Those Top 37 Things You’ll Regret When You’re Old

Those Top 37 Things You’ll Regret When You’re Old

January 13, 2014   

1. Not traveling when you had the chance.
Traveling becomes infinitely harder the older you get, especially if you have a family and need to pay the way for three-plus people instead of just yourself.
2. Not learning another language.
You’ll kick yourself when you realize you took three years of language in high school and remember none of it.
3. Staying in a bad relationship.
No one who ever gets out of a bad relationship looks back without wishing they made the move sooner.
4. Forgoing sunscreen.
Wrinkles, moles, and skin cancer can largely be avoided if you protect yourself.
5. Missing the chance to see your favorite musicians.
“Nah, dude, I’ll catch Nirvana next time they come through town.” Facepalm.
6. Being scared to do things.
Looking back you’ll think, What was I so afraid of?
7. Failing to make physical fitness a priority.
Too many of us spend the physical peak of our lives on the couch. When you hit 40, 50, 60, and beyond, you’ll dream of what you could have done.
8. Letting yourself be defined by gender roles.
Few things are as sad as an old person saying, “Well, it just wasn’t done back then.”
9. Not quitting a terrible job.
Look, you gotta pay the bills. But if you don’t make a plan to improve your situation, you might wake up one day having spent 40 years in hell.
10. Not trying harder in school.
It’s not just that your grades play a role in determining where you end up in life. Eventually you’ll realize how neat it was to get to spend all day learning, and wish you’d paid more attention.
11. Not realizing how beautiful you were.
Too many of us spend our youth unhappy with the way we look, but the reality is, that’s when we’re our most beautiful.
12. Being afraid to say “I love you.”
When you’re old, you won’t care if your love wasn’t returned — only that you made it known how you felt.
13. Not listening to your parents’ advice.
You don’t want to hear it when you’re young, but the infuriating truth is that most of what your parents say about life is true.
14. Spending your youth self-absorbed.
You’ll be embarrassed about it, frankly.
15. Caring too much about what other people think.
In 20 years you won’t give a darn about any of those people you once worried so much about.
16. Supporting others’ dreams over your own.
Supporting others is a beautiful thing, but not when it means you never get to shine.
17. Not moving on fast enough.
Old people look back at the long periods spent picking themselves off the ground as nothing but wasted time.
18. Holding grudges, especially with those you love.
What’s the point of re-living the anger over and over?
19. Not standing up for yourself.
Old people don’t take sh*t from anyone. Neither should you.
20. Not volunteering enough.
OK, so you probably won’t regret not volunteering Hunger Games style, but nearing the end of one’s life without having helped to make the world a better place is a great source of sadness for many.
21. Neglecting your teeth.
Neglecting your teeth.
Brush. Floss. Get regular checkups. It will all seem so maddeningly easy when you have dentures.
22. Missing the chance to ask your grandparents questions before they die.
Most of us realize too late what an awesome resource grandparents are. They can explain everything you’ll ever wonder about where you came from, but only if you ask them in time.
23. Working too much.
No one looks back from their deathbed and wishes they spent more time at the office, but they do wish they spent more time with family, friends, and hobbies.
24. Not learning how to cook one awesome meal.
Knowing one drool-worthy meal will make all those dinner parties and celebrations that much more special.
25. Not stopping enough to appreciate the moment.
Young people are constantly on the go, but stopping to take it all in now and again is a good thing.
26. Failing to finish what you start.
Failing to finish what you start.
“I had big dreams of becoming a nurse. I even signed up for the classes, but then…”
27. Never mastering one awesome party trick.
You will go to hundreds, if not thousands, of parties in your life. Wouldn’t it be cool to be the life of them all?
28. Letting yourself be defined by cultural expectations.
Letting yourself be defined by cultural expectations.
Don’t let them tell you, “We don’t do that.”
29. Refusing to let friendships run their course.
People grow apart. Clinging to what was, instead of acknowledging that things have changed, can be a source of ongoing agitation and sadness.
30. Not playing with your kids enough.
When you’re old, you’ll realize your kid went from wanting to play with you to wanting you out of their room in the blink of an eye.
31. Never taking a big risk (especially in love).
Knowing that you took a leap of faith at least once — even if you fell flat on your face — will be a great comfort when you’re old.
32. Not taking the time to develop contacts and network.
Networking may seem like a bunch of crap when you’re young, but later on it becomes clear that it’s how so many jobs are won.
33. Worrying too much.
As Tom Petty sang, “Most things I worry about never happen anyway.”
34. Getting caught up in needless drama.
Who needs it?
35. Not spending enough time with loved ones.
Not spending enough time with loved ones.
Our time with our loved ones is finite. Make it count.
36. Never performing in front of others.
This isn’t a regret for everyone, but many elderly people wish they knew — just once — what it was like to stand in front of a crowd and show off their talents.
37. Not being grateful sooner.
It can be hard to see in the beginning, but eventually it becomes clear that every moment on this earth — from the mundane to the amazing — is a gift that we’re all so incredibly lucky to share.

Stuff That Needs To Be Said

Weapon Of Choice: An Open Letter To Christians Who Believe That Sexuality Is A Decision by John Pavlovitz

