for with that game. And I've been playing Pokemon ever since.

And for once, Star War was OPENING ON MY BIRTHDAY! May 19, 1999. I would turn 29. A bunch of us got together to see a 7 am show, and I celebrated my birthday in the seats of a theater in Mall of America. I opened presents and laughed and waited. Waited for a new story in the universe that I love.

Now, most people hate the prequels. I don't. I love them. When I sat in that theater and watched a new Star Wars blaze against the screen, I cried in happiness. I was 7 years old again, and I was getting to return to this universe that means so much to me, that is such a huge part of my life. I can understand those that felt so let down by it, because I can imagine how much Star Wars was a part of their worlds and it just wasn't what they wanted. I just wanted Star Wars, any Star Wars.

I can analyse and pick apart many things, movies especially. But I don't with Star Wars. I just watch it like I'm seven and dream of these grand places and characters. I relish in the new characters, the new planets and the new fantasies. Each new movie added to my own imagination and wonder. And I'm grateful for that. I find it impossible for me to separate out all of the joy that these movies have brought into my life, all of the wonderful family bonds that I have through this series. When I watch Star Wars, I think of my dad and brother, I think of the great times we have had and continue to have through these movies. I think about my brother slowly introducing Star Wars to his kids and watching them find new things that they love and take with them. Our family bonds are coated with Star Wars and we share that together. My first dog was named Leia because of Star Wars; and many years later, I named my crazy dog Winter - Princess Leia's best friend from the extended universe - as a tie back to my childhood.

Because of all this, I have a blind spot for these movie. I love the old ones, I love the prequels, and I will love the new ones that are coming. There are problems with the films, all the of changes that have been made to the movies and all of the questionable content that people love to hate. But I don't see it. I just see joy and warmth and a universe that I want to be in with my family forever.

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