I Loathe February: My Sister

I posted this originally on my sister’s birthday, about seven years after she passed; it was never lost on me that the two most important women in my life, my mother and my sister, had birthdays in the same week, albeit years apart, and died in the same week, albeit years apart.

But this is about my sister, my big sister. My very first best friend; I loved her from the moment I was born, and I imagine she'd say she loved me from that second, too, even if I was 'the new baby.'

My sister, my big sister. We were very different; she was gregarious and outgoing and had tons of friends and was always doing something. I was shy, petrifyingly so—my mom used to joke that I 0didn't start talking until I was eighteen—and I had just a handful of friends.

My sister, my big sister. She could be as stubborn as a mule, and had quite the temper, while I always tried to please, and be the nice one, and not draw attention to myself. We were as different as night and day, and as thick as thieves.

My fondest memory of her is the day she taught me, without knowing it, how to say I love you. You see, that day she had called to chat, and we talked about everything, from what we were doing to what the world was doing and then, as we were saying our goodbyes, she said, All right then, I love you.

And I said … Thanks.

Thanks? That was my response to my sister saying I love you? I mean, I guess I meant to say Thank you for loving me but that isn't really the correct response either, is it? So, as I tend to do, I sat there after that phone call and wondered why it was so hard for me to say those words, and I realized that I come, came, from a family that didn't really ever 'say' the words. We showed our love; we knew we were loved; I guess we all felt we just didn't have to 'say' it. 

Add to that the idea that I also thought, subconsciously, at least back then, that I didn't deserve to be loved because I was the 'different' one; the gay son. I mean, my parents knew I was gay, and they were fine with it; they loved me. But I’ve always wondered if they ever hoped that I wasn't; no matter how much you love your gay children, as a parent you realize their lives would be easier if they weren't gay. So, I felt loved, but at the same time, unworthy of being loved because I wasn't the 'expected’ son.

My sister, thankfully, thought differently and could say I love you so easily and simply, without force, that it made me realize that I was worth it. And I thank her for that. After that conversation, and after my introspection, I listened to what she was saying: we all knew we were loved but she wanted us to hear it. And that made a huge difference.

Now, I didn’t change overnight and turn into one of those people that say I love you at the drop of a hat; it took time. I think the first time I said it back to her I probably choked on the words a little bit, as though they were somehow foreign to me, but it got easier and more natural.

I always knew my sister loved me, and I always will know it, it’s just that she made me realize I was worth it, and I could say it, and hear it and mean it and be it. That's just one of the lessons my sister taught me.

My sister, my big sister. My hero.

Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing … cripes, I’ve been doing this sixteen years … and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank  You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a coworker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I ‘Pleased’ and ‘Thank you'd’ my way through the entire process and finally as the girl was leaving to finish my order, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails I slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that, too, but I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time and good food and drink; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that, but this year, with the exception of another awful day in February … my least favorite month.

One of those bad days is nearly two years past, the day Tuxedo left us, and it still hits me every single day; but I am thankful for the many years with the Greatest Cat Ever, and his little buddy MaxGoldberg, who left us in 2022, and for Ozzo, that wee black dog that used to tear across the back yard with a four-foot tree branch in his mouth begging to play fetch.

And that bad February day this year when my father passed away. I was lucky—is lucky the right word—to be sitting at his side when he passed, just like I had done when my mother died in 2007; I felt them leave, felt that love, and was thankful for having them in my life all those years, and since then.

My father was a tough man who may not have expressed love openly often—though his last words to me were “I love you.”—but he did so when it was important.

The day I came out to him, he said, “You’re my son and I love you.”

The day I move to Miami to start this life with Carlos, he said, “Be happy. I love you.”

The day Carlos and I got married, he said, “I love you both.’

I am thankful for the time and the years and the memories.

I am thankful for this link around the world that I have found with bloggers, where I find people very different from myself, and people very much like myself, and we all co-exist peacefully. I still miss the glorious Anne Marie and her love for F-bombs and disdain for ABBA, something we shared, and I am grateful for the bloggers who still blog and the words and opinions and jokes and Candy Shop photos they share.

