Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

Be Better, Not Bitter

In service of my family, I have spent the majority of the month of August on the road - thousands of miles driven, thousands of miles in the air.  The month culminated with moving Kendall from Dallas to Boston to begin her stint at Harvard.  And while much has happened in the world the past 31 days, and I have wanted to sit at the keyboard, there simply has not been time.  

That being said, while driving home yesterday, the final leg of my travels, I listened to the service being held in Arizona for Senator John McCain - one of many memorials, observances, and honors being held for him leading up to his final rest at the U.S. Naval Academy on Sunday.  And getting to my keyboard was high in my mind.

John McCain was not a perfect person, in fact, the first person to call out John McCain was John McCain.  Politically, I stand on the opposite aisle.  I know his past, his foibles, his penchant for profanity, his responsibility for foisting Sarah Palin upon us all.  

I also know his heart, his humanity, his dogged determination to adhere to a code quite alien to most of his younger colleagues.  

Those are the things that were repeated as speaker after speaker took the podium yesterday in Phoenix.

McCain was remembered as a friend, a confidante, a bad driver. But what resounded the most was him being remembered for daring to not only acknowledge the other side, but crossing to stand with them.  Tommy Espinoza, a longtime friend and godfather of one of McCain's sons, remembered early on in their relationship when John asked him to co-chair his first Senatorial campaign.

Tommy reminded McCain he was a Democrat.

McCain's response?  "I don't care, you're my friend.  I want you to co-chair it."

Fast forward through the years to McCain running for President.  He asked Tommy to speak on his behalf at the Republican National Convention.

"Senator, I want to remind you I'm a DEMOCRAT."

McCain's reply, "I don't care, you're my friend, I want you there."  Then he added with a sly smile, "Watch out when you start your car."

There were many anecdotes like this during the service.  Moments of laughter, for sure, but moments that served to remind everyone that McCain simply did not care about the optics.  He was a throwback to when bipartisanship was an active endeavor, not a dirty word.  When disagreeing on the politics did not preclude being friends with "the other side."

I was most moved by the words spoken by Joe Biden - a long time friend from that other side.  He began his speech with the words, “My name is Joe Biden. I’m a Democrat.  And loved John McCain."  

For over two decades the two men tangled in the Senate when their views clashed on important issues, yet their friendship only deepened and endured.  They both understood loss, suffering, anguish, sacrifice - from a very personal place.  They both came from a time when the Senate and the house were places of respect, higher ideals, and a common goal - the betterment of this experiment called the United States of America.

I laughed as Biden recounted them receiving awards for bipartisanship and civility in politics.  "John and I looked at each and said, ‘What the hell is going on here?’"

These two men were there when it all began to turn to shit.  They both remembered in the 90s being cautioned about sitting with one another in the Senate, as they often did.  Because it didn't look good. They both knew things were sliding into an abyss where shouting would become a norm, where questioning an opponent's patriotism would become commonplace, where so much as crossing that invisible line would draw swift rebuke from your side.

Like so many, Joe Biden has been reflecting on just why McCain's death has caused such a national pause.  Well, at least such a pause among those who understand it is possible to champion a cause while not threatening others with violence or death.  (The hatred, vitriol, and disrespect from the MAGAt population has been vomit inducing.)

McCain, for all his faults, was a lion, much like Teddy Kennedy, with whom he shared the cancer that took them both, with whom he also served.  A public servant with wisdom, depth, experience, intelligence, and an understanding that this nation is not great unless it is great for ALL OF US.

What slithers through the House and Senate now - yes, slithers, as there is not much backbone to be found, is far more interested in currying favor, clinging to power, and lining their pockets.  "We the people..." for them is "WE, the people who matter..."  

Joe Biden spoke of McCain's optimism.  "John was a hero, his character, courage, honor, integrity. I think it is understated when they say optimism. That's what made John special. Made John a giant among all of us. In my view, John didn't believe that America's future and faith rested on heroes. we used to talk about, he understood what I hope we all remember, heroes didn't build this country. Ordinary people being given half a chance are capable of doing extraordinary things, extraordinary things. John knew ordinary Americans understood each of us has a duty to defend, integrity, dignity and birthright of every child."

It is evident in the planning and thought he put into his own arrangements, that he was sending a final message to this country: Be better, not bitter.  THat we are so much better than where we currently stand.  So many of his choices, including Trump being barred from his services, clear rebukes of Trump and the scourge of his venality. The speakers in Arizona - true friends, despite being a D rather than an R.  Opponents who beat him in Presidential races  - George Bush and Barack Obama were personally asked by McCain to deliver eulogies on Saturday.  One of his pallbearers for the D.C. service is his friend and Russian dissident, Vladimir Kara-Murza.  Others include Biden, Defense Secretary Mattis, Gary Hart, even long time friend Warren Beatty throughout the various services.  

Reaching out.  Striving to do better, be better.  

Joe Biden summed it up. "Bottom line was, I think John believed in us. I think he believed in the American people. not just all the preambles, he believed until the American people, all 325 million of us. Even though John is no longer with us, he left us clear instructions. ‘Believe always in the promise and greatness of America because nothing is inevitable here.’" 

