A HISTORY OF LOVE

I have been asked by a couple of people about my relationships.   This is actually a subject I wanted to explore.   I’ve had two long-term relationships, first with Edward from 1996-2003 and with Parker from 2003-2008.   Since Parker and I parted ways, I’ve had a couple of short-term relationships, but thus far, I’ve still not found my forever love.

Edward and I met through a mutual friend I went to college with, with whom he went to high school.   We was finishing up his Master’s Degree at the University of Florida when we met, and when he graduated, he got his first job working with students at The University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa.  I was finishing my BA in Kentucky, so our relationship was long-distance for about the first year we were together.   When I finished school in December 1997, I began looking for jobs in Atlanta and Birmingham.   It turned out that I got a job in Birmingham, so that’s where I landed in March 1998.  Our relationship was still a distance relationship, but at least we were only separated by about an hour and a county rather than a time zone and two states.   We moved in together in early 2001 when he left UA for a job in Birmingham.   We were together until early 2003, when our lives had drifted apart and taken different directions.  

Edward and I had a good relationship, and are still friends.   While we were together, I became Catholic, and he supported me through the death of three grandparents in a nine month span of time.   We enjoyed going to amusement parks, shared intellectual and religious discussions and were truly friends.   We enjoyed spending time together, but I believe we were both just young and were headed in different directions in life.  I loved living in Alabama, he loathed it with almost every ounce of his being.  

Parker and I developed a very quick relationship.  I still remember the great feelings of those early days.   Within a short number of months, he asked me to marry him, and we began planning our commitment ceremony.   I became very close to his family, and am still in touch with members of his family.   When asked why we were together, looking back, it’s easy to see that I was needy and he needed someone like me.   Our relationship, if I’m being completely honest, was rocky from the start, but we did our best to trudge through anyway.  We went though with our commitment ceremony in May 2004 and in March 2007 signed our lives away on a house. By January of 2008 we had decided to part ways.

After Parker and I parted ways, I decided it was time to work on myself.  I did enter a brief relationship late in 2008, but it only lasted a few months, and have dated a few people since then, and began my most recent relationship in early 2011.   That relationship was with George.   I was madly in love.   Oddly enough, although I’d been through two long-term committed relationships, the first time I ever felt like I was truly IN love was with George.   When he broke up with me, my heart shattered into a million pieces, and I cried almost every day for the better part of a month or so.   I wouldn’t say he’s made my gun-shy of falling in love again, but I am certainly more cautious with my heart.

Here’s my confession:  In the two years since my last relationship, I have come to learn a lot about myself, and the culmination of all these relationships has taught me what I really want in a relationship, and at my age, I am not willing to settle for anything less than what I want.   I’m willing to compromise a few things, but by and large, my heart knows what it wants and we are waiting until Mr. Right comes along.  

I still believe he is out there, I believe that there is a life full of love waiting for me.  I keep the faith that it will all happen in time.    Even though “gay death” is supposed to happen around 35, I refuse to believe that I can’t find the love of my life as I move confidently into my 40s.   And hey, if I never find him, I have wonderful friends and I am secure enough (now) in myself that I know I’m going to be ok. 

GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER: THE FIVE PEOPLE FROM HISTORY

I was asked the somewhat cliché question:  “If you could have dinner with five people from history, who would they be and why?” I’m going to tackle this topic, but to make the question less cliché, I’m going to put my own spin on the question.  So, the question now becomes:

You are given the opportunity to have dinner with any five people from history, living or dead, who would they be, why have you chosen them and what one question would you ask them and how do you think their answer would change your life?

The Dinner Guests:  

Oprah Winfrey, Dolly Parton, Anderson Cooper, Mother Teresa and Princess Diana.

I have chosen these five individuals because they are all strong individuals and each has left an indelible mark on the world.

Oprah Winfrey: I believe that Oprah Winfrey is a name synonymic with power.  Yet, she came from nothing to become of the most wealthy and widely recognizable individuals in the world, building a multi-media empire.  I have chosen her because she is a true example of someone who has taken her success and used it to make the world a better place.   My question for Oprah would be “How do you keep from letting what other people think about you from being none of your business?”  I would ask this because I believe she possesses and aura of self-assurance, perseverance and strength.  I think her answer would give me insight how to be more secure in my own self.

Dolly Parton:  Every interview I’ve ever heard with Dolly Parton has proven her to be one of the most down-to-earth individuals, while also being among one of the most successful individuals.   She is a woman of strong faith, determination and gives the impression that if you bumped into her in the grocery store that she would stand in the aisle and chat for an hour or so like she’s known you your entire life, which I believe is a product of her humble upbringing in the hills of the Smokey Mountains.    My question for Dolly would be: “How do you continually reinvent yourself while never allowing your integrity to take a hit?”  Her answer, I believe would teach me about perspective, perseverance and character. 

