February 2008

February 28th is my “Reverse Day!” Instead of celebrating the Anniversary of my 28th Birthday, as I have for the last eight years, I am just going to go back this year. So, I am now 35 and have some of my memory back too! I loved being 35, so I think it suits me well! Here are some fun things that I love in honor of my Reverse Day:

Let us begin our gift giving with buying the art work of Philip Brooker. Why? I love how his work is grounded in story and yet some how transcends words with its provocative nature and beauty. I also believe he will be a household name in a year–think of it as a very good investment. You can see his illustrations at www.anicecupoft.com, and be sure to watch the little movie he made starring them.

Doesn’t this photo Barry Lewis took of him just make you smile?

If you can stay seated and listen to TTC’s “Travailler Orgasmic Mix” you must be paralyzed! I am not sure I would have a clue what they are talking about even if my French was better, but DAMN I love this song!

Speaking of things to just out and out love…

I have a major girl crush on Tina Fey. Did you catch this?

Don’t be a hater–I still love me some Obama–but Tina is the SHIT!

I so lust for this bike:

Strong enough for a boy, but made for an ass kickin MTB WOMAN!

Check out hi+lomodern A VINTAGE MODERN DESIGN STORE for some amazing 20th Century artifacts. I love Vera napkins and am always tearing through garage sales and thrift stores looking for them. This poster they have of her work exemplifies the simplicity, bold use of color, and strong lines she is known for:

This ring rocks too:

I cannot tell you how many people have commented when I wore these earrings from Lord & Taylor:

(I gave my pair to a special friend–so Mom…looking for a cool gift for me?)

I love beautiful stationary, and my home town of Coral Gables is sporting one fab store to fall in-love with–Paper and Concept. They have modern, clean stationary, with totally funky touches. I am not one for too much frill or flowers, so I embrace the simplicity of what they selected. I bought these amazing stock fold-over cards and made my own custom seals. I have a yellow fetish at the moment, and the yellow seal I did is so cool I do not want to put it in the mail! If you get it, it is only because I trust your sense of style and know you will appreciate getting it from me! You have to go in person to have the Paper and Concept experience, but their site does give you some of the flavour.

And of course my old standby favourite neighbourhood bookshop–Books and Books.

This is a great place to buy some of my favourite books of all time:

A Wrinkle In Time

Bel Canto

The Time Traveler’s Wife

Here If You Need Me

Honey I Love

Blessing the Boats

And what Reverse Day would be complete without some classic music?

From the Beatles:

And from Queen:

What components make up a “real man?” I hear men talking about not being a “pussy”–i.e. not being a woman–and illuminating the characteristics of being real. These contests often rely more on brawn than the strength of character. You took the dive off the cliff into the ocean’s cool waters. Can you be man enough to leap into a woman’s warm embrace and find solace there? You made the deal of a lifetime. Will you follow-through? You are a good person. Will you live by your word even when it is hard and difficult? Your body can lift the weight of another off the ground. Can you trust another person with your underbelly and know they will not sucker punch you when you are as vulnerable as Atlas?*

I do not think it is easy to be a real man in this unreal world. The weight of the world is firmly placed on men’s shoulders. They bear the burden of protection–physical and financial–from those men and women who utilize their power and brutality to harm the rest of us. Having integrity in the face of a rat race where lying and cheating are expectations, not exceptions, cannot be easy. Working unreal hours must make some men long for the days without electricity, where they were forced to draw up to the fire like Pa Ingalls by seven most nights. How many men do I know who have trouble sleeping? So much to do and so little time. Too much pressure all around to do, to be, to accomplish, to achieve, to surpass. No wonder many of them approach women in much the same manner they would a business deal. What is in it for me?

The so-called Men’s Movement attempts to move men towards a more egalitarian understanding of their gender role in life, while also addressing the often forgotten needs of fathers, the mythology of masculinity, and a reclaiming of it, amongst others. The Promise Keepers charge their followers to adhere to a moral Christian code within the confines of a narrow theology based on misogyny and a broken patriarchy. The gift within the Promise Keepers ideology is its focus on men keeping their word to the women in their lives and calling them to submission to God’s authority over their own self interests. The problem–as is often the case–is whose version of God’s authority wins? The God who smites those he hates? The God who kills the first born children of the enemy? The God who affirms women being seen as chattel? The God who commands colicky babies be smashed against a wall? Or instead will it be the God willing to hang on a tree like so many who are persecuted for their beliefs? Will it be the God of the poor and ill? Will it be the God who calls a woman to lead and not just serve? Will it be the God of Love for all persons, or just the God of persons not unlike themselves?