As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Twenty-four years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for nine years … in South Carolina of all places. I am thankful for that every day and will fight to the death anyone who thinks our marriage can somehow be erased. Carlos and I are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what. No matter who sits on the Supreme Court.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for our friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye-bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for icy cold mornings and clear blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for Consuelo and Rosita because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane. I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him for a moment than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country; we are still facing division; we are still seeing our Black and Brown brothers and sisters killed by police, and self-entitled crybaby vigilantes; we are still seeing our trans brothers and sisters murdered; we still see hate; we are seeing hatred towards refugees fleeing their homeland to come to a country built by immigrants and slaves.

But I remain hopeful, hope filled, and thankful, that this country, most of this country, will once again stand against that hate and divisiveness; I am thankful that we will stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful. I am thankful that more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for being woke. Yes, I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks.

PS We are celebrating Thanksgiving tomorrow with chosen family members and friends and then I'm taking the weekend off. 

Have a thankful day and I'll see y'all on Monday.

Just Saying ... Not My Month

 We hate February in my family.

My mother passed away in February 17 2007.

My Aunt Pam passed away February 14, 2009.

My sister Jeri passed February 1,5 2014.

My father passed away February 1, 2024.

And while some of you may not count your pets as family, I do, and so ... Tuxedo passed away February 15, 2023.

February sucks.

I was home for a long weekend last week, and am back in Oregon for a few days and then will come home for a long stretch as probate does its thing. I don't know when I'll post anything other than gloomy stuff but I will be back with snark and politics and architecture and pop culture and fun as soon as I can.

Thanks!

Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing, and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year … for fifteen years … to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a co-worker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I ‘Pleased’ and ‘Thank you'd’ my way through the entire process and finally as the girl was leaving to finish my order, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails I slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that, too, but I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that, but this year, with the exception of one awful day in February, has been good. I am thankful that Carlos and I are fine; we have been pricked and boostered and can say that neither one of us has ever tested positive for COVID.

That one bad day: the day Tuxedo left us, and a day that hits me every single day since. But I am thankful for the many years with the Greatest Cat Ever, and his little buddy MaxGoldberg, who left us in 2022.

I am also grateful for the memories of a wee black dog tearing across the back yard with a four-foot tree branch in his mouth begging to play fetch; Ozzo was one of a kind.

I am thankful to this link around the world that I have found with bloggers, where I find people very different from myself, and people very much like myself, and we all co-exist peacefully. I am grateful to our dear Anne Marie and her love for F-bombs and disdain for ABBA, something we shared. I miss her wit and sarcasm and musical Saturdays, but I am thankful for having have them. I also miss her husband, ArTeeGee, who left us to join her. I am grateful for the bloggers who still blog and the words and opinions and jokes and Candy Shop photos they share.

And I am thankful, as well as hopeful, that even though America is still mired in hate and division, us versus them, and criminality, there are still spots of decency and inclusion and hope. I may be a bit of a Pollyanna but I am hopeful that things will change and we will keep our government from the hands of tyrants, racists, bigots and traitors. Sure, it’s still a bit dark here, but we are all becoming more aware that if we want to change we must make change and I am thankful that we live in a country where we have that freedom.

As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Twenty-three years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for nine years … in South Carolina of all places. I am thankful for that every day and will fight to the death anyone who thinks our marriage can somehow be erased. Carlos and I are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what. No matter who sits on the Supreme Court.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful for my Dad. He didn’t ask for a gay son, but he got one; he didn’t know what to do with a gay son, but he did the best he could. And, when the time came to marry Carlos, it made my Dad’s day that he could be there. I wish every gay person could have a Dad like mine, who sees that change is good, and sees that not everyone is alike—even in your own family—but who loves you just the same. I am thankful and grateful that he came through his surgery feeling good and strong and ready to rumble.