History is no guarantee of legitimacy.
Thinking sustained over time doesn’t always equal Truth. Sometimes it just equals tradition.
Just because many religious people get something wrong over and over and over again, doesn’t eventually one day make it right.
In fact, when it comes to things that we come to believe corporately as a people, sometimes history and tradition and religion are the enemy of progress. We become intellectually lazy; wrong but comfortable in that wrong-ness and unwilling to dig deeper.
Ever since Christians have been talking about homosexuality, many have been trying to begin with an assumption that is simply incorrect and dangerous, that it’s something that all gay people choose.
Here’s part of a conversation between myself and a blog reader, a straight Christian man who was repeatedly, rather matter-of-factly, and quite judgmentally telling gay people that their sexual orientation was simply a choice; a willful decision, (and because of that he reasoned, a decision to sin).
It’s an all-too familiar song sung to the LGBT community by the religious community.
He did what so many well-meaning but misguided straight people of faith do: try to tell a gay person how their hearts work.
On a comment thread where literally hundreds of people had previously talked about their own experience as LGBT, many of them Christians; (trying for decades to deny and change and pray away what was so clearly inherent in them), this man simply refused to listen. I don’t think he was doing this to purposefully hurt them or shut down the conversation, he was simply trying to protect a part of his faith that was being threatened by actual people’s experience to the contrary.
After watching the discussion devolve into a series of predictable religious sound bites, I jumped in and we shared this exchange:
Reader: Sexuality is a choice.
Me: When did you choose heterosexuality?
Reader: I made my choice as a teenager when I started to date girls.
Me: Were you ever sexually or physically attracted to boys, or are you now?
Reader: No, never.
Me: Not really much of a choice then, is it? A choice, implies different possible options. But dating guys wasn’t ever really an option for you, was it? If you had been attracted to men, but began dating women anyway, then your sexuality would have been a choice. As it is, you simply went with what felt completely right and natural, rather than with what would have been disgusting and distasteful to your sensibilities. It was a consenting to instinct, not a decision in opposition to it.
I went on to share with this man, a devout Christian, what I want to share with those of you who echo his views on sexuality as a choice; with as much compassion and care and understanding as I can:
I feel for you, and I’m sorry, but I think you’re wrong.
I’ve been a pastor for 18 years, and been shoulder-to-shoulder and face-to-face with thousands of wonderful, God-loving men and women, who were and are living an inherited lie: the lie that gay* (or straight) people can choose the objects of their affections and the inclinations of who they love.
You may not believe me when I tell you this, but I understand.
I know well, the difficult spot that you’re in as a believer.
I know that if you can believe that homosexuality is indeed a choice, it can allow you to feel negativity or judgment or disapproval toward gay people without guilt—but for the vast majority of people who identify as LGBT it isn’t a choice, but simply an acceptance of what is most real and most true. 
As a straight person, you can disagree with that statement if you’d like, but know that when you do, you’re not being honest with how your own heart works and how you yourself have experienced attraction, and affection, and love, and the desire for intimacy with another.
I know as a Christian, how hard you’re straining to believe this old lie, and the tug-of-war that is happening in your spirit as you fight for an idea you may not quite have peace with anymore.
I know that you’re desperately holding on to a damaging prejudice, despite so much evidence in the face of it, because you really need that prejudice to reinforce the faith perspective you’ve grown-up with and grown comfortable with; and the one you feel you need to keep in order to please God.
To abandon that assumption, would threaten the huge house of cards that would get exposed to the breezes of a billion follow-up questions in its wake.
I understand this, I truly do.
But this idea of anyone choosing who they love, an idea that so many Christians hold so tightly to;
It’s simply not real.
It’s a fake truth dressed up as religion.
It’s a counterfeit license to discriminate in the name of God.
People are lives, not lifestyles.
There is no such thing as a “gay lifestyle”, any more than there is a “heterosexual lifestyle”. (Other than romantic/sexual activity, just how do you define the lifestyle you lead as a straight person?)
In this world, there are only people; there are simply human beings, some who are straight and some who are not.
It’s just the simple, stark, unadorned truth of our shared humanity, regardless of how it messes with our religious convictions or makes us uneasy.
Many people are not made heterosexual, and they can’t be made into one.
Each of us has within us, desires to be known and cared for and loved, that are all far beyond what we can steer or alter. You know this, because you’ve experienced it all yourself. To tell a non-heterosexual person that they could and should somehow be convinced to choose the opposite of what their hearts say, would be to suggest that you, a heterosexual person; with enough pressure and cajoling and therapy, could possibly be convinced to be gay. (I imagine this would be an insulting proposition to most of you).
Straight, Christian friend, you can feel any way you care to about those who identify as LGBT, but you’ll need to develop your faith perspective in light of this truth about them. You can build any case you want against non-heterosexual people, but you simply can’t have choice as a weapon in your arsenal.
If you argue that gay people are making a decision regarding their sexuality, you’re essentially not accepting the logic of your own journey and history, and you’re expecting them all to make an emotional sacrifice that you haven’t ever had to make.
That’s a problem.
That’s not loving your neighbor as yourself.
That’s not the Golden Rule.
I’m pretty sure that’s not of Jesus, either.
But don’t take my word for it. After all, I’m still just another straight Christian guy talking about gay people, and that’s definitely not the solution here. We’ve had far too much of that, for far too long in the Church.
Here’s a suggestion: The next time you encounter another adult who tells you that they’re not heterosexual, ask them whether it is their choice or not, and however they respond, have the decency and respect to believe that their understanding of their own heart, is more trustworthy than your evaluation of it from a distance.
If they tell you it’s a choice, then for them, it’s a choice—but not simply because you would like it to be. If they tell you they’ve felt this way since their earliest memories, trust that they know better than you about their reality. 
Millions of LGBT people, many of them just teenagers, are being damaged, wounded, and some are quite literally dying, trying to bear the oppressive heaviness of this assumption of choice that we’ve placed on them. Frankly, I think the Church needs to own this, and do some of the “loving of the least” we hear Jesus calling his people to.
I know this message may anger you or frustrate you, or make you want to dig your heels even more deeply into the assumptions you’ve lived in for so long, but I pray you won’t. I pray you’ll ask some really tough questions about what you’ve believed about sexuality, and what you know about your own experience.
And I hope that you won’t just accept the answers you think you know.

We Christians talk about “speaking the truth in love” an awful lot, and even though you may not believe it, I can only tell you that I share this truth, with all the love I have; for you who are trying earnestly to reconcile a faith that you care so deeply about, balanced with the love I have for the LGBT community, who are trying to live authentically and peacefully alongside you in community—and being injured by you.
They are testifying with their words and their hearts, that they did not ask to be born compelled to love as they do, anymore than you or I did. I think they deserve to be heard and listened to; not preached or shouted at.
One of the easiest and least compassionate things we can do in this life, is to assume that the way we experience the world, is the way that everyone else does, or should.
We need to do better as a people of faith, at seeing gay people (and all people for that matter) as they are, not as we desire them to be. Our faith after all, claims that all people are made in Gods image, not in our own.
Christian, maybe you’re right; maybe love is indeed a choice, but just not in the way you’ve always thought.
In a very real and tangible way, you may need to choose who and how you love.

