Category Archives: life

Presents under the tree

My sister and I with our presents Christmas morning at my paternal grandparents; house.
My sister and I with our presents Christmas morning at my paternal grandparents’ house. My guess is I’m about 9 years old in this pic. (Click to embiggen)
I remember lots of Christmases being asked to pose with my presents so one of my grandparents could take a picture. I remember it happening a lot. Some years they would have several of the kids pose together. Some years, particularly when one or more sets of cousins were present, they’d arrange a photo first with one, then the next kid, and the next until we were all done.

I don’t have very many of those pictures. I’m not sure which extended family member ended up with them. The picture above is one of the very few I have in which my sister appears with me. I don’t have any with my cousins. And since I never spent a Christmas with my younger half-siblings, I don’t have any with them, either. In the modern era of digital image sharing, I suspect that if people take that particular kind of picture that it gets shared with all the relatives who sent the kid a toy. I know that part of the reason this particular scan is such low resolution is that for a while one of the standard processing options you could ask for when sending film in to get photos made, was you would receive one image that was about 3 inches tall by 5 inches wide, and then printed on the same chunk of photo paper two smaller images, about one-and-a-quarter inches by one-and-a-quarter. Besides the two duplicate images being a lot smaller, they were also cropped square, so some of the image on the left and right was lost.

The idea was you could take some scissor and cut off the two duplicates from all the pictures and share them around. That’s how this picture, take at my paternal grandparents’ house, maybe by my grandparents, wound up in my other grandma’s photo album. One of the miniature duplicates was mailed to her.

The other reason the picture is a bit hard to make out is that the photo was printed on a faux-linen texture photo paper. The texture introduces some noise into the image. And over time, the parts of the texture that is raised tends to rub of and lose part of the image.

I cropped this down a bit to cut out the boring parts of the room in hopes the picture would look a bit more interesting, but the resolution at which it was scanned, plus the tiny size of the original are conspiring against me.

I remember the robot and kept it for years. It walked back and forth, the chest panel opened up and these sort of laser canon things folded out and made a lot of noise while the robot’s upper body spun around. In my early teens the robot started falling apart, so I disassembled it and tried to figure out if I could rebuild any of it into anything useful or cool. I never quite liked any of the things I transformed it into.

I don’t remember who gave that one to me, though based on the size my guess would be my paternal grandparents. I have a lot more memories of poking and prodding presents under the tree during the days and weeks leading up to Christmas than I do of opening presents Christmas morning. I loved lifting the presents, turning them this way and that, figuring out the relative mass of different parts of the package to get an idea of the shape of whatever was in the box. Guessing what materials the gift is made for by the weight, density, and most importantly the noise it made as it moved in the box.

It’s why my maternal grandma always set up at least one box with extra things inside (buttons, bolts, little bells inside mint tins, et cetera) to make weird rattling noises. And it’s one reason I don’t feel like a Christmas tree is complete until there are wrapped presents under it. It isn’t that I want a lot of gifts. I just want some wrapped boxes to try to guess the contents of. And to have days to check it out and think about it. It’s the puzzle and the potential of things in might be that seems to get the little kid in me most giddy.

There’s also the pretty paper and ribbons and such. Especially back when a lot of the presents would come from relatives who lived far away and would mail them to us. All of the wrapping would be different. One aunt might have wrapped on the presents in cream-colored paper with images of holly leaves and berries, for instance, and another had silver paper with snowflakes. I remember some wrapping paper would have images that weren’t just a few abstract or cartoon characters, but would be a fully illustrated Christmas scene, such as a family decorating a tree, or people going sledding. I like trying to compose stories for those pictures.

I now enjoy giving presents a lot more than getting them. Some years I try to wrap everything in similar paper. I seldom stick to it, though, because there is also certain wrapping paper I find that I think a particular friend or relative will really like it. Or it reminds me of them in some way. I seldom survey anyone afterward, but sometimes someone will comment on the cool wrapping paper, and that makes me feel as if I accomplished the mission.

I probably think about this sort of thing a lot more than other people do. But it’s a pretty harmless obsession. And it adds a bit of bright color to the world, so that can’t be bad.