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for ourselves and friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for icy cold mornings and clear blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for Consuelo and Rosita because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane. I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him for a moment than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country; we are still facing division; we are still seeing our Black and Brown brothers and sisters killed by police, and self-entitled crybaby vigilantes; we are still seeing our trans brothers and sisters murdered; we still see hate; we are seeing hatred towards refugees fleeing their homeland to come to a country built by immigrants and slaves.

But I remain hopeful, hope filled, and thankful, that this country, most of this country, will once again stand against that hate and divisiveness; I am thankful that we will stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful. I am thankful that more and more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for being woke. Yes, I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks.

PS We are celebrating Thanksgiving tomorrow with chosen family members and friends and then I'm taking the weekend off. 

Have a a thankful day and I'll see y'all on Monday.

Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing, and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year … for fourteen years … to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a co-worker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I pleased and thank you'd my way through the entire process and finally as the girl was leaving to finish my order, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails I slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that, too, but I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that, but this year, following the pandemic, good health is a wonderful thing. I am thankful that Carlos and I are fine; we have been pricked and boostered; our families are healthy, well, except for my Thing 45 loving brother who called COVID a hoax, even after he and his whole family tested positive for it, but, again, I digress.

I am thankful to this link around the world I have found with bloggers, where I find people very different from myself, and people very much like myself, and we all co-exist peacefully. I am grateful to our dear Anne Marie and her love for F-bombs and disdain for ABBA, something we shared. I miss her wit and sarcasm and musical Saturdays, but I am thankful for having have them. I also miss her husband, ArTeeGee, who left to join her. I am grateful for the bloggers who still blog and the words and opinions and jokes and Candy Shop photos they share.

And I am thankful, as well as hopeful, that even though America is still mired in hate and division, us versus them, and criminality, there are still spots of decency and inclusion and hope, and that spot of light that appeared earlier this month. Sure, it’s still a bit dark here, but we are all becoming more aware that if we want to change we must make change. I am thankful that we live in a country where we have that freedom.

As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Twenty-two years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for eight years … in South Carolina of all places. I am thankful for that every day and will fight to the death anyone who thinks our marriage can somehow be erased. Carlos and I are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what. No matter who sits on the Supreme Court.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful for my Dad. He didn’t ask for a gay son, but he got one; he didn’t know what to do with a gay son, but he did the best he could. And, when the time came to marry Carlos, it made my Dad’s day that he could be there. I wish every gay person could have a Dad like mine, who sees that change is good, and sees that not everyone is alike—even in your own family—but who loves you just the same. I am thankful and grateful that he came through his surgery feeling good and strong and ready to rumble.

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for ourselves and friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for icy cold mornings and clear blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for small dogs and cats because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane. I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him for a moment than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country; we are still facing division; we are still seeing our Black and Brown brothers and sisters killed by police, and self-entitled crybaby vigilantes; we are still seeing our trans brothers and sisters murdered; we still see hate; we are seeing hatred towards refugees fleeing their homeland to come to a country built by immigrants and slaves.

But I remain hopeful, hope filled, and thankful, that this country, most of this country, will once again stand against that hate and divisiveness; I am thankful that we will stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful. I am thankful that more and more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks.

From Outta The Past

Mom and Dad on their wedding day … their second wedding day, June 18, 1955. They were first married in a civil ceremony on June 17, 1955, but then has a ‘real’ ceremony the next day; something to do with Dad being in the Air Force and stationed in a foreign country … or maybe it was so nice they did it twice.

Mom and Dad some forty years later. They were married 51 years until my mother passed away.

My sister Jeri and I looking thrilled at:

A] going to church; or …

B] those horrid outfits

C] going to church in those horrid outfits

A few years later, dressed  a bit more, um. ‘Christian’ for Easter Sunday.

And then this one, clearly it’s my brother’s birthday because as the gay one I’d be wearing the crown most days.

Lastly, Carlos and I on our first date … it was a long date. I travelled 3000 miles to meet him and then spent eleven days there. But, looking back, well worth it.

Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing, and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year, to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a co-worker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I pleased and thank you'd my way through the entire process and finally as the girl was leaving to finish my order, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that, too, but I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that, but this year, another year in the Age Of COVID, good health is a great thing. I am thankful that Carlos and I are fine; we have been pricked and are about to get boostered; our families are healthy, well, except for my Thing 45 loving brother who called COVID a hoax, even after he and his whole family tested positive for it.

I am thankful to this link around the world I have found with bloggers, where I find people very different from myself, and people very much like myself, and we all co-exist peacefully. I am grateful to our Anne Marie and her love for F-bombs and disdain for ABBA, something we shared. I miss her wit and sarcasm and musical Saturdays, but I am thankful for having have them.

I am thankful for having known my Tia Gloria; she’s just left us, but still holds court in our hearts and I am thankful for that.

And I am thankful, as well as hopeful, that even though America is still mired in hate and division, us versus them, and criminality, there are still spots of decency and inclusion and hope. Sure, it’s still a bit dark here, but we are all becoming more aware that if we want change we must make change. I am thankful that we live in a country where we have that freedom.

As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Twenty-one years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for seven years … in South Carolina of all places. I am thankful for that every day.

Sure, we’re still hearing the Hate Speech and hate-filled actions of some people, but one thing they can never do is take away my marriage; Carlos and I are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what. No matter who sits on the Supreme Court.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful for my Dad. He didn’t ask for a gay son, but he got one; he didn’t know what to do with a gay son, but he did the best he could. And, when the time came to marry Carlos, it made my Dad’s day that he could be there. I wish every gay person could have a Dad like mine, who sees that change is good, and sees that not everyone is alike—even in your own family—but who loves you just the same.

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for ourselves, and, in other years, friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for icy cold mornings and clear blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for small dogs and cats because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane. I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him for a moment than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country; we are still facing division; we are still seeing our Black and Brown brothers and sisters killed by police, and self-entitled crybaby vigilantes; we are still seeing our trans brothers and sisters murdered; we still see hate; we are seeing hatred towards refugees fleeing their homeland to come to a country built by immigrants and slaves.

But I remain hopeful, hope filled, and thankful, that this country, most of this country, will once again stand against that hate and divisiveness; I am thankful that we will stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful. I am thankful that more and more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks.

For My Sister ...On Her Birthday

Today is my sister Jeri’s birthday … it’s been almost seven years since she lost her battle with cancer.

SIDENOTE: It was never lost on me that the two most important women in my life, my mother and my sister, had birthdays in the same week, albeit years apart, and died in the same week, albeit years apart.

But this is about my sister, my big sister. My very first best friend; I loved her from the moment I was born, and I imagine she'd say she loved me from that second, too, even if I was 'the new baby.'

My sister, my big sister. We were very different; she was gregarious and outgoing and had tons of friends and was always doing something. I was shy, petrifyingly so — my mom used to joke that I didn't start talking until I was eighteen — and I had just a handful of friends.

My sister, my big sister. She could be as stubborn as a mule, and had quite the temper, while I always tried to please, and be the nice one, and not draw attention to myself. We were as different as night and day, and as thick as thieves.

My fondest memory of her is the day she taught me, without knowing it, how to say I love you. You see, that day she had called to chat, and we talked about everything, from what we were doing to what the world was doing and then, as we were saying our goodbyes, she said, All right then, I love you.

And I said, Thanks.

Thanks? That was my response to my sister saying I love you? I mean, I guess I meant to say Thank you for loving me but that isn't really the correct response either, is it? So, as I tend to do, I sat there after that phone call and wondered why it was so hard for me to say those words, and I realized that I come, came, from a family that didn't really ever 'say' the words. We showed our love; we knew we were loved; I guess we all felt we just didn't have to 'say' it. 

Add to that the idea that I also thought, subconsciously, at least back then, that I didn't deserve to be loved because I was the 'different' one; the gay son. I mean, my parents knew I was gay, and they were fine with it; they loved me. But I’ve always wondered if they ever hoped that I wasn't; no matter how much you love your gay children, as a parent you realize their lives would be easier if they weren't gay. So, I felt loved, but at the same time, unworthy of being loved because I wasn't the 'expected’ son.