Anderson Cooper:  Not only is Anderson Cooper an incredibly attractive gay man, he is also a highly successful journalist and talk show host.   While Anderson came from a family of great wealth, he is successful in his own right.  He is a tough journalist, but at the very core has a heart of deep compassion.  My question for Anderson would be: “How do you find calm in a chaotic world—having been on the front lines of disasters, wars as well as peace?”  I’m always searching for ways to rest, to find peace, and believe that he may have some incredible insight into dealing with chaos.

Mother Teresa:  One of the most highly visible religious icons of the 20^th Century, she lived her simple life and made an impact on the world through her writings and humanitarian work.   She is storied to have experienced a “dark night of the soul” where her faith was in doubt.   My question to Blessed Mother Teresa would be: “How were you able to find your faith to sustain you in the darkest hours of your life?” I would like to know that because my ideas of faith are almost always going through peaks and valleys, and I believe her to have been humble and honest.

Princess Diana-“The People’s Princess”.   She, much like Dolly Parton and Oprah Winfrey, always seemed approachable, humble and down-to-earth, despite being popular.   She was an amazingly beautiful woman, who rolled up her sleeves and went where angels, and most certainly “Royals” feared to trod.  She was seen on the front lines loving those suffering from AIDS and was probably one of the greatest humanitarians who ever lived.  My question for the late Princess would be “What is it like to have everything in the world one could ever want, and yet, humble yourself and become a servant?”   I admit that were I her, I am not sure that I would be able to do it.  Her love of people was simply is something I find admirable.

Here’s my confession:  These five individuals all possess unique qualities, yet are all very similar.  They are all people who have used their popularity for good.   They all have something in their lives that I often wish that I, being sometimes selfish and self-centered, from which I could grow and become a better person. 

ON BEING AVERAGE: ACADEMIC REGRETS

I have always been average.  School was a struggle for me, and I’ve always regretted that.   In elementary school, I struggled with being focused and, most of the time, just getting by.   I’ve always regretted that for whatever reason, I was not more focused academically.  I am a very slow reader, and rarely read anything just for pleasure (my exception is books by David Sedaris which are just hilarious essays).   Math and Science were always subjects with which I struggled the most. 

The really strange thing here is that I really liked school.   I was playing school with my cousins when I was way too old to be playing school.  Oddly, I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up.   I just couldn’t seem to make the good grades in elementary school.   I didn’t test well, and somehow wasn’t equipped with good study skills. 

When I got to junior high school in the 7^th grade, something changed.   For the first and only time in my life, I made the A/B Honor roll one six-week period.   I remember my mother commenting that she thinks I was just bored to death in elementary school, because my grades were so much better one I hit the 7^th grade.   When I got to high school, especially after I started at OHS in 10^th grade was to make the Beta Club.   I busted my butt and worked as hard as I could, but always fell just short of the “B” average required to be in Beta Club.   I wanted more than anything to wear the gold sash with my cap and gown.  When all was said and done, I graduated high school with an 87.7777 average, which was just shy of a “B” average, since “B” started at 88.  

My parents didn’t really expect that I would go to college.   However, I went off to college, and was, again, average.  Yet, I believe I was successful in college not because of the things I learned academically, but because the things that I learned about myself.   Would I change my study habits now were I back in college?  Absolutely.  However, when I say that I have the advantage of looking back over 15 years later and seeing what I would do differently.  

Here’s my confession:  I’ll probably always regret that I lack the study skills that separates the top achievers from the average-to-low achievers.   People always are shocked to learn that I wasn’t an “A” student, which always makes me laugh.  People seem to think that if you are well put together and articulate that translates into automatic academic success.   A few years ago, a thought occurred to me as I pondered what it meant to be average and how it impacted my life.   The thought was this:   Most of the “A” students I knew didn’t really have to work extremely hard for their grades—some did—but not all.   Many of them just had great retention and were able to just crank out information.   What the “A” students didn’t know is just how hard the “C” student sometimes has to work just to achieve a “C”.   While I do wish that I’d had a little more encouragement to make better grades, I think that being average gives you a greater appreciation when you actually achieve success rather than if you constantly just show up and you’re always on top.   Maybe that’s a weird way of comparing it, but truly sometimes the “average” student is really doing the best they are equipped to do.  

I LOVE JESUS…BUT I DRINK A LITTLE

I’ve been a late-bloomer most of my life.   I remember having to have a girl in kindergarten tie my shoes because I could not, for whatever reason, do it myself.   I didn’t start piano lessons until I was 15, I didn’t get my driver license until a few months after I turned 16 and didn’t really start driving by myself until several months after that.  

So, I don’t suppose it should be any surprise that I didn’t begin drinking until I was in my mid-thirties.   Yes, you read that correctly.   I was 35 when I first started drinking.   I think throughout the entire decade of my 20s I may have had 5 drinks total.   However, there was this one night, when I was 35, about 20 years after my age group, that I took my first trip down what was dubbed “The Inebriation Highway”. 

