Heaven on Earth

It's Pride Season.

Yawn.

I've caught all sorts of strange looks, comments, and hell this month when I said I'd rather attend a combine demolition derby in Lind, Washington than Spokane's or Seattle's or Portland's contribution to the phenomenon of pride.

Then it was inferred that as if by not attending I was a traitor or something. One person told me that if a "normal guy like me doesn't attend" than what hope do gays have to gain further acceptance?

No guilt there.

I finally responded that our future is based more on daily interaction than one big drunken annual parade.

And that for the record, I know plenty of people who would be the last to label me as anything close to their definition of "normal".

Normal, just like everything else, is in the eye of the beholder.

In my case, not attending Pride is not about self hatred or about being stuck living all Brokeback Mountain scaredy cat in the closet or trying to be terminally unique just for the sake of ultimate diversity. Aquarius's live to swim upstream against the flow, but it's not about that either. When I need to swim upstream against the current, I do it.

I'd probably drown in the process, but that's another story.

My lack of interest in Pride falls into the reality that on the few occasions, usually about once a decade, when I have ventured near a pride parade, I haven't felt all that good about the experience.

There I said it and Oh God, now I am for sure going to gay hell. Not that I am the first to say Pride sucks, but I know I've just committed the ultimate unforgivable lavender sin-not feeling proud about gay pride. There goes my Bud Light endorsement.

The depth of this brotherhood of in-common commonality has to extend far beyond a parade day. Religious intolerance and discrimination still gets under my skin, but so does the phrase "honor diversity".

I don't see the need to honor everything under the sun. I don't honor terrorism. I don't honor greed. I don't honor honor killings. I don't honor dishonesty. I don't honor neo cons or communists. And I really have no room in my heart to appreciate all the cultures that slaughter human dignity, freedom and creativity on a regular basis. I certainly don't want to get into the trap of honoring every human behavior, "even if it doesn't hurt anyone else" or march to support activities that someone, somewhere once defined as consensual. Meth houses are definitely consensual and users claim they aren't harming anyone else as they tweak their brains into no man's land...you get the point.

To me "Pride" is about living day in and day out, honestly just where you are. Sexual orientation is not a quality that makes one person better or worse, more gifted or understanding, more fabulous and sensual than anyone else. Sexual orientation is just one of the millions of different ways that humans are created by God to witness the miracle of existence.

And I choose to witness that magic right here, looking at a big red barn, out in the middle of nowhere. Accompanied by the wind, the ospreys, and the nearing of the summer solstice.

Sounds a bit arrogant and prideful, don't ya think?

L to R Brittany, Jeanette, Paula, and moi...

Jeanette's Big Adventure...

From Timbo:

A few weeks ago Jeanette and I were talking about the journey we've experienced together-and sadly sometimes apart. How many people are blessed to have a friend that accompanies them throughout much of their adult life?

This is, via Jeanette's writing, the result of that conversation. But first a bit of background-just to make the story complete.

I met Jeanette in 1983-both of us were hopelessly overwhelmed with the change that leaving home and attending Bible College represented. I wasn't all that happy about my sexual orientation-and I hoped that maybe if I gave the good Lord a few of the best years of my life that a miracle would happen and that I'd find a cul de sac, 2.5 kids, and a wife named Misty or Marissa or Marsha would be the reward.

That so did not happen.

Jeanette really wasn't out back then, and in that first awkward period of getting to know one another I'm not sure we ever really talked about "it"-that whole being damned to hell bit. But we did bond in a way that lead to all sorts of interesting conversations with the dean and the student life committee. Following Jeanettes example I learned how to climb waters towers, drive a "stick", and get a 4x4 perched on one wheel. I learned about fear and courage and unconditional friendship and love. That I learned these things from a lesbian is probably not the largest demonstration of grace but its sure up there.

Anyway, during those early four years of our friendship, the two of us grew pretty close. Eventually I did learn of Jeanettes love of the Indigo Girls, Melissa Etheridge and K D Lang. Jeanette learned that common sense needed to be a necessary part of our interaction, and that it was up to her to supply it.