My sister, thankfully, thought differently and could say I love you so easily and simply, without force, that it made me realize that I was worth it. And I thank her for that. After that conversation, and after my introspection, I listened to what she was saying: we all knew we were loved but she wanted us to hear it. And that made a huge difference.

Now, I didn’t change overnight and turn into one of those people that say I love you at the drop of a hat; it took time. I think the first time I said it back to her I probably choked on the words a little bit, as though they were somehow foreign to me, but it got easier and more natural.

I always knew my sister loved me, and I always will know it, it’s just that she made me realize I was worth it, and I could say it, and hear it and mean it and be it. That's just one of the lessons my sister taught me.

My sister, my big sister. My hero.

Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing, and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year, to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a co-worker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I pleased and thank you'd my way through the entire process and finally as the girl was leaving to finish my order, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that, too, but I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that, but this year, in the Age Of COVID, good health is a great thing. I am thankful that Carlos and I are fine; our families are healthy; our friends, and all of you fellow bloggers, are healthy. That’s worth a healthy dose of Thanks.

And I am thankful, as well as hopeful, that America is turning again, away from hate and division and criminality, toward decency and inclusion and hope. We are coming out of a dark time, though we’re not there yet, but I think we all learned earlier this month that exercising our right to vote means to do that every single time and be thankful that we live in a country where we have that freedom. And it feels like the pendulum is finally swinging back towards understanding and acceptance, and the hope that we had for a few years. I am thankful for that.

As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Twenty years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for five years … in South Carolina … and every state in this country.  I am still thankful for that. 

And let me be clear … even with the Hate Speech, and hateful actions, that we have been hearing, and seeing, for the last four years, they will never be able to take that away from us; we are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what. No matter who sits on the Supreme Court.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful for my Dad. He didn’t ask for a gay son, but he got one; he didn’t know what to do with a gay son, but he did the best he could. And, when the time came to marry Carlos, it made my Dad’s day that he could be there. I wish every gay person could have a Dad like mine, who sees that change is good, and sees that not everyone is alike—even in your own family—but who loves you just the same. I still get goosebumps when I hear my Dad tell people about his son and his husband. Who knew that would happen?

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for ourselves, and, in other years,  friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for icy cold mornings and clear blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for small dogs and cats because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane. I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him for a moment than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country; we are still facing division; we are still seeing our Black and Brown brothers and sisters killed by police; we are still seeing our trans brothers and sisters murdered; we still see hate; we are seeing hatred towards refugees fleeing their homeland to come to a country built by, immigrants and slaves.

But I remain hopeful, hope filled, and thankful, that this country, most of this country, will once again stand against that hate and divisiveness; I am thankful that we will stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful. I am thankful that more and more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks. 

Thank.Full.

I first posted a version of this back in Ott-Eight, a few days after I started this here blog thing, and have edited it, as need be, and reposted it every year, to remind me of where I was then, what I thought then, and what I wanted out of life. And every year as I repost it, I realize that the more things change the more they stay the same.

Now, not to brag, but I've been told that I am an extremely polite person. I was raised on Please and Thank You, Yes Ma'am, No Sir, and I still act that way today.

True story: I was selected for jury duty when we lived in Miami and when it was my turn to be questioned, I stood up in the very narrow aisle and put my hands behind my back. As I was questioned, I replied Yes sir and No Sir. The judge stopped and smiled.

"Are you in the military?" he asked.

"No, sir" I said. "I was raised by a military man and a Southern woman."

True story: A few years before that, while living in California, I was in a grocery store buying a birthday cake for a co-worker. I asked if I may please order a cake. May I please have a name iced onto it? I pleased and thank you'd my way through the entire process and finally the girl left to finish my order. But, just before disappearing, she turned and said, “I think you are the politest person I've ever waited on."

I smiled and said, "Could you just shut up, please, and ice my damn cake!"