It happened in September 2008, when I was invited to a new friend’s house one Saturday evening to watch a football game with friends.   And, I, well, enjoyed the taste of Boone’s Farm Fuzzy Navel.   Sure, I was 20 years behind the times, but I was turning over a new leaf.  I was recently single after a 5 year relationship, and was starting to explore new areas of life.   Alcohol was new.   I remember very well, I was sitting on my friend’s sofa, staring off into the distance as I was asked, “Are you ok?” “Yes!” I replied.   I drank most of the bottle by myself.  After a little sobering up, I drove home and we had a memory to laugh about.  

Still, that event almost five years ago didn’t turn me into a drinker.  In fact, I’m still very much a social drinker.   Until a couple of years ago, I was still a little awkward even knowing what to order at the bar.  I dated a bar owner for several months, and he gave me a few pointers.   I was drinking June Bugs for a while until I discovered my current drink of choice, Sex on The Beach.   My problem, however, is that I am still pretty much a light weight when I drink.   I can be tipsy on about drink two and a half, and pretty much gone at four.   While I have been drunk a few times, I haven’t ever been so drunk that I was falling over myself puking up my guts.  When I’ve been over-served I have two extremes…there’s the far-off stare and the touchy-feely, giggly guy.   I’m not sure which one is worse, but I’m sure they both have their entertainment values.

Here’s my confession:  Growing up, I was afraid to drink because I had seen my mother drunk on a couple of occasions, and I was afraid (and to some extent still am) of losing that much control of myself.   Then, after I became involved in church, I thought it was wrong to drink (hey, remember, I was a good Baptist).  But, once I reached 35 and began discovering myself, I learned that, as Gladys, an elderly caller on the daytime talk show Ellen says “I love Jesus, but drink a little.”   I still have a lot to learn.  I know very little about wine, although I have had some that I really like.  I can’t stand the smell of beer and therefore, can’t get it past my nose to drink it. So, I stick with the fruity Sex on the Beach.

I’ve been assured that my 40^th birthday will find me on the inebriation highway once again, but don’t worry—designated drivers have already been selected.   In addition to Sex on the Beach, I’m kind of fond of the fireball shot and the pineapple upside down cake shot.   So, a little less than five years into my drinking experience, I’m still a little wet behind the ears, but I’m enjoying the experience.   I don’t drink alone, and always make sure my friends are with me to make sure I’m being safe.  

I’m hoping my 40s will find me blossoming into someone who knows more about my drinks than I do now.   I’ll be honest, if you told me ten years ago that I’d be hanging out in a gay bar on some Saturday nights I would have looked at you like you were crazy.   But now, it’s fun to just go with the flow every now and again.

Cheers! 

WHY THE QUOTES?

If you follow me on facebook, you are no doubt familiar with my quotes.  I generally try to make at least one status of the day some sort of quote, usually something encouraging, maybe something funny.   I have had some people tell me that I should post a “real” status and not do the quotes.   To them, I say, please keep scrolling.

Why do I post quotes? I guess it’s pretty simple. I like them. But, if I dig a little deeper, I post them because they inspire me.   And, more often than not, the inspiration doesn’t stop with me.  I often get comments or messages saying, “that’s exactly what I needed to hear today.” or “How did you know?”   The truth is, I generally don’t know.   Yet, somehow the universe leads me to a quote that inspires me and I post it.  I use a variety of sources (and since I’ve been doing it a while, my memory is one of them).    Quotes inspire me to push a little farther when I feel like giving up. They also give me a chuckle from time to time and, yes, sometimes, they give hit me too close to home. Sometimes I’m afraid to post some of my quotes because they are too raw for even me, but I know that if it’s something I need to hear, then it is something that someone else needs to hear-maybe they are having a bad day and need encouragement or just a laugh.  

Do I have a favorite quote? To be completely honest, I don’t know that I do.  I do have an affinity for quotes by religious leaders such as Buddha and Mother Theresa because they aren’t always about religion as much as they are about the human experience, and being open to the Divine, to not giving up, to enlightenment.   I also have a fascination with quotes by everyone’s favorite Doctor…Dr. Seuss (even though, yes, I’m sad to admit that, sometimes, the quotes attributed to the good Doc, aren’t his quotes at all, for example “Be who you are, say what you mean, and mean what you say, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”).   Humorist Erma Bombeck’s quote “When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me'.” is easily one of my simple favorites.  

Sometimes, I choose scripture.  When I die, I want the following scripture engraved on my wooden cremation urn:

“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.  And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”

-Micah 6:8 (NIV)

Here’s my confession: I don’t really know when, why, or even how my love of quotes came about, but over time, it is something, quite like my wearing of the bow tie, that is one of my recognizable attributes.   I’m humbled when someone tells me that a particular quote has touched him or her in a positive way.  That, to me is part of my mission in this life, to somehow share unknowingly with someone something that is going to make a day brighter.  I may not be able to do much financially, but if being a messenger of positivity or humor is my lot in life, then I do hope that, when I stand before God, like Mrs. Bombeck’s quote I can say that “I used up every talent you gave me.”  If that is the legacy I’m able to leave behind, then I’m proud to do it. 