Since 1983 we've been through, together and apart, the following life changing experiences:

We've lived together twice.
We've been in a big rig together several times.
We've both been through truck driving school. Once.
We've both been homeless-but in different forms and for different reasons.
We've been ripped off, betrayed, lied to, and we've been blessed, loved, and seen more second chances than any person deserves.

So without further wordiness, her's Jeanette's story of just how fabulous the journey's been. Give it a read. It's well worth the time.


Every once in a while, when you least expect it, an event occurs that shakes you up and blasts you back in time; the unexpected connections to your past that humble the hell out of you and leave you reflecting for days about where you have been and who you have become.

I recently had one of those experiences.

When I first met my friend Kathy’s partner Sharon, there was this feeling that we had met before. We tossed around a few names but could not make the connection. A few weeks ago we were having dinner and started exchanging gay bar stories. I brought up a Seattle tavern I used to be a regular fixture in. Sharon’s face lit up as she recalled hanging out there. She searched her memory for a name; then blurted it out,” Kelly____ taught me how to dance.”

We finally figured out the familiarity factor. Kelly was my first disastrous attempt to live with a girlfriend, and the beginning of a decade of drama.

Prior to Kelly, I had a few “undefined” relationships. I had friends with benefits, before that was a vogue term; friendships that faded as fast as they flourished. Gone once the heart teetered on the brink of falling or the sex got old. Humpty-dumpty, literally!

There is an old joke about what a lesbian brings on a second date: A u-haul and her cat. Kelly did not have a cat, but we did go from dancing partners to attempted life partners at lightening speed.

Our first break up came when Kelly’s ex could no longer live without her. Feeling devastated, I got my first tattoo-something that would not go away. And destroyed everything Kelly had given to me-Violently.

Then came the sneaking around part of our relationship; Running in to Kelly she confessed that it was a passionless coexistence with the one she left me for. We would park her car a few miles from where I lived and well…need I say more.

Kelly’s visits became more frequent. She wanted to make the break and just be with me. Her ex had moved into the room she rented so going home was not an option for her. She moved in with me and my two roommates, Tim and Dallas.

During that time Kelly spent a week out on the road running the I-5 corridor with Tim and Dallas. I have no idea what happened out there on the asphalt trail. Tim just recalls Dallas forbidding any more lesbians on the trucks. I just knew the tension in the house was thick.

Tim and Dallas moved to Spokane shortly after that and Tim and I did not speak for about four years. It wasn’t until Dallas left that we could really pick up where we left off.

With Tim and Dallas out of the house, it seemed that I could not do anything right in Kelly’s eyes. I felt constantly criticized. I received negative feedback on everything from the way I drove to not wanting to go out every night after work. I encouraged Kelly to go out dancing without me. I did not want her to feel stuck at home all the time just because I was under pressure at work and too tired. Plus selfishly, it gave me a few hours alone, with no boss breathing down my neck and freedom from feeling like a total looser.

My 30th birthday came and went. Kelly went to great lengths to make the day special. When her birthday rolled around I wanted to make sure it was equally good for her. I kept asking Kelly what she wanted to do. She insisted she wanted nothing, adding that she liked making other peoples birthdays special but hated a fuss over hers. I believed her and kept it quiet. You already know where this is going don’t you?

The relationship picked up its speed in its snowball’s journey towards hell.

Things ended, but Kelly continued to live with me. The stress was compounded by the darkness of winter, a sociopath for a supervisor at work (seriously, not just a case of my boss is a jerk, but some seriously twisted events that eventually lead to a law suit). And my best friend Tim had moved on, 300 miles away, under strained circumstances that really had nothing to do with either of us. The grief of that loss was heavy.

I reached a breaking point and had to be hospitalized for a week. Kelly resented having to come to a session at the hospital about managing stress at home before I could be released. She felt ganged up on. I came home to find my bank account drained. We had a huge fight, in which Kelly claimed the breaking point in our relationship, was her birthday and the fact I did not throw her a party. I was selfish and could not take care of myself.