On our third anniversary…

(Click to embiggen)
(Click to embiggen)
So, three years ago today I got to stand with the man I love in front of a bunch of people we both love and say, among other things, those traditional words, “I do.” It was wonderful and happy and I couldn’t stop crying or grinning.

Part of the reason I kept tearing up was because it was a historic moment. A nice majority of voters in our state has agreed that gay and lesbian couples should be able to legally marry just weeks before, and so we were officially tying the knot on the very first day that it was allowed in our home state. This was over a year before the U.S. Supreme Court extended that same legal right all across the country. So we’d been fighting for the right to marry for a long time, including a previous attempt by the religious right to repeal the state law granting domestic partnerships all the legal rights the state could. So part of the celebration was for the thousands of other couples around the state who were finally able to access such legal rights as hospital visitation and community property and renting, leasing, or buying property jointly (without having to pay extra taxes if one of you predeceased the other), and so on. Much of which doesn’t sound very romantic until you read heart-wrenching stories of people who are kicked out of their own homes or barred from the deathbed of a dying lifelong partner because of homophobic relatives.

Another part of the reason my eyes kept brimming over with tears was because he had already been together for 15 years at that point, and while we had called each other husband and many of our friends saw us that way, we weren’t husbands before the law.

Another part was that so many of our friends had gone to great lengths to make the ceremony I kept referring to as “the elopement” into something a lot more fabulous than I had expected. From the surprise string duo to the incredible number of flowers, to the custom chocolates, and so much more, it was a magical day.

And then there are the friends themselves. Contrary to what some people say (including a lot of the anti-gay folks who try to pretend they aren’t anti-gay), a marriage is not just a private agreement between two people. Legally a marriage isn’t just a piece of paper, nor is it only a contract between two adults, nor even merely the list of over 1000 federal legal rights that were often talked about in the court cases dealing with marriage equality. Legally it is a binding agreement between those two people and the state. The state (and by extension local and federal governments) promise to provide certain rights to the people being wed, and to hold them to certain responsibilities. That’s where all that assurance of property rights and survivor benefits and hospital visitation rights come from, the fact that the government is agreeing to recognize your mutual decision to name each other next of kin.

Likewise, a wedding isn’t just a formality or a ceremony you do for attention. It’s an affirmation and a covenant—not just between the brides and/or grooms, but between the loved ones who attend and those who can’t but offer their support and love. When we attend a wedding, we’re making a promise to support the resulting union.

So our loved ones who attended the wedding, and those who were unable to, but had sent their love and well wishes, were also on my mind that day. And their love and their belief in our love had my heart so full, it nearly burst.

But of course, the biggest reason I kept crying and could barely make my voice work to say the important “I do” when needed, was because Michael is the sweetest, smartest, kindest man I’ve ever known, and for reasons I still can’t quite fathom, he loves me.

Michael is the handsome devil on the right.
Michael is the handsome devil on the right.
It may only be officially our third anniversary, but I’ve been privileged to love and live with this man for over seventeen years. Every year with him thus far has been better than the one before. Which means I must be the luckiest guy in the world.

Happy Anniversary, Michael!

Making a list and checking it…

A steampunk Santa... (wonderhowto.com)
A steampunk Santa… (wonderhowto.com)
For the longest time I wanted to be the kind of person who got a bunch of my Christmas shopping done in advance. It shouldn’t have been difficult. There are certain people I know I’m going to want to give a present to every year. And I come across things all the time that make me think, “Oh, that would be good for so-and-so!” But for various reasons I wouldn’t.

They weren’t bad reasons. Sometimes I’d look at the potential gift, think about how many months it was until Christmas, and worry that the person would buy it for themselves before Christmas arrived. Or that someone else would give it to them at some other gift-giving opportunity. Or I myself, while looking at the gift, would realize the person’s birthday was only a mont or two away, and I’d buy the gift, but as a birthday present, instead.

Then one year, at a science fiction convention in March, I kept happening on things that would be perfect presents for certain friends, and they were unusual enough that I was relatively confident none of our mutual friends would purchase it. And I picked up presents for about seven of the people on our usual list of a couple dozen people. And once I had a box in the bedroom that already had presents for several people, it was really easy of the course of the next few months to take the plunge and pick up presents as I found them.