THE MISSION: A STATEMENT

On my desk at work I have a “page a day” calendar.  Usually, I go for something comical such as “Close to Home” or, when they were still being produced, “The Far Side Off the Wall Calendar”.  This year, however, I opted for “Life’s Little Instruction Calendar Volume XVII” based on the writings of H. Jackson Brown, Jr., author of “Life’s Little Instruction Book”. About a month ago, one of the most profound statements appeared as the daily maxim.  “Try writing your life’s mission statement in a single sentence.”  I don’t think a day over the last month has passed that I haven’t pondered this task.  “What,” I asked myself, “IS my mission in this life? For what purpose am I here on Earth?”

MY MISSION STATEMENT:

“My mission in this life is to live a life congruent with my own values and principals, to strive to be the friend a friend would like to have, to admit my weaknesses and faults, and to always endeavor to better myself with a lifetime of continual learning, evaluating and growing.”

Here’s my confession:  I do not believe that a “Mission Statement" should be something set in stone, but rather fluid, changeable, amendable. As we evolve on this journey called life, the human experience, we have to be willing to make adjustments along the way or we aren’t going to go very far.  As we get older, our convictions may or may not change; we may view something vastly different today than we did a year, ten years or even 40 years ago.  If we are unwilling to make changes in our lives, we risk losing out on the richness that life has to offer.  You see, to quote St. Paul, “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways.” (I Cor 13:11).  That said, life is a process, a mission, and as with any mission, there are stages and in those stages, strategies have to be evaluated in the moment. What may have worked yesterday, may not work today or tomorrow.  What we believed yesterday or today, may not be the same tomorrow.  I believe that a resistance to ridding ourselves of old patterns and processes is only setting one up for disappointment and failure in the future.

What is your mission and do you choose to accept it?

FAVORITE PIECE OF MUSIC TO PLAY

I was asked:  “What is your favorite piece of music to sing or play?”

Well, I thought I had the answer to this question, actually, until this morning, as I was playing my prelude before mass.   While I play for a Catholic church, most of my preludes come out of the Baptist Hymnal, mainly because they are quite reflective and set the mood prior to mass.   Prior to this morning, I was going to say that my favorite piece to play is either “Arioso” by Bach or “Moonlight Sonata” by Beethoven.   “Arioso” is just pleasing to my fingers and ears, and “Moonlight Sonata” is a favorite for me because over the last year, and after many attempts, I actually learned the song.  It is difficult piece for me because it is in a key that I do not normally play, and as if that were not enough, there are more “accidentals” than should be, “theoretically” allowed.  

However, this morning, I had almost competed my prelude when a song came to mind:  “My Tribute” by Andre Crouch.   The song has been a favorite of mine since high school, when the organist at my church would play it on a regular rotation as her offertory solo.  I learned the song on piano, and is one of the few songs that I actually have memorized.   The song, instrumentally, is stunning, but the words are incredible, too.  

“How can I say thanks, for the things you have done for me, things so undeserved, yet you give to prove your love for me.  The voices of a million angels could not express my gratitude.   All that I am and ever hope to be, I owe it all to you.  To God be the Glory, To God be the Glory, To God be the glory for the things He has done.   With his blood, he has saved me, with his power, he has raised me.  To God be the Glory, for the things he has done.  Just let me live my life, let it be pleasing unto you, And should I gain any praise, let it go to Calvary.   With his blood, he has saved me, with his power, he has raised me.  To God, be the glory, for the things he has done.”   

I played the song this morning, partially in tribute (no pun intended) to my Grandmother and Great Grandmother, who would, were they still alive, be celebrating their birthdays tomorrow.   I have played the song since college, most often from memory.  It is my “go-to” song when I’ve had a bad day.  Just playing it and playing the heck out of the piano with it do something to me that no other piece of music does.  The thing I like about the song is that while I stay generally in the same “framework” of the song, I never play it the same twice.   I have a friend from college who would come into the practice room just to hear me play the song, and she said what she liked is that it is never the same twice.   Maybe slower, maybe faster, it really depends on how my inner spirit leads.  

Tonight, I am doing something I have never done in my blog before.   I’m posting a video.   I felt inspired to record and share tonight… This is “My Tribute”.  While you see music cluttering the piano, this is completely from memory.  It’s raw video…unedited, and played straight from my heart.  

Here’s my confession: Piano is my greatest passion.  I cannot imagine life without it, and, while sometimes I neglect practicing like I should,  I’m blessed to have the talents that I’ve been given, and I’m thankful for those who are touched by my blessings.   My most treasured possession is the piano you see in the video.  I had a few tears in my eyes the day I drove away from the piano store purchasing the piano, knowing that not only was it a dream come true for me, but that my grandmother was looking down from above and smiling, because it’s something she wanted me to have, too.  

MEMORABLE MOMENTS: Where were you when…

Every generation has those events that are defining moments…those moments when major historical events happen and you know automatically where you were when they happened.   I thought it would be an interesting retrospective to look back at a few of the major events over the last 40 years.  I can think of three chilling events, each of which most of the people my age can tell you exactly where they were when they heard or saw the news. 