Moderation

The last post did something I have hoped all of my posts would do: it started a conversation on Facebook.  Yay!  But I had to use the delete button on the post linking to my blog.  I feel I need to explain.

I have one reason, and one reason only (so far) for unfriending someone on Facebook, and that is that they don't post enough to be interesting.  I don't unfriend everyone who fills that description, for there are other reasons to keep in touch with people, but I won't unfriend someone who I don't agree with, or even someone I don't like much, as long as they keep me entertained and are willing to talk to me. That being said, I do keep my finger on the delete button when it comes to specific comments. And I have rules to help me decide what to delete.

My friend Bobby has been a person of ideological persuasion, but some of his recent Facebook posts have hinted that he wants to move toward a more empirical approach to understanding the issues of the day.  This pleases me, but as he is new to the process, he doesn't always know where to look.  The comments he posted were some quotes from some people with rather fringe ideas, which he explained as an effort to understand the political roots of the movement.  I don't believe he's going to find that understanding on the fringe. 
    He didn't quite violate the first rule, which is "The comment must have something to do with the post," but it did have the potential to move the conversation away from the subject, so once our discussion re his comments was over, I deleted it, lest someone else get involved.

My friend Jason is a special case.  He's on a journey which I've already been on.  I came out all right, but there are several places he could wind up at the end, some of them good, some of them worry me, but he's got to make this journey on his own because his circumstances are unique to him, and he's dealing with a lot.  (I'm sorry if I'm being cryptic about this, but it concerns a subject that I don't discuss on social media.) 
    Unfortunately, Jason's comments can sometimes invite abuse, often because they can appear abusive in themselves, as Gaby pointed out to me last night.  But when I can help it, I don't intend to let anyone abuse him.  If one wants to argue the merits of his comment, that's perfectly alright, and you are certainly welcome to ridicule his poor spelling and grammar, but remember, my finger hovers over the delete button, and I can make it all go away.

Birth, Death, and the Inadequate Social Media.

My friend Brittany recently had a baby.  Jason was born several weeks early, and for a while it didn't seem he was going to make it.  Brittany was making several anguished Facebook posts about her suffering child, and so many of her friends and family were offering words of support and encouragement.  I was not one of them.  I wanted to be, but I just wasn't.
    This past Saturday night, my friend Michael came home from an outing with friends and found that his boyfriend, also named Jason, had died.  From the second hand information I got from a friend of ours, and a few Facebook posts, we learned that Michael had found Jason wrapped in a blanket on the couch where he had been napping.  Michael is quite devastated.  Again, there was an outpouring of support and condolences from so many friends on Facebook.  I was not one of them.
 Actually, that's not entirely true.  But my attempt looked, at least to me, terribly tacky.  In fact, I have fears that this blog post may make me look terribly tacky because I can't seem to shake the idea that I'm making their pain all about me.
    The problem is that I can't seem to find words when someone I care about is going through pain.  I'm ashamed of that.  I really want to be there for them, but by "be there" I mean actually with them so I can touch them, hug them, hold their hand.  I still probably won't have anything to say, but I'm a good listener, and I have comforting shoulders.  Electronic media just seems so inadequate, and that's exacerbated by my own lack of meaningful verbal expression.
    Michael was in chat last night on Facebook.  I wanted to let him know I was thinking about him, so I found a crying depressed looking emoticon and sent it to him as a message.  When I posted it, it was huge.  When you look at them in the menu, they're about the size of  a 12pt font.  This was like 72 or bigger.  It was awful.  When they're small, you can't see how cheesy they really are.
    I don't know when I'll see Brittany again.  I'll probably see Michael at the funeral.  Till then, I'm wishing my arms could reach out through my computer to say "I love you, and I'm here for you.  And I wish I could make the pain go away."

Failure To Attend

when you swallow
a bottle of pills
and you feel them
begin to take hold

 it is possible to have a second thought
it is possible to think maybe I was hasty
and...
that
dizziness
and the tingle
grow stronger

and consciousness
begins to
transform
into
a
greasy rope

it is possible to assemble the ideas
together and motivate your brain
to regret,
not the past,

but the exact moment
you're swimming in

as the realm of light
becomes dimmer through
half open eyes

and
my
hiding spot
next to my
childhood home
became
an awfully poetic
place to

decide
to
abandon
a very foolish
(no longer twinkling)
conclusion

so I sent a text

a car arrived
as I stumbled to
the driveway

and there my memory
becomes intermittent
for a bit

I remember a step;
I remember a dashboard;
traffic;

a voice saying,
"Ted, don't go to sleep"

I remember telling a nurse,
"I changed my mind"

BLACK CHARCOAL
LIKE BURNT MUD
SUCKED THICK
through the straw

you feel it lining the grooves between teeth
and the backsides beneath tongue

SO BLACK
SO REPULSIVE
YOU JUST WANT TO REJECT
you just want to vomit on your lap

so,
you gag

"Ted, you have to drink it all"

you stiff the gag
you have no choice
you suck
it in
and it licks your throat

you gag again,
some comes up,
and you swallow that back down

it takes so long

when you finally lay back
you feel ashamed

black grainy fluid dripped
over lip,
down chin

like you've been slurping
from a sewer pipe

an officer came grinning
beside the gurney


 and I just asked him, "Please, before we go away, let
me
have
just one cigarette."

but no,
not even a suicide attempt
is enough to grant
such a kernel of kindness

when you swallow
a bottle of pills
and begin to feel
them take hold

it is possible to have a second thought

but even so

the nurse called my father
and I lacked the
importance for him to appear
-----------------------------------------------------------
An original poem by my friend Ted Vanderveldt,
 published on Facebook, 9-22-13                                       

Rules of Engagement.