I see so many men who suffer in this world of flux and responsibility as they seek to rise above the patterns of destruction and disenfranchisement. I cheer them on towards the prize of a life of meaning! I also am cheering one of them on towards finding me, for I know I have the gifts, gumption and giving nature to make a real partnership with someone work. I do not aspire to sucker punch the man of my heart like so many women seem to be doing these days–I know, I keep dating their ex’s. I am so very tired of hearing story after story from men about the inhuman ways women treat them out of spite. Women need to celebrate the beauty and the strength of the men in their lives, and stop with the gender assassination every-time “he” does not do what “she” wants. For myself, I consciously work on never saying “MEN!” in response to some bad thing a particular male person did. I also correct my friends on this point, and name all the singular men of integrity I know–all of whom have an uncommon grace, but are not as rare as some might think.

I, myself, am looking for a man of uncommon grace. After recently finishing Kate Braestrup’s book Here If You Need Me, I felt inspired to articulate ten core qualities he will need to possess. Kate is an Unitarian Universalist minister serving as a Chaplain to the Game Wardens of Maine, and her book speaks of so much of what I find to be meaningful about walking beside people in ordinary and extraordinary ways as a Chaplain. She did not set out on that path, only finding it her calling after her husband died. Towards the end of the book, she writes an amazing passage about a conversation she and her four children have casually one day where they describe what the next man in their lives will be like, having been left hurt and disillusioned by the last. Simple words written by a child’s pencil end up on their fridge, and in time a man fitting those descriptors and so much more comes into all of their lives.

Here are the ten I put on my refrigerator:

1. Funny
2. Integrity
3. Smart
4. No children (or ex-wife)
5. Wants children
6. Willing to go to church
7. Kind hearted
8. Left
9. Serves
10. Active

There are some things, however, I “wish” for but did not make my top ten. Some of them include: rides a bike, reads books, loves dogs, never wears tank tops (click here to find out why), and has a purpose. I think being heterosexual falls into the “goes without saying” category! My friends, The Boys, were quick to point out that they would make the cut on my wishes and needs lists, but alas given they are Gay, they would N.O.T! That is the funny thing about lists, they are just starting off places. I am not looking for anything in anyone I do not have to offer, and I am more than mere words on a page. He must be too.

As I look over the list, I find myself surprised that Plant Geek was really the one person I dated who fit these the very best. And The Bean? He turned out to be 60% Guy. No thank you. I want my 100% Man, with all the surprises of what else makes him unique and special meted out along the way. This is what will make him real to me in the end–the aspects I cannot define but will cherish through the joy of knowing him. And in the meantime, I continue to focus on the joy of being me in the world and on the places I need to grow and change. I have a”little life left in me yet.”

Pray God you can cope.
I stand outside this woman’s work,
This woman’s world.
Ooh, it’s hard on the man,
Now his part is over.
Now starts the craft of the father.

I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.

I should be crying, but I just can’t let it show.
I should be hoping, but I can’t stop thinking

Of all the things I should’ve said,
That I never said.
All the things we should’ve done,
Though we never did.
All the things I should’ve given,
But I didn’t.

Oh, darling, make it go,
Make it go away.

Give me these moments back.
Give them back to me.
Give me that little kiss.
Give me your hand.**

*”Farnese Atlas” Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli, Naples, Italy

The image and idea of the tenderness of men–like Atlas–comes from Norah Vincent’s amazing book Self Made Man.

** From Kate Bush’s “This Woman’s Work.”

I wrote the following prayer for “Seminarian Sunday” at my home congregation,

Coral Gables Congregational Church.

Today we come together to not only draw closer to the Source of Love—God—but also to one another. Inspired by this love, some of us have made the journey from the pew to the pulpit. For me, it was one of the hardest and loneliest journeys I ever made; it was also one of the most significant, beautiful and amazing journeys. I can remember being on this very chancel surrounded by more love than I had ever experienced in my whole life–many of you were there. Isn’t it amazing how life is like that? The bitter makes the sweet all that much more meaningful and rich.

Maybe you too have been on a journey like this—from student to teacher, from child to parent, from employee to employer, from caretaker to the one cared for, from married to single or single to married, from healthy to ill, or experienced the renewal of your body following an illness. All of us move from moth to butterfly. The ebb and flow of life continually has us in its grip, smoothing out our rough edges, sloughing away our dirt and grime, shaping us. So, as we pray today, let us pray for all of those on the lonely road of transition and transformation.