Assassination attempt on President Ronald Reagan: March 30, 1981.   I was home sick from school that day.   I recall vividly the news coverage.   Back in those days, we didn’t have 24-hour Cable News.  This was probably the first major historic event of my life.   All three major networks, ABC, CBS and NBC, as I recall, had non-stop coverage. 

Space Shuttle Challenger Disaster: January 28, 1986.  We were out of school that day because of snow, so I was at home watching it on TV. The most vivid memory I have of the disaster is my father calling my mother, who was at work and he said, “it…just…blew up.” There was nothing at all on television the rest of the day except coverage of this event. This was a major space shuttle mission because the long-awaited mission of a schoolteacher, Christa McAuliffe, who was to be the first teacher in space.   

The Twin Towers: September 11, 2001:  This terrorist attack occurred on the morning of what is now famously called “9/11”.  I was driving to work when I heard on the radio of a plane crash in New York City, which had hit the Twin Towers, the World Trade Center.   I remember vividly, I was on I-65 North traveling heading into downtown.  I called my partner, Edward, who was still at home and told him to quickly turn on the news—that something major was going on in New York.   As the minutes, hours and days ahead would unfold, we would learn what an incredible act of terror this was, many thousands would lose their lives not only in New York, but in additionally with a plane crash into the Pentagon in Washington, DC, and the crashing of a plane in Pennsylvania field.  

Here’s my confession:  These tragic events have defined a generation.   To those of us who were living when these events occurred, there is no denying their impact.   Like my parents’ generation, who recall the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in 1963, the three events above are my generation’s “Where were you when…” And those are things you just never forget. 

THE GREATEST INFLUENCE

While I have given my grandmother many mentions in my blog, and she was no doubt a great influence in my life, there is someone else who means the world to me and has influenced me in several areas of my life.   Tonight, I break my own rule of changing names to tell you about my teacher and friend, Mrs. Vera W. Scarbrough. 

I suppose I have known Vera all my life.   She taught both my mother and aunt in high school, she even played the piano at my parents’ wedding.  I first became personally acquainted with her in 1988 when I joined the Baptist church, where she has been the organist for the church for many years. 

When I was a sophomore in high school, I transferred to the school where she taught.   Truth be told, she is one of the reasons I begged my parents to allow me to transfer.  I knew that I would get a better education at a smaller school and somehow felt that she would be a great part of it.  I had Vera for Advanced English II, III and IV.   I always say that she is the very best teacher I have ever had, yet her approach to teaching is nothing less than unorthodox.   Over the years, I’ve wracked my brain to remember how she taught us anything.  I think that is the characteristic of the best teachers—they teach you things and you don’t even know you’re learning.  It wasn’t all about verbs, nouns and prepositions, nor was it all about Shakespeare, Chaucer or even Hemmingway or Lee.  She could stand in her classroom and talk about nothing (a little something she called “birdwalking”) for 50 minutes and then the bell would ring.  Over the three years I spent in her classroom, I was more than prepared for college.  She was a tough teacher, but very fair.  If she saw potential in you, you better bet she was going to push you to do your very best—or else. 

When I started at OHS, I was a very shy kid.   Vera knew that.  Yet, she seemed to make it her mission to bring me out of my shell as much as possible.   I took her Drama class my second semester there, tried out and was cast in the 1990 school play.   While it didn’t bust me all the way out of my shell, I think it at put a crack that couldn’t be repaired, and that was a good thing.  She, more than anyone I’ve ever known, endeavored to instill in me a sense of self-confidence, self-esteem and worth.  She recently told me the story of the first paper I ever turned into her and she gave it back full of red marks, she said I was completely crushed.   Yet, she said she saw potential in me, and made it her mission to make me live up to it. I think because I had known her for so long, I feared not living up to her expectations for me.  

Our relationship outside the classroom was very good as well.   As the organist at my church, she is the first one who gave me the chance to fill in for her.  I will not forget that as long as I live.   Sunday, June 17, 1990, I was filling in at the organ, with her blessing.   She not only was fellow church member and my English teacher, she is the mother of one of my oldest, and dearest friends, the one I refer to as “Morgan” in my blog.  

Here’s my confession: Were it not for Vera’s dedication as a teacher, educator, mentor, and most of all, friend, I don’t know where I would be today.   She has taught me lessons too concrete to be found in any textbook.   Vera has a personality larger than life, and I think that’s what sets her apart as an educator.  I have never known a single person to ever come out of her classes and say “God, I hate Mrs. Scarbrough.  She’s a terrible teacher.”  Instead, how rare is it to have everyone say “She’s the best teacher I ever had.  She cared about me.”  She retired a few years ago, and I think that’s a shame, because talents like hers are one in a million. If she taught us nothing else, we all learned that “a lot is two words.”   I could expound upon her passion and influence for days, but I’ll digress.   There are several people in my life of whom I think every single day.   I can honestly say that Vera is one of them.   While I have not been in her English class for over 21 years, her influence in my writing is still alive and well today.   Actually, I’m almost afraid to post this, because I know that I probably haven’t followed all of the mechanics of the language, but who cares?  I already had a love for writing when I got to her, but she made me strive to be my best.  My blog is a result of her hard work.   This is a loving tribute to a lady, who second only to my late Grandmother, has touched my life in ways that words fail.   