I messaged my friend Mark, "Have I told you how much I appreciate you?"  I haven't heard back from him yet, but I really do, and the reason makes me sad and a bit frustrated.

Mark and my best friend from high school, Jeff, were a trio in my early college years.  Since then, we've gone separate ways.  Jeff was around our home town for a long time into my adulthood, but about a decade ago he moved to a small town on the other side of the state, and my only contact with him is via Facebook, and even that is rare.  Mark moved to Chicago, and only recently moved back to a town about an hour away.  I haven't seen him in nearly 30 years, but we talk on Facebook frequently.

Mark and Jeff are both FOX-style consevatives, and I'm... not.  That makes for some good conversation, but only between Mark and me.  I've learned from past experience that that Jeff is not so easy to engage, and that frustrates me.  I'd like to be able to have an opposing opinion without being unfriended, but I'm afraid to test the boundaries for fear of never hearing from him again.

Today, Mark posted a link to an article about a pair of photographers who had declined to photograph a gay wedding based on their Christian beliefs, and were subsequently sued.  The photographers were "found guilty and ordered to pay thousands of dollars in fines."  The slant of the article was that the religious liberties of the photographers were being violated, and, y'know, dictatorships, coersion, authoritarianism, and other hyperbolic language.  (Side note:  the other point of view was presented without hyperbole.  For an article with the other point of view, click here.)

The post got the following comments:



 My first comment was a Biblical reference, to Luke 16:18.  I'm sure Mark is familiar with the passage, but either he missed my point, or he was being deliberately obtuse to make his own point, which is acceptable. However, building it around the archaic idea of a "gay gene" is a bit odd, so I think his point failed.  Also, one does not become an adulterer until one commits adultery, whereas one is gay or straight regardless of whether one has engaged in any sexual activity at all, so that comparison failed as well.

My own point was that if the couple's refusal to work with a gay couple was really based in moral conviction, then they should also refuse to work with couples marrying a second spouse, and for that matter, any couple engaged in amarital sexual relations.  Otherwise, they're just using their religion as an excuse to express a personal predjudice.

Jeff's last comment was the one that got in my head, however.  What he said is something he fervently believes.  I find it utterly ridiculous, and I was mentally trying to choose between a couple of snarky responses:

• Oh yes.  The "L" word.  I'd forgotten about that.  That's terribly important.
• That's funny.  That's exactly what liberals think of conservatives.

But it's Jeff, not Mark, and I can't say anything.  That makes me sad.  And it makes me appreciate Mark.

From the Bad Husband File

Gaby doesn't usually ask me my opinion about housekeeping, but tonight he came to me while I was sitting at my computer and asked me whether he should mow the lawn, do the dishes, or bathe the dogs. I considered the question momentarily. I would be fixing dinner starting at 9:00, so the dishes would need to be done by then. At the time he asked, there was plenty of time to bathe the dogs before doing the dishes. The lawn could be put off till tomorrow. So I told him, "Dogs first, then the dishes." Then I went back to my Words With Friends game.
About 7:40, I got in the shower so that that would be done before Big Brother came on at 8:00. By the time the show started, I was dressed for work. As I watched the show, I was vaguely aware of the sound of the lawn mower. When Fritz the dog was let in the house, I noticed that he hadn't been bathed. I briefly wondered about it, but this wouldn't have been the first time Gaby asked my advice about something and then did something else. Oh, well. As long as he gets the dishes done.
After Big Brother, I got on Facebook to discuss the show with a couple of friends. It was an amusing conversation, and when Gaby came in the door, I shared a bit of it with him. He said, "You know, you could have watched the show in the studio while you were bathing the dogs."

I suddenly realized that my interpretation of the initial conversation was ALL wrong.

I also realized I was in the doghouse.

He went on to complain that I had been sitting in front of the computer all day doing nothing, and that it wasn't like I'd been to busy to help when he asked. Which is true; I'd been practially inert in the whole five and half hours I'd been awake. And worse, I'd been entirely self-absorbed and had not paid any attention to what he was doing at all.
So how do I fix this? Ideally, I would fly around the world in a westerly direction so fast that I would actually cause the earth to rotate backward and thereby turn back time and correct my mistake before it happened. But that seemed impractical.
But I still had more than an hour before I had to go to work, so I figured that if I went and got dinner at, say, Subway, and then washed the dishes before and after I ate, that should at least get one job done. So that's what I did. And it worked out.

I still need to do the two fleabags, but that'll have to wait till tomorrow.

The Crux of the Issue

From Marriage Equality USA:
The debate over the freedom to marry is about the right to enter into the state-created institution of civil marriage only. After all, marriage is a civil right and two consenting adults should be allowed to enter into the institution if they so choose.
Unlike some religious definitions, civil definitions of marriage do not usually mention childbearing, sexual relations, living arrangements, or religious belief/observance.
When clergy or congregations marry couples it is a religious rite, not a civil ceremony, though the government may recognize it. Clergy and congregations choose whom they marry. They aren't compelled to accept the state's marriage definition, and indeed, many religious institutions don't accept it. Many religious institutions are more restrictive than the state, rejecting interfaith marriages or remarriages after divorce. Some have a broader definition, blessing the unions of same-gender couples. (Marriage Equality USA would like to thank Interfaith Working Group for this passage.)

In the U.S., a marriage is only legal with the signing of a marriage license. That is why many opposite-sex couples can go to a judge or any other public officiant and need not go to a church, synagogue or mosque. Our government has made the process simpler by allowing religious leaders to perform a religious wedding AND to act as a civil officiant. Each religious leader must sign the civil license before witnesses and the couple for the marriage to be legal. In Europe, couples MUST go before a public official to marry. A religious ceremony is 'secondary' and optional -- only occurring if the couple wishes to have one.
This fact is important to note because many same-sex couples are simply interested in the government's acknowledgement of their relationship. We are not asking for any religion to accept our marriages, although, many religious institutions throughout our country do.