Loving God, you know us by heart. You know when we rise and when we fall. From far away you see our hearts and tenderly cradle us in your arms of comfort and rest. Even when we long for touch, connection, and love—we are not alone. You are with us. Hear our prayer.

We pray for all those who hear you asking, “Whom shall I send?” Help us to bravely venture forward and say, “Here I am Lord, send me.” May we hear you whispering in our ears to love your children more fully today.

We pray for all those who sacrifice the prestige, wealth and comfort they see their peers obtain in order to humble themselves before the hurting world. Be with them and all who sacrifice their comfort for your good.

We pray for those who fear paying their bills, feeding their family, getting the car fixed, or losing their home. You have given us enough resources and the creativity to take care of one another—help us to let go of our greed so everyone has what they need.

We pray for those who feel isolated and alone as they struggle to transform their body, their mind, their heart, their spirit. Change is never easy, but it is always constant in our lives. Change hurts, and pain is so isolating—even from you dear God. May your hand place a healing balm in our lives and may we feel carried by those who love us.

We pray for those facing a spiritual crisis today, trying to sort out the facts from the mythology, the truth from the minutia, the hope from the despair. May your cloud by day and fire by night illuminate our path and help us come to a place of imagination in what is possible and acceptance in the beauty of the questions.

We pray for those who are looking today for the face of God—waiting expectantly for just one person to listen, care, be tender, forgive, understand or hold. May we be your face of unconditional love in the world.

We pray for transformation, sweet Jesus. We pray to be made new. Come and see the deepest part of our hearts, and revive us so we might be strengthened to love again today. Hear our prayer.

Amen.

I love my niece Morgan. She is smart, wicked funny, hard working, kind and helpful. She is also a smart ass and quite possibly the world’s worst driver. Ever since she realized she could get her Driving Permit at fifteen, she begged to drive. Of course this meant that by the time fifteen rolled around, dear Morgan was sure she already knew everything there was to know about driving, and she graduated herself a world class driver. Unfortunately, this is really only true if there are no other cars, humans, animals, traffic signals, speed limits, or state governments. She has been driving for almost four years, but spent a good six months of that with a suspended license courtesy of the State of Georgia. A friend’s head in the windshield of the Suburban she totaled…moving violations untold…accidents, bumpings and scratchings of other vehicles, and girfriend has yet to get a clue.

Now her need to reform her driving skills with intention is a topic for another day. Today’s topic is her current cockamamie scheme to get a new car. Morgan has an alcoholic truck to haul her horse around, but the car she was driving committed suicide on a mountain road. (Maybe it thought it should just give up before she plowed it into someone or something and it died a wretched mangled death?) Her parents found a reasonably priced used Jetta and began to investigate the soundness of the engine. When Sista told this to Morgan she said, “Well Mom, that sounds good, but I was thinking about getting a new Scion.” (Huh?) “The car costs only eighteen thousand dollars, and I found this really great loan where I can just pay the interest for ten years, and then start on the principle. The only catch is that I need you to co-sign.”

There really is nothing quite like paying down an eighteen thousand dollar loan on a ten year-old car!

I just about fell apart laughing til I pooted and cried when Sista told me this story.  Never fear I am laughing with my dear sweet Morgan! I know better than to laugh at her–I used to BE HER! The only difference to my cockamamie schemes were that they always contained an altruistic spin. If I had proposed this to Miss Audrey, I would have put it this way: “Mom, let’s borrow twenty thousand dollars–eighteen for the car and then I can give the other two thousand to charity!”

Let me give you a real example from the annals of my own childhood of my altruistic scheming: I once convinced my Cousin Bopper that we needed to stay up after our bedtime at our Grandmother’s house and then proceed to make Tollhouse Chocolate Cookies as a “surprise” for our family. You know, there is nothing quite like the early morning surprise of a freshly baked cookie. I could see my mother, aunts and Grandmother awaken at seven in the morning. They would pad out to the kitchen to begin making a breakfast of eggs, grits and sausage. And then it would hit them! They would want a chocolate chip cookie! But dear God there were none at my Grandmother’s house!  What horror and longing they would experience!  Someone had to come to their rescue, so I devised a plan to ensure their deepest desire and NEED would be met. (I am kind like that.)  Cousin Bopper and I would make the cookies! Oh the joy they would experience in the morning because of our willing sacrifice!