SPIRITUALLY SPEAKING

I did not grow up in a house where my parents took me to church, yet, I always knew about Jesus and church for several reasons.  First of all, I don’t know that one can grow up in the southern part of the United States “The Bible Belt” and NOT know about church.  My maternal grandmother was a regular churchgoer.  I have paternal cousins who were involved with church.  My maternal great grandmother and paternal grandfather did not attend church, but were always tuning in to the television teaching programs of, among others, Herbert W. Armstrong who was a television and radio evangelist and founder of the Worldwide Church of God.  I would regularly see these grandparents studying the Bible.

I would attend church with my cousins sometimes, and would attend Vacation Bible School every summer when I visited my grandmother.  On occasion, my dad would take me to church when I would ask.  Yet, it wasn’t until Junior High school that I, myself, became involved in church.  I joined my Aunt Jean’s church and was baptized on April 3, 1988, which just happened to be Easter Sunday that year. My parents and grandparents attended my baptism.  I still vividly recall my father sobbing the entire time.  To this day still really have no idea what that was about, and I never felt inclined or comfortable enough to ask.  I quickly became involved in the youth group of the church, choir, Sunday school…you name it, I was involved.   While church was something I did, it was something I did apart from my parents.  They would attend special events—maybe a Christmas or Easter cantata, but otherwise, they supported my decision to go to church, but were not involved themselves.   I was there every Sunday morning, Sunday night and Wednesday.   When I became able to play piano for church, I was doing that.  Church was my thing. It’s what I did. I graduated from high school and went off to a Southern Baptist –affiliated college, thinking that would a safe harbor for my budding spiritual and intellectual mind. 

 

When I arrived at my quaint college in the hills of southeastern Kentucky, the veil was quickly lifted that not everyone there was necessarily “Christian”.  The Utopia I had imagined did not exist, however, I would spend the next 5 years there and loving every minute of it.  We were required to attend chapel or “convocation” as it was called, every Monday at 10 am.   Everything on the campus stopped at that time on Monday morning for convocation.  It really didn’t matter if you were a Christian or not—you were going to be in chapel. 

 

While in college, I began coming to terms with my sexual orientation and how that related to my spiritual journey.   After coming out, my spiritual journey led me to the United Methodist church before I graduated from college.   I found a place of peace for my soul there, with the high liturgical service, comforting messages from the pulpit that applied to my life, and music that provided a balm to my hurting soul.   When I moved to Birmingham after I graduated, I tried several United Methodist churches in the city and couldn’t find the same experience I’d had in Knoxville. 

My first and then-partner, Edward, is Catholic, so I started attending mass with him.   I had no intention to become Catholic, but I soon found myself singing in the choir, and, in the fall of 1999 sitting in the RCIA class, which is the class leading to membership in the Catholic church.  At the Easter Saturday mass in 2000, I was received into full communion with the Roman Catholic Church, receiving the sacraments of Confirmation and Holy Eucharist. 

I’m often asked why, given the Catholic Church’s stance on homosexuality, how I can align myself with the church.  My answer is that I am, as most American Catholics, a “Cafeteria Catholic”.  It’s a fact I readily admit.  I pick and choose the teachings of the church I agree with and ignore those with which I disagree.   After all, God gave me a sound mind and the ability to reason and make my own decisions.  Since my coming out in 1996 and fully accepting and learning to love the person I believe God created me to be, I truly cannot reconcile that God hates me.  I do love the rich liturgy and tradition of the Church, and I would not be a part of a church that would make God out to be anything other than loving.

 

“So, what about the Bible?” I’m asked.  "What about it?", I say.  It’s simple.  I don’t take it literally word for word, but rather from a historical context, and try to interpret its teachings for the modern day.  Language and culture have changed since the “Bible” came into being.   To some of you, I’m bordering, if I haven’t already crossed over, into heresy.   However, taking the Bible literally word for word makes no sense to me.  That is how I relate to God.

 

While I am proud to call myself a Catholic, I’ll also readily admit that I am very eclectic in my spiritual life.   I attend mass, I work for a Catholic church as a musician, but if I were to change “denominations” within Christendom, I would most certainly become an Episcopalian.  It has all the beauty and integrity of the Catholic mass, with just enough of my protestant roots to keep me satisfied.   Another thing I’ll admit is that I also find wisdom in Buddhism.  Again, call me a heretic, but if you really look closely at the CENTRAL teachings of Christ and Buddha (which, by the way, predates Christianity), they both taught of the one thing there is just too little of-LOVE.   It’s that simple, my friends.  LOVE.  The TRUTH of the matter is that Christ wasn’t a Christian and Buddha wasn’t a Buddhist.   Yet, we should strive to follow their teachings, because they lead us to love and enlightenment, which is what they both taught.