• Civil and religious marriage are not the same thing. Many religious faiths already recognize religious unions or marriages between same-sex couples, even though such unions are not recognized by the government.
• Individual congregations of Reform Jews, American Baptists, Buddhists, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Unitarian Universalists, Methodists, the Society of Friends and the United Church of Christ have performed marriages for same-sex couples.
• Even after civil marriage becomes available to same-sex couples, religions will retain the right to decide for themselves whether to perform or recognize any marriage, just as they already do. No court decision or legislative enactment can change the basic tenets of religious faith. For example, some religions will not marry someone who has already been divorced, although the person is free to marry civilly. We respect the right of a faith to decide for itself what marriages it will embrace.

Crushed/Crush

So, Jason Collins of the NBA comes out the other day, and in the middle of all this positive feedback he's getting, Chris Broussard, an ESPN basketball analyst, gives a dissenting and critical opinion on the air.  A friend of a friend on Facebook posted that video and voiced agreement and support for Broussard, and somehow it showed up in my newsfeed. 
    As I watched it, a couple of things stood out.  For one thing, he kept talking about the "gay lifestyle", which is just wrong, in the same way that talking about the "left-handed lifestyle" is just wrong.  But what I commented on was his equating being gay with having sex, to which the original poster responded, "Are you actually gay if you don't have homosexual sex?"
    It's astonishing to me that in a time when an understanding of the nature of being gay is becoming rather mainstream that there are still people out there who regard being gay as a behavior.  Even my own Congressional Representative thinks of it that way.  But I answered the question by telling some of my own story, because in many ways, especially the age of self discovery thing, I'm pretty typical.  (I stayed in the closet a lot longer than most, but that's another story.)  But answering that question made me wonder about the experience of some of my friends, so I asked a few of them a series of questions.
    The first question was When did you know?, and by that I meant, when did you know you were attracted to people of the same sex?  For me, it was around the first grade, when I was six.  Two guys told me they knew when they were five.  One young lady told me that the revelation came in stages, but she had her first "serious" girlfriend when she was eleven.  A fellow at work told me he was in his teens.
    The second question was When did you know that you were different?  It was a difficult question to phrase succinctly because it encompassed the idea that while one may know (he) finds (boys) attractive, (he) may not have any knowledge of the concept of  'gay'.  One said he knew right away (he's younger), while another said it was three years later.  It was four years later for me.
    That knowledge came to me one sunny morning on the playground at my grade school.  I was sitting on the stoop of one of the portable classrooms when a sixth-grader, one year ahead of me, asked me if I ever kissed my brother.  We were an affectionate family, so I said yes.  He said, "That means you're a fag, because only fags kiss other boys."
    It was a stunning revelation.  "It" had a name, and I was "it".  And "it" was bad.  And the notion that it was bad was reinforced by my peers for many years after.
    And it wasn't about kissing my brother --that part was complete nonsense.  It was about whose attention I wanted, and who I wanted to look at, and why I felt so utterly different from every other boy in my school.  And this new knowledge affected my self image and self esteem for the next three decades.
    Question three was, do you remember the name of your first crush, and how old were you?  I asked this question to a few people at work as well, most of them straight, and was amused that, gay or straight, most of the crushes occured about the same time of life, in kindergarten or early grade school.  And the question brought a smile to everyone's face.
    My first crush was a kid in my second grade class named Kent Malave.  He was Argentinian, and had an older brother named Ted, who I still see around town on occasion.  During our third grade year their family had moved back to Argentina, but Kent was back for fourth grade.  He came over to my house once that year, which thrilled me to no end.
    Kent had Mrs. Robinson as his fourth grade teacher and I had Mrs. Clark, but I had Mrs. Robinson for my reading class, and I sat at Kent's desk.  I wrote him a message in pencil for Valentine's Day that covered half his desk.  He was not happy, since he was the one who had to clean it off.
    I saw him at the hotel about three years ago.  His hair was completely white, and shorter, and he was no longer wearing those teardrop shaped glasses with the lenses that got dark when he stepped out into the sunlight.  His beauty had faded a bit.  Age does that sometimes.  I wish we'd had the chance to talk, but I was working, and he was part of a large party that was leaving.
    There were other boys I liked in  grade school:  David Sims, Kirk Neimeyer, Grant Hartzog, Steve Parduhn, Larry Ethridge. I was the dorky kid with the bad haircut, the bad jokes, the strange clothes, and the obsession with the Osmond Brothers (and, yes, I know I'm showing my age.)  One more thing to make me different was all I needed.
    It took me decades to figure out that deciding to be gay or straight was like deciding to be right or left handed.  There's only so much one's will-power can accomplish.  And the closet is a very bad place to be.  At some point in your life, you have to decide to be happy.
    So congratulations, Jason.  I think you'll find that the freedom of living without fear is worth a lot more than someone else's opinion.

Baby Steps

I needed new shoes for work, and after not finding what I needed at Academy, Gaby and I drove out to the mall.
He's become more and more angry about what he's begun referring to as "Chicken Pride Day" last Wednesday, and he's especially been disgusted by his own friends who saw it as a freedom of speech issue.  But he had an idea, and he shared it with me as we walked from the car to the Sears entrance.
   He wanted to know how many of his friends would be offended by seeing him kiss me.  Would they think it's different for us than for straight couples?  And if they do, why?
   I reached out my hand so he could hold it as we walked in.  He didn't notice.


So far, only three of his 200+ friends have answered.

Two Down. Way Down.

Yesterday was our 2nd wedding anniversary. I had plans, but had to work last night, so it was just going to be dinner at a new restaurant in town, and possibly a movie. I wanted to be there by 5:30 or 6. I expected Gaby to wake me in time. I also expected him to be close to ready to go. (It takes him an hour and a half to get ready to go to the grocery store.)
I woke up at 6:06. I found him in the kitchen, still in his sweats, microwaving a bowl of beans. I reminded him that we had plans. He had totally forgotten.
I'm trying hard not to be angry --he was, after all completely guileless, though I'm having trouble understanding why he would remember it was our anniversary but not that we were going to be doing something about it. But the truth is that I'm very disappointed and very unhappy.