And then I got laid off on the last day of June.

I wasn’t unemployed for very long, but my jobs for the rest of the year were contract gigs through agencies. Some of them only lasted a couple of weeks. My take-home pay for each was considerably less (particularly since I was paying our medical insurance all out of pocket) than it had been.

Already having half the usual presents acquired helped in a couple of ways. First, there was simply a smaller number of gifts that I wanted to acquire than usual during that last half of the year. But also, because there were already gifts for a bunch of people, I had an incentive to no just throw up my hands and say, “no one’s getting anything from me this year” or whatever. I didn’t want to hand one friend this really nice thing I’d picked up in March, and then hand their spouse or significant other whom I usually picked up nice things for an obvious token gift, right?

What that did was keep me on the look-out for thoughtful gifts constantly. And that helped my attitude. Maybe it’s just me, but thinking out things I’d like to give to people I care about makes me feel good. I can’t be depressed while imagining how much a friend is going to enjoy this cool thing I found for them.

Yes, there are lots of things we spent less money on that year. But we still had a really fun Christmas.

Then the last week of the year I started work as a regular employee at a new job, at a salary and with benefits that put us back in the kind of shape we’d been in before I got laid off. And because I’d gotten into the habit of keeping my eye out all year for presents, the next year by the time December rolled around, I already had presents for a bit more than half the usual list. We still had to do a bunch of shopping in December, but it was a lot less than in most previous years—less stressful and more fun.

I don’t know what happened this year.

It didn’t even occur to me until midway through November that I had picked up nothing: not one single gift for any of our friends or family. Why? I have no clue. Even when, last summer, announcements were made at work which indicated upper management at work was looking to sell the company (which might mean a big change in my employment situation), it didn’t make me think, “I should start working on Christmas, now, while I’ve got time.”

So, here we are, it’s December already. We’re way behind on our usual decorating. I hadn’t done any shopping or even any real thinking about what to get for people until just this weekend. So we’re in a scramble at the end of the year. And there have been more announcements at work, another company has tendered an offer. In a few months I’m either going to be an employee of the new owner or looking for a new job altogether.

I’m trying not to let any of this get me stressed out. I’m 99% certain that I was feeling down last week and very cranky much of the weekend because I’ve been fighting off a cold, and the remodeling at work filled the office with fumes that irritated my sinuses and eyes, and noise and disruption that just make things a teensy bit of a hassle throughout the day.

The truth is, decorating and wrapping and all of that makes me happy. As my husband noted on Sunday evening, when I was up to my eyeballs in boxes of decorations I’d hauled up from the basement, after putting lights on the bushes in front of the house and so forth, that it was the first time he’d seen me smiling in a few days.

So, let’s get this holiday show on the road!

Grandma’s houses… and other things

Christmas at my Grandma's, age 4. There are a surprising number of pictures of me with that Tonka steam shovel in later years.
Christmas at my Grandma’s, age 4. There are a surprising number of pictures of me with that Tonka steam shovel in later years. (Click to embiggen)
“Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother’s house we go…” as the song says. My paternal Grandmother lived for most of my life in a five-bedroom house that Grandpa built when I was 2 years old. And for as long as my parents were still married to each other, nearly every Christmas and Thanksgiving (a lot of the Easters) was spent at that house. When I was very young, my maternal Grandmother lived in the same small Colorado town as my paternal Grandparents, so I got to see her (and my Great-grandparents) at least briefly for each of those holidays as well.

Grandma lived in three different houses during that time… Continue reading Grandma’s houses… and other things

To absent friends…

World-AIDS-Day-2012_1Today is World AIDS Day. Each year, I spend part of the day remembering people I have known who left this world too soon because of that disease.

So: Frank, Mike, Tim, David, Todd, Chet, Jim, Steve, Brian, Rick, Stacy, Phil, Mark, Michael, Jerry, Walt, Charles, Thomas, Mike, Richard, Bob, Mikey, James, Lisa, Todd, Kerry, Glen, and Jack. Some of you I didn’t know for very long. One of you was a relative. One of you was one of my best friends in high school.

I miss you all. It was a privilege to know you.