Enter Tracy, An old acquaintance who came back to town. Tracy was not connected to any of the friends I shared with Kelly. I began spending time with her. She was crashing at a drug house in a public housing development. Ironically it was owned by the company I worked for. This presented a huge conflict of interest for me. I could not take the chance of being recognized on site after hours, let alone the ramification of the drugs. So Tracy began crashing at my place, where Kelly remained a roommate.

Tracy told me that she had an inoperable brain tumor. She did not want anyone to know about it, and she only had about a year left to live. She began having these seizures that kept me up all night taking care of her. It was terrifying.

The final roommate straw with Kelly came when I opened a phone bill to find Kelly had run up several hundred dollars of long distance charges. I did not think she would be able to pay for these calls and so I took a trip to the hardware store and changed the locks. I let her back in under the condition that she get her things together and get out. Days later she showed up with a bunch of my friends to help her move out.

Now relationships with friends I had known for years were strained. I withdrew completely to take care of Tracy and her secret tumor.

Tracy’s seizures seemed to get worse. Her mother visited from out of state. During that visit the seizures tapered off and were not as bad. Her mother wanted to move out here and I thought as Tracy’s cancer progressed she would need her mother. So, in moved her mom. For the first few months the stress was incredible. I was after all, harboring a fugitive. Tracy’s mother had been convicted of manslaughter. When she was released from prison she violated her parole in moving out of state. She lived out of state for a long time without as much as a parking violation. But it took a long time to convince her to see a lawyer and get things cleared up.

The seizures stopped. But then Tracy began not coming home at night. She would call me from another woman’s home saying that she’d had a seizure there. The light went on in my head: There was no tumor! I’d been played big time! Facing the renewal of a lease, I moved out. Kelly was right- I could not take care of myself!

In trying to prove her wrong, I had taken care of everyone else.

I spent the next few years single and just dating occasionally. No living with anyone. Financially I finally began to recover from the care taking I’d done for others. But old patterns are hard to break. Along came Debbie and her 3 children. For the next four years it was more of the same, drama and caretaking.

Over the course of my four year relationship with Debbie, we lived in 6 different houses in three different states; There was a teenaged pregnancy; my day in court with the company I worked for; pissing away the sizable settlement I got, trying to buy someone else’s happiness; Debbie fraudulently obtaining credit in her mother’s name to the tune of about 10k; Debbie re-uniting with her ex in California while she was supposed to be visiting her sick mother in the hospital.

I made my way back to the Pacific Northwest despondent. I had no income and was homeless. I crashed on my brother’s floor. Taking odd jobs to cover life’s basic costs, I even attempted on more reconciliation attempt with Debbie, but in the end it was over and I was actually very happy to be alone.

This time, I was stripped of everything.

Read this part very slowly. This was the greatest blessing of all.

I had family that could be a foundation, but beyond that I had only myself. Not having a real job, I did not have the luxury of self pity. I had to get out there and make some things happen.

I started a small business that supported me for the next few years, and ultimately lead to the current position I hold.

Being self employed I had a lot of freedom to take the time I needed to deal with all the emotional garbage I had carried most of my life. I took a good long look at the roll I had played in my failed relationships. Not that any of these women were intrinsically bad, but my involvement with them did constitute bad decisions on my part. Only when I took responsibility for not feeling that I deserved anything better, could the real healing begin.

I found myself living in an apartment complex full of single women; all of us in the process of healing in one way or another. The summer of 2002 was an incredible one. As the days warmed we all began sitting out at night. We often ate together and had impromptu porch parties. We would sit out sometimes until 2 or 3 am talking, laughing, singing and crying.

Several of my neighbors were body and energy workers-massage therapist and rakki practitioners. They talked me into having some body work done. It never occurred to me that after all I had been through psychologically and emotionally, I had also been through quite a bit physically.

The body and energy work also inspired within me huge changes in my view of the world. I was suddenly able to see the positive side of all things. I no longer worried about the things I lost or didn’t have. To the core of my being, I became grateful for the things I did have. It seemed that the more I was thankful, the more good things came my way.