Turmoil

I'm upset with a dear friend.
Last night he posted an invitation on Facebook to sign an online "petition" to rob 'Group A' of their basic civil rights because of their superficial resemblance to 'Group B'. This apparently is justified because the acts of Group B were so heinous that anyone who looks like them should be viewed with suspicion and contempt. Failure to oppress Group A might make Group C feel bad, even though Group A is in actuality a subset of Group C. Group A has no actual connection with Group B, in spite of the specious claims made by a cable "news" organization which are reiterated in this petition. The project that Group A is working on is being entirely mischaracterized in order to provide a rationale for the petition.
I have other friends who would gladly sign this petition, and that's just the way they are. But this friend surprized me because I have never known him to be bigoted or unjust. It's very disturbing.

Mudslinging

A question came up, which I posted on Facebook, about the vilification of Nancy Pelosi. My best friend responded, but instead of answering the question, he offered me more labels. I don't care about labels, I just want information, and I said so. Enter my brother, who decides to rub Jeff's nose in the fact that he didn't provide any real information. Jeff's not the kind who likes his opinions disrespected, and, with both of us objecting to his lack of an answer, he unfriends us both, complete with name-calling. Scott doesn't notice, and continues the nose-rubbing, this time complaining about the name-calling along with everything else.

I'm not sure what to think about all this. Once upon a time, Jeff and I could discuss things we disagreed about without needing to convince the other we were right. That's the kind of discussions I like. You tell me why you think what you think, I'll tell you why I think what I think, and that's good enough. It's hard to do that with Scott. Scott must persuade you that his point of view, his opinion, his understanding is the correct one. To our family, particularly our spouses, I refer to this as "he has to win". But we're getting better at talking with each other. I doubt Jeff and Scott will ever be able to talk civilly. Both are too stubborn.

Jeff moved to the land of Far Away (just this side of Far, Far Away), and Facebook is our constant contact. I like knowing about the mundane in his life, even if all he does is complain about the weather. But I miss him. We just don't see each other often enough, so the lack of Facebook leaves a void.

And I still don't have the dirt on Pelosi.

Scott objected to my use of the phrase "he has to win." He felt that he came across like Tonya Harding and that I was blaming him for Jeff's departure. So we discussed what I meant by the phrase, which wasn't easy for me because, in my mind, the phrase perfectly described situations I had observed. I suggested the word 'confrontational,' and he liked and understood that one, so I tried using it in this post. In context, it didn't work. It didn't describe what I was trying to say. I thought about 'contentious', which is closer both linguistically and contextually, but it had a connotation of belligerence that didn't fit. Scott honestly believes he's doing a service by convincing people he's right. He's not out to get you.

I had to laugh, though, when I realized that with all his complaining and pressuring me to make adjustments, the little bastard was trying to win again. In fact, I've been telling that as a funny story to some of my co-workers.

He did convince me of one thing, tho. An economy of language doesn't work if the reader can't understand what you're talking about. I use language that I think is implicit in order to shorten the story, but it winds up being too oblique or esoteric to be of any real communicative value.

So in an effort aimed at clarity, I have changed this post once again in order to

1) leave no misunderstanding about what I mean when I say "he has to win," and

2) make it clear that Jeff was reacting to both of us, not just one of us.

And if Scott doesn't like it, tough! I'm not changing it again.

Jeff did not just unfriend us. He deleted his Facebook account.

Belief in Santa Claus Is Not A Value

I unfriended my brother on Facebook.

He said something that offended me so much that I just decided I didn't want to deal with him for a while.

The thing is, I don't know why it hurt me so much. He didn't really say it about me; he said it about a version of me that only exists in his own head. Before, I was able to just dismiss whatever it was that he said about this other Ron, ignore it, even if I didn't like it. Not this time.

Several years ago, when Rosie O'Donnell had her daytime talk show, she talked about how much she liked reading about herself in the tabloids. She said that since none of the stuff in the tabloids had anything to do with her real life, it was like reading about a fictional character, Tabloid Rosie, who led a much more interesting life than she did.

I don't feel the same way about Tabloid Ron. Tabloid Ron, to me, is a smothering blanket that I must fight my way out of. I explained something like this to him the night I came out to him. Instead of just telling him I was gay, I actually took him out to my favorite club in order to "blow the sides out" of the box he had me trapped in.

Now, I have a tabloid Scott, too-- a version of Scott filtered by my interpretation of my experience with him. Scott is a force unto himself. He's got to dominate every conversation and be the center of attention in every room. Everyone is entitled to his opinion, and no one is allowed to have an opinion of their own. For him, it's a competition, and he's got to win. Any dissenting opinion will be punished: maybe not now; maybe 20 years in the future.
He'll remember what you said (or something like what you said, or maybe something someone else said that he attributes to you, or maybe he'll just take the words you said and jumble them around so that they can become something he can gripe about for the rest of your life), he just won't have ever known what you meant. He's simply not interested. You can try to explain, but it's a futile effort. He doesn't care what you think; he only cares about what he thinks about what he thought you said. This is the womb of Tabloid Ron.

Scott said once that he's a person who gets in trouble because he likes to ask "why". He doesn't. Instead, he asks "whether", which is a much more limiting question. "Whether" is a cage the truth must break out of before it can be itself. But breaking out of the cage requires a dissenting opinion, which is always going to be seen as an attack, and which, as I've already said, will be punished. It also requires a lot of words, all of which will be misunderstood, and every half dozen (or fewer) will require at least half a page of rebuttal... each. The rebuttal(s) will not have anything to do with what you said (meant). If you try to clarify, eventually you will find yourself drowning in quicksand.

Over the last few years I've come up with some guidelines for online communication.
1. Only answer answerable questions. Keep it short and to the point.
2. Do NOT respond to opinion. He's entitled to an opinion (even if you aren't), and it's just an expression of where his head is at at the moment. Comments are unnecessary.
3. If he asks for an opinion, approach with caution. Usually it's a trap. Keep it short and to the point. Remember the quicksand.
4. He loves "chasing rabbits". Don't follow him.