Rex Huppke has a post on why fighting AIDS is still important: On World AIDS Day, pass this on. ‘Only a third of gay and bisexual men “realize that new infections are on the rise among gay men” and 22 percent think rates are decreasing. The survey also found: “Most gay and bisexual men are not aware of current treatment recommendations for those who are HIV-positive, or of the latest developments in reducing new infections.”‘

And in case you’re operating under notion the AIDS only something that happens to gay men who bring it on themselves: in 2014, around 1,000 adolescents (children aged 15-19) were newly infected with HIV every week in the Asia-Pacific region alone. And globally, the number of children aged 15-19 infected with the virus that causes AIDS is 26 every hour.

It is about being thankful, after all

Things to be grateful for (Click to embiggen).
Things to be grateful for (Click to embiggen).
It’s easy to spend all of our time worrying about bad things happening in the world, ranting about stupid things people do, complaining about problems that plague us, and so forth. I feel especially bad doing that because a lot of things in my life are not just good, they’re wonderful. And it’s worthwhile to remember that. And not just remember it, but share it.

So, among the things I’m thankful for this year:

  • My husband — sweet, kind, loving, smart, sexy, and way too awesome for the likes of me
  • My friends — talented, entertaining, amazing, supportive, and inexplicably willing to put up with me
  • purple, anything purple
  • people who help other people
  • books
  • coffee
  • people who sweat the details
  • flowers
  • people who make good art
  • electricity
  • people who love
  • soy nog
  • people who clean up after natural disasters
  • rockets and satellites and space probes and all the cool things humans build to learn more about everything
  • tigers
  • people who make other people laugh
  • otters
  • my family, yes even the most crazy, because they’re part of what made me who I am, and I’m sure that I drive them just as crazy as they drive me
  • people who make music
  • my job
  • people who don’t sweat the small stuff
  • my wonderful, talented, hard-working, long-suffering, handsome husband (who absolutely deserves to be on this list more than once!)
  • people who dance
  • raspberries
  • people who do science
  • kittens, puppies, adorable pictures, and all the sweet goofy things in the world
  • people who build things
  • music
  • technology that lets me carry my entire music library in my pocket, access the world’s libraries from the palm of my hand, read silly things people say halfway around the world, and complain about the most petty first world problems while standing in the checkout line at the grocery store
  • people who care
  • my extended chosen family, which yes overlaps with several other times on this list (not just the second)
  • the crazy world of entertainment that gives us everything from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic to Ashe vs Evil Dead and everything in between
  • readers
  • sexy people (yes, including the cast of Magic Mike)
  • my clever, patient husband who happens to be both an amazing computer resurrectionist and a damn good cook

Thank you, everyone who reads this. Where ever you are, whether you’re celebrating Thanksgiving today or not, I hope your life has more blessings than tribulations. May you be surrounded by love and filled with joy—because you deserve it!

Lots to be thankful for (click to embiggen)
Lots to be thankful for (click to embiggen)

It’s an old family recipe…

Enjoy yourself a nice food coma... (Click to embiggen)
Enjoy yourself a nice food coma… (Click to embiggen)
I learned a lot of incredible recipes from my grandmothers and great-grandmothers as a kid. There are a few favorite old dishes that, for one reason or another, I never learned how to make before the only person in the family that knew it passed away. One of my great-grandmothers cooked sweet potatoes for Thanksgiving in heavy cream and molasses. They were incredibly delicious, but it was apparently a rather involved process. If she wasn’t attending the big Thanksgiving dinner, we didn’t get the creamy sweet potatoes. Her daughter, my Grandma B, didn’t like the creamy recipe. She preferred to just pour a bit of molasses and a bunch of mini-marshmallows on top and bake the sweet potatoes. Lots of people eat them that way, but they just don’t compare to the way Great-grandma made them.