When something did not go as I planed, I no longer felt like it was the end of the world. Instead I felt thankful that something better would soon present itself. If I lost a client, or did not win a bid, I did not worry. Quite the opposite; I would say a quiet “thank you” to that unseen power taking care of me. Because I knew something better was on the horizon.

I learned to not sweat the small stuff….and it’s all small stuff!

Becoming ready to date again, I envisioned a clear picture of the type of relationship I wanted. When women who did not fit the bill came along, I moved on. Paula appeared on the radar and it was a very slow process. For the first 7 months we only corresponded and talked on the phone a few times.

I asked her out.

But she turned me down.

Yet, we continued to talk. Neither of us is sure what caused the change, but she finally consented to a date. I do know that somewhere along the way I had the conscience thought that I was ready to allow someone like her in my life. –that I deserved it.

We dated for a year before we moved in together. In short, we really got to know each other and what to expect in a domestic situation. There were no negative surprises.

Some might say that I spoil the heck out of Paula because I still tend to take care of things. I am the goddess of all things domestic in our home. I cook because I discovered along the way that I love doing it. I clean because I am an anal retentive Virgo. I unwind by piddling in the yard. Both Paula and I contribute proportionately to the house hold account, but I sit down and do the budgeting and bill paying. Again an anal Virgo thing, but Paula hates doing it.

I contend that it is Paula that spoils me. She puts up with my crude and sometimes juvenile since of humor. She loves me in spite of my obsessions. Half our garage looks like the sportswoman’s warehouse. She has no problem with me heading off to Alaska or some other remote destination with other women equally obsessed with the pursuit of “troutzilla”. She entered a relationship with me knowing that she wasn’t going to change me; more importantly, she did not want to.

Being loved for who I am? That’s spoiled! So in turn, Paula deserves all the pampering she gets from me.

We lead a settled life now. Given the lives I have lived, some might even call it boring. I have been given the gifts of a healthy and stable relationship, the security of home ownership and the freedom to be myself.

Still, of the many great gifts I have been given, it was the loss of everything that was the greatest. For in loosing everything, I gained a world of happiness.

Catching That Bloggin Bug

Lately I've been sorta busy. Riding herd on family, friends, and the future. So when I've been able I've gotten my butt into the Mc Donalds in Newport which is the only place that seems to have WI FI in this territory and that allows me to blog my version of "Blog through this-the hit and miss times of a long shot writer in a short hand world. Or something like that. Anyway, sorry for the long silences, but hopefully things will become a bit more regular soon.

My sister and her husband were in town recently. We had a blast. Enjoy what is to follow. I promise to try to catch up on all the email this weekend.

How the West Was Un Done. And then Some...

Once upon a time, in a lonely saloon near the old High Mountain Ranch, a few folks not on vacation, and not having the worst time of their lives reliving fears of wooden roller coasters at place not yet dreamed about named Silverwood and not looking for stolen horses or some stupid Cedars in Montana, decided to pretend they were celebratin' a fun filled Thanksgiving Family Reunion.

The holiday meal consisted of only the finest vices. The type of vices that preachers kids have usually discovered long before puberty. Gambling, Beer, Moonshine, and Jack Daniels.

It was a joy, joy, joy time in their lives. For after years of seperation, incarceration and boring sermons, they were finally together again.

Really.

Think Happy. Happy. Happy.

As in She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain When She Comes Happy.

Of course nothing in our lives ever stays boring for long. Even though it was Thanksgiving, and even though the girls were only helping Tracy cheat a little, Kevin stood up and got all tough like, threatening to bring in the sheriff if things didn't go his way.

'Course, we didn't seem to be able to find a badge in that territory so the ladies came up with their own plan...which as most plans goes with many of the ladies I know, was not so fun for the men folk.

Them girls were havin none of the boys being disrespectful. Pulling out the reserves, they helped us see the error of our ways. No cussin. No fightin. No complainin 'bout the quality of the beer. No playing nasty songs on the piano.

And no cheatin unless they were gonna benefit.

This was so not going to be the fourth season of Deadwood.

And then they done shot the guy holding the camera.

The End.