Needless to say, this severely limits our communication. At least online. But he lives almost 12 hours away, and Facebook and email are the easiest ways to keep in touch, especially with my schedule.

Somehow, though, when we talk on the phone, everything works itself out. Even more so than in person. Weird, huh? And this time, I had provoked him into wanting to know my point of view on our points of contention. So we talked. And talked and talked and talked. We talked about our different perceptions of things that had been said or done in the past. ("Christie sent you an email about..." "And I gave her a snarky answer because I thought it was you." "Yeah. Why did you do that?" "I didn't think you seriously wanted an answer. You were just looking for a reason to grind my face in the mud." "Ron, I'm always looking for an answer.") I explained that I care very little for debate, but do enjoy exchanging ideas, and that I feel his communication style makes me feel that my opinions aren't worth anything to him. He explained that it's not his intent to make me feel bad; he's just trying to pull out more information. All this took about four hours.
Anyway, as usual we've ironed things out for a while. And while we were talking, Scott got a new friend request, which he accepted.

Holidays

My brother, his wife(ish) and his daughter came to visit for the holidays. I had four days off work so that I could visit with them while they were here (unlike last year, when I had to work almost every night.) Because of his schedule, we actually celebrated Christmas on New Years Eve. This is normal for us. One year we had Chrismas ten days early, another it was in February.

Earlier that day, we all went out to eat at a local steakhouse. While we were hovering around the salad bar, I asked Christie to do something for me. When we got back to the table, she upset the vegetable equilibrium. Yes, that's right; she spilled the beans. She started asking questions about the wedding. So now my parents know...for sure. They might have guessed or suspected already. I'm not sure.

Anyway, now that it's out in the open, I guess I might expect one or the other to ask questions, maybe. Eventually. Or not. I can't tell.

Iowa Day 4 - On the Road Again

We've had breakfast in the hotel restaurant every morning during our stay, and we've befriended the waitress, Ilma, a beautiful lady from Columbia. Yesterday, she was the one who took our picture before we left for the courthouse, and today, we showed off our rings.

We were mostly pre-packed, but we still got out of the hotel an hour later than I had planned. I had hoped to get out by 9:00 because I didn't want to be late for the surprise. I found out later that I had over-estimated our travel time, and we could have slept in for another hour.

The Surprise!

Most of the trip was rainy, and I was glad that my mechanic had talked me into replacing my windshield wipers before we left. It was raining hard when we got to Wichita. We were so glad that there was a parking garage attached to the Century II. I made Gaby change out of his sweats, and put on his dress shoes before we went inside.

I'm not sure what tipped him off, but he realized at some point while walking through the convention center that we were there to see the play Wicked. We had missed it in Oklahoma City last spring, and though the last performance of it's run in Des Moines was the night we arrived, I couldn't guarantee we'd be there in time for the 6:30 show. But the opening night in Wichita was on the way home, so I had ordered tickets - which arrived at the box office an hour after we did. Because I had over-estimated our travel time, we wound up waiting 2½ hours for the show to start.

If you ever have the chance to go see this play, do so. Gaby told the waitress at Denny's that it was the best play he had ever seen. Marcie Dodd, as Elphaba, has one of the most powerful voices we've ever heard. She actually had Gaby in tears at the end of the first act just from her quality of voice. And Heléne Yorke, another great singer, as ditsy blonde Glinda ("the Guh- is silent") kept us laughing through the whole play. The Wizard was played by Tom McGowan, who used to play Frazier's boss, Kenny, on TV.

The venue was not that great. I don't know how old the Century II is, but it's due for renovation. It reminded me of OKC's Civic Center before it was redone. The acoustics made some of the dialogue and lyrics difficult to understand, and our seats were far, far away. next time we see this play --and we definitely will-- I hope it will be in a better place.

We got home about 2:30 in the morning. It was a good trip.

Iowa Day 3 - The Big Day

Mom called my cell last night, but the phone was off and I didn't find out till this morning. I called her back, and still managed to maintain the vegetable equilibrium; I didn't spill the beans. I did tell her about the surprise tomorrow night, but as far as the trip goes, I just told her that we were away on a romantic getaway.

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After breakfast, we got dressed in our new suits (Gaby looked so sharp) and headed for downtown Des Moines. Going through the security check at the entrance to the courthouse, we were informed that we would not be allowed to take pictures inside the building. We were about 20 minutes early, so we sat outside Courtroom #404 admiring the decor that we couldn't photograph. At 12:15 sharp, we went inside. No one else was there. Four minutes later, I went back to see if anyone was back in the office behind the courtroom. A secretary said that Judge Hanson had stepped out, but he'd be right back.

When Judge Hanson returned, he immediately set about finding a couple of witnesses, which were his secretary and another from another office. We handed over the paperwork, and he asked Gabriel, "Do you want to marry him?" " Yes," and then to me: "Do you want to marry him?" "Yes." The witnesses signed the papers, and left. The judge asked, "Do you want the ceremony, or do you want me to just declare you married?"

Now, before the judge came in, Gaby had been so nervous he was afraid that he was going to forget his English. I assured him it would be very easy, but even I was surprised that it could be that easy. I looked to him to see what he wanted to do. Stammering just a little, he said, "Well, we bought rings." And suits. Don't forget the suits.

The judge said, "Okay. Let me get my notebook with the vows. I'll be right back." The vows were very traditional, except for the word "spouse" where "husband" and "wife" would normally be. I managed to get through them without completely choking up. Gaby stumbled over a couple of words ("...in sickness and in hell...") and giggled a bit. A kiss for luck and we were on our way.

The day was very overcast with a threat of rain, so the photos we took of the courthouse were all grey toned. It didn't match our mood at all. I got the hostess from a restaurant down the street to take a photo of the two of us with the courthouse in the background. We called my cousin Paul, and our friend Charla, and then wandered downtown till we got hungry. We had a delicious lunch at a restaurant that was very Spaghetti Warehouse-ish. The salad bar was an old truck. We took more pictures from the top of the parking garage (we love the fact that you can get on the roof of parking garages for better views,) and then went back to the hotel for a nap and...etc.