My Grandma P. had all sorts of favorite old recipes, but most of them weren’t Thanksgiving fare (her chili was to die for!). But about ten years before she died, after she had let my Aunt Silly take over hosting the annual Thanksgiving dinner, Grandma brought this frozen cranberry salad which everyone loved. Really, really loved. And they begged her to make it again for Christmas. It became the dish she brought to all the holiday get-togethers from then on. For some reason, I never asked her to explain the recipe to me. I was a bit surprised, after Grandma died, when I found out none of my cousins, nor my aunt, nor Mom, had ever asked for the recipe. We had some discussions and realized that none of us agreed on all the ingredients we recalled being in it. It was frozen, it had cranberries, and orange slices, and Cool Whip mixed together, but also had layers. But some of us remember it having nuts, while some said it never did, and others remember coconut, while others thought it was marshmallows, and so on. I suspect it’s because Grandma had alway been an improvisational cook, so I bet she never made it exactly the same way, twice.

Over the years since, I experimented in an attempt to re-create it, and have come up with a process that gets something most of the family members agree is darn close. I know that Grandma probably made hers with canned cranberry sauce, but I always start with raw cranberries and mandarin oranges, cooking them down to make homemade cranberry sauce. In the tradition of none of us remembering it the same way, every year I intentionally do at least one different ingredient than the previous year. My sister keeps insisting Grandma’s had mini marshmallows (at least two cousins agree with her), while Mom and I are pretty sure it didn’t. But this year, for my sister, I’ve added mini marshmallows.

For the last fifteen years or so, Mom has made this thing she calls Mistake Salad. Originally she meant to follow a recipe she got from a magazine, but she skipped a major ingredient. But everyone liked what she made, so she’s kept doing it “wrong.” If you’ve ever heard the novelty song “Lime Jello Marshmallow Cottage Cheese Surprise,” this thing Mom makes is from a similar tradition. Except if there were a song about Mom’s, it would be called “Pistachio Pudding Pineapple Cottage Cheese Surprise.” And while that may not sound good, I assure you it is sinfully delicious.

Family holiday traditions are weird like that. Several years back my sister had Thanksgiving dinner plans go badly awry, and she wound up making spaghetti and meatballs, because that was what she had left that was fit to eat. Her oldest daughter (my niece) loved that Thanksgiving, and now spaghetti and meatballs is her favorite food to make for the holidays.

When I was young, the gravy served at big family meals was always so thick, it could have been served with a fork. After you spooned some onto your mashed potatoes and stuffing, he had to sort of mash it into the potatoes and the stuffing with your fork to get the flavor blended. A friend once explained that her family’s gravy was always thin and runny, so when you poured some on any part of your dinner, it flowed all over the plate, and everything got some gravy on it. For her, that’s the flavor of Thanksgiving: a bit of gravy on everything.

For me, it isn’t a holiday dinner if there isn’t a relish tray (at least two kinds of olives, pickles, other pickled vegetables). For my husband, the dinner needs a green bean casserole—specifically the kind made with cream of mushroom soup and French’s fried onions. And afterward there has to be pie. Unless I’m feeling up to make cherries jubilee (the kind with flaming brandy! Fruit, sugar, ice cream, and fire! How can you top that for a dessert?), then I can live without pie.

This year it’s just going to be the three of us at my Mom’s. So we’re only going to have part of a turkey, and only a couple of side dishes. Though I can tell from the messages I’ve been exchanging with her that both of us have picked up a few extra things besides what we discussed when divvy-ing up the menu. So we’ll probably wind up with enough food to feed a dozen. It may be more than filling, but it will also be fun.

So, what are you having?

Oppressed Oppressors, part 4

The percentage of Americans with no religious affiliation has grown since 2007 in both political parties. Source: Wall Street Journal, November 3, 2015.
The percentage of Americans with no religious affiliation has grown since 2007 in both political parties. © Wall Street Journal (Click to embiggen)
I always regret giving in to the emails, pokes, not to mention questions directly from some of my relatives about looking at Facebook1. The most recent example of why I shouldn’t look at Facebook wasn’t the crazy anti-immigrant meme that one of my cousins was sharing, it was the commentary he made along it: that it’s wrong to let these foreigners into the country, especially while treating good Christian white guys like him as a minority in his own country. There are so many ways to unpack that that I don’t even know where to begin2.

I didn’t begin, by the way. I’ve stopped attempting to communicate with him at all ever since the conversation a year or two ago while he was ranting about the War on Christmas where I tried to point out that not everyone who objects to manager scenes and the ten commandments in courthouses are foreigners who refuse to “learn our ways.”