The plan was simple: We would stay awake until everyone went to sleep. We would get up and make the cookies. Of course our Grandmother’s home was not that big, and the sound of the beaters might wake up our family and ruin the surprise. The only solution to this problem was to make the cookies in my Grandmother’s single car garage--right on the hood of her white Fleetwood Cadillac!

Maybe we did not get in too much trouble when my Aunt Gail (Bopper’s Mama) found us in the garage because cockamamie schemes are a family tradition. Our mothers are just two of eight, so when family stories include thrown rotten tomatoes, diarrhea in the foyer of a neigbouring apartment building, and exploding cans of tar “someone” threw on a fire, they tend not too be too upset about making cookies on a Fleetwood.

Either that, or they too really wanted a Tollhouse with their morning coffee!

So here’s to Morgan and all the other women of my family who have yet to see a problem and not creatively come up with a cockamamie scheme and solution!

Over dinner Miss Audrey asked a friend how often she and I spoke. She replied, “About once a month.” We used to talk everyday, but this last year put a great deal of space between us. So much so, when she asked me before Christmas about my year and I told her I thought 2007 “was one of the most horrible on record,” she balked. She could not comprehend my truth because I spent much of the year hiding it from her. At dinner she commented, “But when I talked to you, you sounded so positive.”

I turned to her and said, “I lied.”

I keep pondering what really happened between us. Here is the email I sent her about it all:

I was talking to my God Mother today after church. I stopped by her house, and we spoke of some of my thinking about this last year. I told her about my mom’s question, and about what I said to you about feeling like I was “lying.” I guess I would take that back now and put it this way instead:

It is not that in any individual encounter with my friends I would lie, I just would avoid everyone like the plague when I did not want to have to tell the truth about how that particular day was awful. So, if you feel like we only talked once a month or so, then maybe that will give you an idea just how often I was pulled way back in my own hurting world.

I am not there now, but I am different than I used to be. I am less hopeful and optimistic. I am more guarded too. I also really value those I love and cherish the places of laughter that never went away this last awful year. I cherish too the depths my writing opened up for me, and my own tenacity to dig out of the well of grief I almost drowned in for a time. I also am proud to have done a good job with Emma, and so happy to live in my own home again. Blessings in the middle of the darkness that was 2007.

Please forgive me for pulling back, but at the time I really did not know what to do. Only a few came looking for me in that time, which I deeply cherish because it can be hard to see past the masks we all wear. I also feel I came away knowing how better to speak to Sista–especially–and God Mother, my mom, etc. when the shit hits the fan. I needed that lesson.

Sometimes you are hard to talk to–at least for me. You want me to not hurt, and I know you said that after The Bean left–to me and to Paparazzo. But life is hurtful sometimes. Sometimes it really does break your heart. I know the biggest reasons to hide my true heart from you stem from this sense of protection. I protect myself from you protecting me. I also feel like when I don’t just “push it aside with the sweep of the hand,” you are disappointed in me. I guess I just chose to show you what I thought would keep you from being worried. Unfortunately, that is no way to be genuine friends. The worst part of all is that I feel like there grew all this space between us–a space that already exists because of your relationship with your boyfriend, whom I do not know after two years even, and just how busy you are–but I do not want it to keep growing. This is why I am telling you all of this and coming clean about my part in it.

This last year even as things have been good with your boyfriend, the threat of him moving away loomed. Whenever we talked about it, you just spun the positive–”If he leaves, I will be fine–eventually.” I find that hard to believe because I think you would have been devastated if he left. And it also makes it hard to talk to you because everything is spun to not really matter–take it or leave it.

The truth is I know you. I know you have one of the most tender and gentle hearts of anyone. I know you love me deeply, which is why you want so desperately to protect me–even from myself. I, however, still would rather risk and lose than not try. I spent my twenties digging out from fear. I cannot afford to be paralyzed by it again, nor do I want to hide it from you when it is so big I feel it might overwhelm me. Maybe you do not want to be that close…you will have to let me know. I for one cherish you in my life and do not want to lose you–gradually or all at once.

And that brings me to another reason I know the “everything is good” is just bullshit. The Hurricane (our mutual friend who died very suddenly and tragically at the end of 2007). I know you miss him and are rocked to the core that he died. Life is so fragile and his death is just another reminder.

So, please forgive me and free me from needing to hide away being hurt from you to protect things. Please be close to me again. I love you.