When all else fails slip into sarcasm. That's my motto, and I’m thankful for that. But I digress.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, probably because there are no gifts involved, except for the gift of time; time spent with loved ones and friends; the gift of thanks. A day of thanks; a truly American holiday, like 4th of July, but one we celebrate not with picnics and beer, firecrackers and sparklers, but with a meal shared with friends and family, and pets, always the pets.

I have so much to be thankful for again this year. Yes, the usual family and friends and health and happiness, blah blah blah, everyone says that. But I am also thankful, in some ways, that we are an America that has changed so much this year and, fingers crossed, an America trying to find its way out of the darkness we’ve felt for a while now.

It looks bleak; hell, it feels bleak, but people will do better when they know better. You just have to stand up and demand better from those we elect. As a gay man I know all too well that … cue PSA music … It Gets Better.

Sure, I’m still free and a little more equal than I was a few years back, though there are still some that would like to see that change, but I am sensing more hope than last year; more standing up for ourselves and others, when we see others being abused and mistreated. And it feels like the pendulum may be swinging back towards understanding and acceptance, and the hope that we had for a few years. I am thankful for that.

Eighteen years ago, when we began this ride, Carlos and I couldn’t be legally married anywhere in America, and here we are now, married for five years … in South Carolina … and every single state in this country.  I am still thankful for that. And let me be clear … even with the Hate Speech coming from all over this country, and sadly, in our own White House, they will never be able to take that away from us; we are husband and husband and that’s how it will stay. That bell cannot be unrung, no matter who says what.

Trust. And be thankful.

I am thankful for the years I had with my sister—I miss her every single day—because of the things she taught me and continues to teach me. I am grateful to her four daughters, all of whom she raised so well that when Carlos and I told them we were getting married, they all responded, “Now he really is our Uncle.”

I am thankful for my Dad. He didn’t ask for a gay son, but he got one; he didn’t know what to do with a gay son, but he did the best he could. And, when the time came to marry Carlos, it made my Dad’s day that he could be there. I wish every gay person could have a Dad like mine, who sees that change is good, and sees that not everyone is alike—even in your own family—but who loves you just the same. I still get goosebumps when I hear my Dad tell people and his son and his husband. Who knew that would happen?

I am thankful to my Mom, especially today. Thanksgiving was her holiday; cooking for her family was my mother’s greatest joy and a great gift to all of us. I am thankful that I can keep that tradition alive and can see my Mom in myself as Carlos and I cook dinner for friends. I am thankful for her kindness, even to those who were unkind to her; I am grateful for her laughter, which I can still hear in my head, and the way she would say, ‘Bye bye, sweetie, I love you,’ as we ended a phone call.

I am thankful for cold mornings and blue skies … colored leaves falling. I am thankful for small dogs and cats because, well, I'm bigger than them and I will always beat them ... just channeling a little Joan Crawford and Christina at the pool.

I am thankful for Carlos. Every.Single.Day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about how lucky I am to have him; even the days when he makes me insane … more insane … I realize I’d rather be driven nuts by him than not to have him in my life at all. I am thankful for the smirk he gives me; I am thankful for the look of horror on his face when I bust out a showtune; I am just plain thankful. I don’t know where I’d be, or who I’d be, if I hadn’t met him all those years ago.

I am thankful for music and pets and soft blankets and breathing and speaking, and having a voice to use, and use often. I realize we are still facing a tough time in this country, where fear is being used to urge hate towards refugees fleeing their homeland … fear of our transgender brothers and sisters … fear of immigrants … in a land filled with, and built by, immigrants.

I am hopeful, and thankful, that this country will once again stand against hate and divisiveness; that we stand for one another and not against one another; that we will stand up to those who hate; speak out against those who use fear to intimidate others; resist those who are untruthful.  I am thankful that more and more people are standing up for those who may not feel like anyone would ever stand for them.

I am thankful for that … and thinking being feeling loving breathing laughing crying living and speaking.

For Life … and all it encompasses.

To Life.

Thanks.