So when I saw a news story today about a Pew poll showing that White Christians now make up less than half of the U.S. population, I realized this sort of irrationality is going to get a lot worse. Studies have already shown that people who are members of a privileged class start feeling as if something is being monopolized by another group when that group achieves 30% of the screen time or talk time, et cetera7. So now that White Christians actually do make up a minority, well, it’s not going to be pretty.

Of course many of them have felt that they were in the minority for a long time. I remember a few years back when the percentage of people who identified as non-Catholic Christian went below 50% that folks in the religious rightwing went bananas, claiming that Christians were now in the minority. This reveals a tiny piece of one of the major issues, here. Which is that a lot of the sorts of people who will non-ironicly talk about “taking back our country” don’t think that everyone (a lot of everyone) who claims to be a Christian actually is.

Another revelatory bit is an amusing string of posts that have been going around Tumblr. The original post talks about how sometimes the sheer cruelty of some homophobes makes them wish you could set them up with a blindfold, a stick, and a hornet’s nest, but tell them it’s actually a piñata. Someone else responded by commenting how casually anti-Christian most liberals are, and how they (the Christian commenter) are once again being demonized for their beliefs. The original poster then points out the the post said absolutely nothing about Christians, “but you chose to put yourself in there.” It isn’t liberals who define Christianity as anti-gay, it’s all the anti-gay people who call themselves Christians and claim that Christianity is anti-gay who have defined Christianity as anti-gay. The part that doesn’t often get acknowledged even on the liberal side, is that those folks refuse to accept anyone who doesn’t share their anti-gay views as part of their faith.

And I’m not just saying this because of a few Tumblr posts. During the lead-up to the 2012 Presidential Election, as Mitt Romney seemed poised to sew up the nomination, he met with the Rev. Franklin Graham, son of evangelist Billy Graham, (and the current head of Billy Graham Ministries). After Romney promised to fight marriage equality tooth and nail, a large section the the Graham Ministries website which had been there up until that meeting that went into great detail “proving” that the Mormon Church is a cult, rather than a legitimate part of Christianity, simply vanished. Literally deleted without comment. And suddenly Franklin Graham and all of the rest of the rightwing evangelicals were endorsing Romney.

A similar thing happened with Graham Ministries and Liberty University and the Moral Majority and such a couple of decades before when they all stopped referring to the Catholic Church as a cult (which they often described as ‘the whore of Babylon”) and the pope as the antichrist. It was 1994, after two years of the Clinton presidency, and it was becoming clear that popular sentiment was become less explicitly anti-gay. There was even a big conference that resulted in a bunch of evangelical leaders and Catholic leaders signing a document that supposedly outlined common doctrine. Except the document was mostly focused on a list of political goals, not least of which was overturning gay rights laws where they existed, and opposing any expansion of anti-discrimination laws by adding sexual orientation or gender identity.

So, while they like to claim that the word of god is inerrant and unchanging, they certainly are more than willing to forget all sorts of doctrinal differences in the name of preventing queers from having equal rights, or women from having control over their own bodies, or mega rich people having to pay taxes.

Because clearly when Jesus said to welcome foreigners, feed the hungry, visit the sick, clothe the naked, and so on, what he really meant was that god only helps those who help themselves… and happen to be white, and claim to be Christian, and never do anything foolish such as being born in poverty or in another country.

tumblr_lq0mwkRaHA1qzq52eo1_500


Footnotes:

1. What’s the joke? “If I wanted to listen to my rightwing relatives most racist opinions I’d call them more often”?

2. First, there is the explicit notion that it’s perfectly okay to treat minorities poorly…3

3. It would be petty of me to also ask why a guy who hasn’t set foot inside a church in 30-some years except to attend someone’s funeral or wedding describes himself as Christian4.

4. And while church attendance doesn’t necessarily equate to belief, let’s just say no one in their right mind would describe his lifestyle as being even vaguely Biblical.

5. Note that it is not that Christians no longer make up a majority (They’re still about 70% of the population), nor even that Whites are no longer a majority. It’s that particular combination of being both White and a Christian. I think the more interesting statistic is that White Christians still make up about 70% of all Republican-leaning voters. While Democratic-leaning almost exactly one-third White Christian, a bit less than one-third non-White Christian, and then a bit more than one-third people of all races who either identify with another religion or none at all6.