 

Here’s my confession:  My grandfather always said that you don’t bring up two issues: Religion and Politics.   Well, I won’t delve into politics, but I can’t stay silent about religion (or spirituality as I like to call it), because it is an integral part of who I am.  I believe that regardless of what we call ourselves—Christian, Buddhist, Muslim, Protestant, Catholic or any of thousands of other possibilities, we are all trying to travel the same road, with the same destination in mind, to get to our creator, to get “home”, as it were.   How do I reconcile my faith with my sexual orientation?   I don’t have a concrete answer for that, but I know that when I let go of fighting and questioning God, that is when I found peace in my spirit, and I don’t think that it’s some lie of the “devil” either.  I truly believe that I have experienced a supreme being in my life. I’m indeed a spiritual being living a human life, and if we are really honest, aren't we all?    

WHY THE BOWTIE?

“How did you come to start wearing bowties?”

I can’t say exactly when or why I developed a fascination with bowties, but I think it began in late 2010.  I had a friend or two who wore them, and I was intrigued.   I went to a bal in early 2011 and ordered a bowtie and vest.  The bow, I must shamefully admit, was a pre-tied bowtie.    However, later that same year, I purchased my first couple of bowties at Belk, with the intention of learning to tie them.   I worked with a guy who was really good at tying them, and he attempted to teach me, but it just never took.  I could tie them around my neck and slip them on, but that wasn’t good enough for me.   I must have watched every video known to man on the subject.  So, I finally asked a friend for help. After sitting in my car—of all places—for no more than 15 minutes, I had the basics down and was told to go home and try it on my own.   I did, and the monster was unleashed.

I now have a collection of around thirty or so bowties.   And, I will proudly admit that I can tie a bowtie in about 1 minute—without looking in the mirror.   It’s actually easier for me to tie a bow time than a regular necktie now.  

So, WHY THE BOWTIE?   The bowtie is a classic and versatile accessory.   It can be used for a formal occasions such as a wedding, funeral, banquet or can even be used to dress up a pair of jeans and button down shirt.   While there several people who despise the bowtie, the vast majority of people say that not only do I know how to wear a bow tie, I own it and rock it.  At least I’m good at something!

Here’s my confession: Love it or Lump it, my bow tie is here to stay.  Contrary to common misconception, I don’t wear a bow tie every day.   In fact, I haven’t worn a bowtie to work yet since I began my job in early May.  I mainly wear the bowtie on Sundays to play for church, etc.   I generally get a far more positive reaction to this versatile accessory.  

BIGGEST LIFE-CHANGING EVENT

“What has been your biggest life-changing event?”

This is another great question.  Certainly, nearing 40, I’ve had many life experiences that could be dubbed “life changing”.   There’s my conversion to Catholicism, Loss of Relationships, Jobs, going to college.  

While losing a job or a relationship certainly rank up there in the “life-changing” spectrum, and certainly a religious experience is no doubt going to change one’s life.  I believe the single most life-changing event that has had an effect on me is the death of my grandmother, Ann.  April 17, 2000 my life changed forever.  We were very close, even in the aftermath of my coming out.  I choose her death as my biggest life-changing event because even now, 13 years later, not a single, solitary day has passed in which I haven’t thought of her, remembered her.  

Grandmother is the only member of my family that I ever truly felt close to.  She, perhaps more than anyone in my family, “got me”. As a child, she doted on me. Visits to her house in the summer or during school breaks were fun.  We would see movies, she would take me bowling, and we would go to church.   We just had so much fun.   I’m sure she said “no” a few times, but I held the distinction of being her first-born grandson, and, admittedly, her favorite.   She made sure to write me letters (I think this is where my love of writing was born…especially of letters).   She would send me “care packages” throughout college.   Besides doting on me, to me she was the definition of style, grace and class.  She was a high school drop out (with only about 6 weeks of school left), but she was a brilliant lady and I think she was quite beautiful.

Although I know that it was her time to pass from death to life, I will forever wonder what our relationship would have been like had we been given a few more years.   I am not close to my family now.   Yet, I wonder if we had a few more years what might have been different.  Would she have really embraced her “gay” grandchild?   Would she have been the glue that kept the family together?   I have no doubt that we would speak very often.  We would probably be closer now than we ever were.

Here’s my confession:  I owe so much of who I am to this beautiful, classy lady that I was blessed to call my grandmother.   Oh, we had differences of opinions about some things, but generally we were seeing eye to eye.   She instilled in me a love for things that are lasting such as music and writing.   I would not be the pianist I am today were it not for her teaching me the foundations of piano, giving me a piano and seeing that I was able to take lessons.   From a very young age, she instilled a love for writing letters.  I remember getting letters from her as a youngster and proudly writing back as early as the third grade.  