Staring left to right:

"Cocked But Not Loaded" -The Boy Friend From Tucson-Kevin

"Solder of Misfortune"- Can't See His Sword From a Hole in the Ground- Timbo

"Five Going on Twenty Five"- Calamity Kelcy-Playing herself.

"If Looks Could Kill-And They Have"-The Wife. The Sister. The Sister in Law. Sort of. -Kelli.

"Lord of the Long Barrel and Longer Draw"-The Gambler with all the Right Moves. Brother in Law-Husband-Father. -Tracy

Leaving the Lights on for her...

It wasn't Motel 6, but Tom would still be proud. I think seeing the world through a kid's eyes could sure solve a lot of problems.

Each Hot Wheel was put to bed one by one. The dolls sure didn't get that treatment. Mom wasn't too happy with the new additions to Kelcy's collection, but I am a firm believer that you can never have too many Hot Wheels. Ever.

Cowgirl Up!

One of the cool things about going on vacation is you get to try new things. Forget about city slicker Barbie. Kelcy is into the real McCoy-such as a four horse slant load, a dually pick up and starched 20 X duds.

Cousin of the Groom

I performed another wedding last weekend.

It was my second opportunity to officiate over a ceremony and offer the service for one of my cousins. Congratulations to the bride Jennifer and her husband (and my totally cool cuz Jay).

We used the passage in Ephesians 1:11 where God assures us he has a plan for us. He knows our story. He knows some of us don't do so well in church, even though we claim Him as our saviour and redeemer.

Then we dove into a fishing theme to keep everyone's attention. Jay is big into fishin'. Lucky for him, so is Jenn.

Jenn's mom was a bit worried about the service before hand. Jay is a big rock and roll fan and, like me, doesn't make it to church all that often. Ditto that for Jenn. But with Jenn being from a strong catholic family and with many of Jenn's mom's relatives promising to attend, and they all being Colville Indians, the mother of the bride wanted to make sure that the service was religious.

Well, the Colvilles are a people who have spent thousands of years perfecting the art of fishing, mainly on the waters of the Columbia River and the lakes of the Kettle River Range. I think that's why so many of the members of our local tribes think Jesus is pretty cool. It's not just a white man's belief. It's an everyman belief. Catholic. Indian. Gay man. Or Rock and Roll star/fishing addict.

Jesus spent quite a bit of time himself casting lines. And he also spent a fair amount of time, standing in front of thousands. I guess that would make Him one of the first rock n roll stars.

Anyway, somehow the service went off without a hitch. Even my new adopted mom was happy.

Best of luck to Jay and Jenn.

Looking toward Ever After. Memorial Day 2007

It had been awhile since I went to the cemetery. Christmas of 2005 to be exact. Everything then was covered under a blanket of snow and the wind was cold. Not real conducive for a good melt down. Kevin and I laid down our poinsettia's and stood against the season as long as we could.

Which wasn't all that long. Neither grief or winter is for wusses.

I don't know why but this year I just had to go when Memorial Day rolled around. I remembered the trips I once took with my grandmother Billie to tend to these headstones and pay our respects. Even though we knew that eternity is the real residence of all those whom we loved that rest there, we talked to them as if they could hear us.

And I believed then (and now) that they could.

Now Billie has joined them and it still doesn't seem real.

I know my grandfather Orin and Great Uncle Ed would have been inspired by all the flags flying in the breeze, they being honored veterans and all. The music of the flapping of each old glory was true and in tune with all that is right and good about the hero's among us who rest here. That generation is mostly gone now, but the way they touched my life, taught me of the world, and stood up for me as I was coming out, well I am lucky. Their bravery remains as my inspiration.

I wish Kevin could have known them.

Even as I know that they already know him.

Gone But Not Forgotten

I never really quit missing them. It's difficult to put into words the amount of influence these four people had on my life. And that they still have. The Lopemans were my grand parents. The Jeanes were my great aunt and uncle.

It's a DONE Deal...

I'm so excited for the family who is the recipient of this years Habitat for Humanity Home. At times it seemed like it would never be finished, but here it is-a week before the grand open house. Wahoo!