6. Note that this still means that 64% of Democrats are Christian. So the Democratic Party is hardly the bastion of godlessness that some would have you believe.

7. Those same studies show that folks in the dominant group think that other groups are getting “equal time” when their representation or recognition amounts to 15%.

Here comes the gloom again

It’s that time of year. For the last 17 years I’ve been dealing with an annual bout of depression. It usually manifests as random moodiness, occasional bouts of the irrational grumpies alternating with periods of mild melancholy. Very rarely there are even periods of free-floating rage.

It typically starts in September or so, and the kick off is usually when I notice that my birthday is approaching. Because a long time ago, the approach of my birthday also meant the approach of Ray’s birthday, which meant I could start planning what I was going to give him and how we were going to celebrate our birthdays.

And each year the depression usually stops sometime around the anniversary of Ray’s death, November 14. It’s never a completely clean ending. Some years I have a good cry. Some years when I don’t feel I’m getting through it or it’s just being worse than usual, I schedule a marathon of movies that will make me cry, so I induce a good cry.

This isn’t the only time of year I get sad remembering him. There’s always a moment during the decorating of the Christmas tree where I’ll start crying again, for instance. It might be when I unwrap one of his favorite ornaments, for instance. Then there’s times when one certain Christmas song as recorded by one particular artist pops up.

Last year was particularly bad. Much worse than it had been in some while. I don’t know any particular reason it was worse last year.

I had noticed that it didn’t seem to be happening this year. I wondered if maybe because last year was so bad that maybe this year I’d get a pass. But no. This morning I woke up really cranky for no reason, and then while I was picking out clothes to wear today I glanced up, saw Ray’s favorite stuffed tiger in his usual spot on a shelf above one dresser and I just about burst into tears. Every little thing that has gone wrong today (and they’ve all been quite minor annoyances, really) has either made me disproportionately angry or completely demoralized.

I have friends and loved ones who deal with chronic depression. I always feel a little guilty for even mentioning my annual issue when it seems so minor by comparison. But one of the times I said that, another friend reminded me that there’s nothing unreal about grieving. It’s not a competition. And it isn’t a zero-sum game.

Just as grieving my late partner doesn’t detract from my love for my living husband, admitting I’m not well doesn’t take anything away from other people.

It’s been said that shared grief is divided, while shared joy multiplies. I think another way to look at it is: sharing pain doesn’t really diminish the load, but the shared compassion and empathy replenishes our reserves, so the grief becomes bearable.

So, anyone who needs a hug, consider this an open offer. Because we all need a little more love.

Every child deserves to live free of harassment

Some facts about bullying. SOURCE: GLSEN's 2013 National School Climate Survey (Click to embiggen)
Some facts about bullying. SOURCE: GLSEN’s 2013 National School Climate Survey (Click to embiggen)

Go purple on October 15, 2015 for #SpiritDay

Spirit Day began in 2010 as a way to show support for LGBT youth and take a stand against bullying. Following a string of high-profile suicide deaths of gay teens in 2010, GLAAD worked to involve millions of teachers, workplaces, celebrities, media outlets and students in going purple on social media or wearing purple, a color that symbolizes spirit on the rainbow flag.

Spirit Day now occurs every year on the third Thursday in October, during National Bullying Prevention Month, and has become the most visible day of support for LGBT youth.

This year GLAAD will celebrate Spirit Day on October 15 where we will all stand together; communities, corporations, celebrities, landmarks, faith groups, sports leagues, schools and so much more, to send a message of solidarity and acceptance to LGBT youth.

I certainly felt powerless as a kid in school (back in the 60s and 70s) against the bullies, and I’ve already written way more than anyone needs to read about it. But one of the reasons I felt powerless was because I thought I was alone. Not that no one else I knew was getting bullied——many of my classmates were. But we never felt that anyone cared. Part of that was because back then, at least, some teachers hurled insults such as “pussy” and “faggot” at us. But another reason was because no one was taking our side.

That’s why we should all Pledge to go purple for #SpiritDay 2015, which is tomorrow!