Her death has left a void that nothing but my memories of her can fill.   I know that she is with me each and every single day.  While no longer in the physical realm, she is with me spiritually.   Why do I choose her death as the biggest life-changing event?   Because the day she moved from this life I lost my grandmother, my biggest cheer leader and advocate, and most of all, my friend. 

ON BEING AN ONLY CHILD

I grew up as an only child.   Not only was I an only child, but I was the oldest grandson on my mother’s side of the family by seven years and youngest on my father’s side of the family by nearly 4 years.  I didn’t really have a lot of childhood friends, either.   I spent afternoons after school mostly with my paternal grandfather.  During the summer I spent time staying with both sets of grandparents and my great grandmother.   So, to me, it was quite normal to be in my own little world, playing alone.  

By all accounts, I was a good kid, I didn’t often get in trouble, because I didn’t often do anything wrong. My lack of siblings and playmates my own age, I suppose, seemed completely normal to me.   I never went to other kids’ houses, so I didn’t know what their home lives were like.   All I knew is that I didn’t have any siblings, and no matter how much I begged, that a sibling was not happening. 

When I went off to college, I interacted more closely with friends who had siblings and close-knit families.   If I’m being completely honest, it was a foreign concept to me.   I first of all couldn’t understand why my friends would want to go home and spend time with their parents, and secondly, I didn’t understand the bond that siblings (generally) have.  Throughout the course of my college years and beyond, I think I have gained some amazing friends who are very much like siblings to me.  

I think there is a general misconception of “the only child”.   Speaking completely from my own experience, the only child doesn’t get everything they want.   My parents by and large had no problems telling me “no”.   I didn’t have the finest clothes, I didn’t get a brand new car when I started driving—I didn’t even get to take my driver license until about 3 months after my 16^th birthday.   While I’m on the subject of my 16^th birthday—it was a completely normal day.  The only thing I asked for was a cake from Kroger (grocery store, butter cream icing and possibly a cartoon character or something decorating it.   What I got instead was a Pineapple Upside Down Cake because that’s my mother’s special cake.   It was still disappointing because I only wanted a cake from Kroger for Christ’s sake!  I distinctly recall a “heart to heart” with my father about how I would eat the Pineapple Upside Down Cake, and I would enjoy it.   And so it was.

Here’s my confession:  My childhood was generally one spent playing alone, left to my imagination in our fenced back yard as a kid, I do recall playing with toy cars and construction equipment.   I suppose it was not a bad childhood, but looking back, I think it would be completely safe to say that it was less than ideal.   Now, as I am getting older, and while my parents are still relatively young to have an almost-forty year old son,  (My mother is 59 and my father is 62) there are more moments than not that I wish I had a brother or sister, someone who could possibly understand my parents, and, well, yes, someone to pawn off the responsibility of taking care of them when they get older. 

While the likelihood of my having children is slim to none, I would do my very best to plan on having two children, mainly so they kids could have a full experience of childhood.

I don’t think I have any major regrets, but I do often wonder “what if”?   

50 THINGS TO ACCOMPLISH BEFORE 50

Personal

1. Fall in love
2. Give a piano recital
3. Write letters
4. Write and publish a book
5. Don’t sweat the small stuff
6. Get a will, purchase a cremation niche and plan my funeral
7. Broaden my food palate
8. Blog regularly
9. Be punctual
10. Laugh often

Financial

1. Buy a house
2. Pay off credit cards and keep them paid off
3. Treat myself, but don’t go overboard
4. Give to Charities
5. Pay myself first, learn to save
6. Use Coupons
7. Give spontaneous financial gifts to those less fortunate
8. Pay for a complete stranger’s meal
9. Invest
10. Sell things I do not need

Travel/Leisure

1. Get a passport
2. Travel to Europe
3. Visit London
4. Visit Ireland
5. Visit Paris
6. Visit friends throughout the US
7. Go to Cedar Point (Amusement park) again
8. Plan and enjoy an adventure with someone I love
9. Create my own version of “Eat, Pray, Love”
10. Make connections and friendships

Health, Fitness & Wellness

1. Run a 5K (completely)
2. Be consistent in working out
3. Eat the right foods
4. Continue to grow in my practice of Yoga
5. Push my self-imposed limitations
6. Keep a journal of my progress
7. Don’t be so hard on myself that I make myself miserable
8. Learn to cook
9. Get massages
10. Keep my maini and pedi up to date

Educational

1. Learn a foreign language
2. Learn to crochet
3. Learn calligraphy
4. Learn about wine
5. Learn how to meditate
6. Learn to dance
7. Learn to swim
8. Earn a master’s degree
9. Read books I should have read in high school
10. Teach someone something I know

Here’s my confession: While the list above is probably not completely a completely exhaustive list of what I would like to accomplish in my 40s, it is a good place to start.   The list is organized in no particular order or priority.  Many of the things on the list are things that I’ve already started doing, but want to encourage myself to continue to keep moving forward.   Oh, and goal #41?   Don’t be afraid to re-evaluate the list and make changes where necessary.