Since this was our last night in Des Moines, we decided that we should check out the clubs. There are only three gay clubs in Des Moines, one of which is closed on Tuesday. The other two are next door to each other on 5th Street in downtown East. Tiny places, but the crowd was pretty good. They had a drag show, which we are not into, and this one was badly performed anyway. No one said hello, or acknowledged our existence, even when I insinuated myself into the group watching the guys playing pool. Overall, it was a very bo-o-oring experience.

But just down the street we got some great photos of the Capitol building all lit up.

Iowa Day Two - Vindication

Before going to bed last night, I called our friend Charla. I told her to pull up my post and read it. After doing so, she told me that she'd been watching "The Office" on TV, and had just seen the episode about Jim and Pam's wedding. Apparently, they'd invited a bunch of guests who were driving them crazy, and at some point had realized, "This is our wedding." Charla reminded me that this is our wedding, and if we want to elope, well that's our business and no one else's.
I'd told so many people that we were going that I hadn't thought of it as an elopement, but thinking of it that way made me feel a lot better about being here secretly. In fact, it's a lot of fun.

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Des Moines is really easy to get around. Area-wise, it's a lot smaller than OKC, and there are only two highways. So much of the architecture in downtown is a century old and built in Victorian and other classical styles. For a guy like me, it was a feast for the eyes.

First thing to be done was to pick up the marriage licence. We had them make a couple of corrections, and then the young lady gave us the instructions on what to do with it. Then we spent the day wandering around downtown. Of particular interest, the Botanical Gardens and the Iowa State Capitol.

On the way back to the hotel, we needed to stop by a mall, a drug store, and a gas station. Bad directions from a couple of clerks sent us exploring West Des Moines and Clive in the dark, but we made it back home in time for "The Big Bang Theory."

Tomorrow is the big day.

Iowa Day One - Secret Getaway

Okay, I'm a wuss.

We're here in Iowa. My parents have no idea we're out of town. In fact everyone except my parents knows we're here, and why.

Now, it's not that I don't want them to know; I just can't figure out how to bring it up. (I've been trying for a couple of weeks.) My Dad was next door working on a rent house yesterday while I was cleaning out the car. He made a comment to Gaby about how rare an occurrence that was, but that's as far as that went. I polished my shoes on the front porch, hoping he might comment on that as well, but he didn't see. Ditto packing my briefcase and ice chest in the car. Then he was gone and I hadn't said anything. Gaby called me a coward. Yeah, I know.

I called my brother on his birthday last week. We discussed the plan a bit, and how fast it was all happening. I figured that maybe he'd be talking with the parents later that day. In the back of my mind I was hoping he'd bring it up to them so that I wouldn't have to. If he did, they've said nothing about it. Sigh.

My parents love Gaby, and my Mom frequently says how glad they are that I've found him. But I just don't know if they're glad enough so that it's okay for him to be their son-in-law.

I was discussing this with my neighbor, Dot, the other morning. She said, "I'm sixty years old, and my Mom's been dead for years and I'm still seeking her approval." Damn. I was hoping I could grow out of this eventually.

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So, we left Edmond at 7:00 this morning. The pastoral scenes in the sunrise were gorgeous. We have no pictures because I was driving, but we got some other shots later. Gaby took a lot of pictures of the Flint Rock hills in eastern Kansas. We stopped for lunch in Ottawa, and took a mini tour of the downtown area and I got really excited by it's amazing Victorian architecture, especially the courthouse. Kansas City was just up the road, and then we were in Missouri for 114 miles. At the Iowa border, we stopped at the visitor center, and then drove an hour to the hotel just NW of Des Moines. Now we're just resting up for a day of tourism tomorrow.

I don't know this as a fact, but I suspect that we got the room we did because we were paying the Hilton employee rate, which is really cheap, just like the view from our room.

I learned today that Des Moines, Iowa is about 60 miles closer to my house than San Antonio, Texas. Who'd a thunk it?

Runnin' Rings 'Round the Metro

A few nights ago, we went to Kohl's department store and bought a couple of suits. (For some reason Gaby didn't want to get married in a t-shirt and jeans.) This was the first time I'd seen Gaby dressed up. He looked so sharp. We used my new Kohl's credit card, leaving just enough credit to buy the rings later.

Tuesday night, we went back to Kohl's and found a ring we liked--even better, they were having a buy one get one free sale. Unfortunately, they only had one size nine (as luck would have it, we both wear the same size.) So we went back home and got on the computer to see if we could get them online. But no, even with the expensive express shipping, they would be arriving at our house while we were in Iowa. I was beginning to believe that I had just waited too long to do everything.

So we called all the other stores around the metro. Turns out that each store only carries one in each size. The Moore store had a size nine and a size ten. Gaby thought he might be able to wear a size ten, so Wednesday night we drove down there to try it. It was wa-ay too big. Worse, all the b.o.g.o.f. signs had been taken down. I asked about it, and the clerk said that the sale had ended yesterday. Oh, no! But that the sale on Friday was a 50-60% off sale. Oh, yay! And she could hold the ring for us till then. Oh, double yay! So we hurried back to the Edmond store and had them hold their size nine as well.

I was so excited about this that I pulled up the Kohl's webpage on the computer at work and was showing everyone the picture of the ring. Lots of Oohs and Ahs, even from the guys.

Friday morning, I headed south to Moore, got there ten minutes after the store opened, and hurried to the jewelry department. The same clerk was there (training a new salesgirl. I realized at that moment that she was a manager,) and got the ring out before I could ask for it. And on this sale, it was 55% off. Oh, triple yay! Several minutes later, I was picking up the ring at the Edmond store as well.

I had seen online that The Surprise was still available, but I couldn't order it till 10:00. I messed around a bit, going to garage sales and such. Then when it was time to call, I got put on hold for 13 minutes. But now it's bought and paid for and we have to be there at the right time to pick it up or it goes away with all my money. It's going to be great.