All 325 million of us.

That means the poor, the wealthy, the blue collar, the white collar, the pink collar, the spectrum of the LGBTQIA rainbow, every pew of every religion, black people, brown people, white people, ALL people.  

This is what will win out.  There are far more clearheaded, openhearted, farsighted voters than there are regressive MAGAts.  Momentum is forward, despite the desperate attempt to pull us backwards.  And the Trumps of this country, this world, will not win in the end.  We the people, will prevail and continue to form a more perfect union.  

Trump is an anomaly, a tumor on the body politic.  But if his ascension has had one positive note, it is that his hypocrisy, his bile, his ignorance, his disdain for this country - all things McCain openly despised in him - have served to galvanize those who had previously stood, uninterested, uninvested, on the side.

John McCain will never be remembered as perfect.  But he will be remembered.  As a war hero who famously said "I fell in love with my country when I was a prisoner in someone else's."  As a father, husband, colleague, friend.  And as a fierce force in the halls of Washington.

I agree with Joe Biden, "To paraphrase Shakespeare, we shall not see his like again."

RIP, Senator.  Crank the ABBA and watch while we carry on.

This Is Parenting

You stand there.

Then you embrace. 

Your heart can feel theirs, beating faster. 

As the hug grows longer, you dare to speak, defying the tennis ball in your throat that is barely holding back the dam.

You struggle to find words, some syllables that will cut through their fear, will into them some of your strength.

And in that moment, one of your weakest, as you’re feeling the pain of ripping a piece of your heart out, you do find strength.

Because you have to. Because this is your job, your privilege, your life’s best work.

Because you are a parent.  

After so many goodbyes, one could be forgiven for thinking it gets easier. It does not. Especially when you are leaving them in a new place, facing new beginnings.

A wise friend wrote these words to me this morning as we commiserated via message while I waited for my flight. She, too, just experienced the pride mixed with pain as she left her daughter to begin her college journey.

“I was deep thinking this last night. Admittedly I’m not as eloquent as you both, but my takeaway is this - you can either love and then feel that deep, profound pain that goes with it when there’s “loss” or decide it is all too much and live in a void.

There’s no half-way when loving our people. Especially our kids. They are literally part of us. So we have those highest highs and the lowest lows.“

There is no half-way.

She is right. From the moment I first held them, I realized I was beginning my watch. Defending them with my life, giving them my life. Discovering I could love without limits, experience profound joy, crushing pain, and that I would never stop.

There is unmatched pride in seeing them excel, move forward, tackle life head on. It is what you have prepared them to do. But it means seeing the back of them as they walk away. It means they must see the back of you, too, as you leave them to their new world of discoveries.

You knowing they can do it is far different than them knowing they can do it.  They must live it, feel it, wrestle it, best it first.

The hug continues, tighter, as you desperately try to transfer your strength, your support, your love.

You feel them shake, you hear them trying so hard to hold back the tears. Which only makes you want to cry even more.

You feel them melt into your embrace knowing they are caught in that brutal place between wanting to be an adult, yet yearning for the childhood safety found in your orbit, in your arms.

One more squeeze, one more whispered I love you, one more reminder that you are only a phone call away.

Then you let go.

Because you have to.

You smile. You turn. You walk away.

Then and only then, when they cannot see your face do you let the first tear fall.

And through your pained tears, there is a small smile born of pride, born of love.

In this moment, you feel it all, you have no choice.

There is no half-way.

This is parenting. ❤️

~~~~~~~

For Kendall, Kelly, Liz and every parent & child facing their fears and their goodbyes during this season of new beginnings.

Branching Out

Back in April, in an open letter to my children called Life Is Not A Palm Tree, I wrote these words to Kendall:

Finally, Kendall, I saved you for last because your crossroads are here, your struggle is so present, your potential new branches fighting hard against the ivy that wishes to contain them, keep you growing like a palm tree.  I get it.  It is self imposed pruning born of a fierce need to control your path.  For years in my young life I intentionally cut off my own branches, intent on thwarting life.  I can tell you now, what remains in those spaces are lost opportunities, untapped resources, adventures that were never allowed to unfurl.  And regret.

At that time she was facing a huge crossroads and making what, on the surface, seemed to everyone else to be an easy decision.  Accept an offered spot at Harvard, or not.

Yes, I know it seems like a no brainer to be offered this all brainer opportunity.  But it wasn't.

Ken has had her path set in her mind for years.  Her goal, which she will attain, is her doctorate.  But in an applicant field of equally amazing candidates, she was pulling first waitlist - bridesmaid, not bride.  Encouraged by her boss at UTSW, she applied to the Masters in Public Health program at Harvard.  I am not kidding when I say it was her "back pocket" school.

But based on a stellar college CV, a two year stint at UT Southwestern Medical Center, and a nonstop movement forward in being published, the email came.  Harvard wanted Kendall.

But could Kendall want Harvard?

We are all very different animals.  It's what makes us interesting, challenging, easygoing, or bullheaded.  That last one finds many of us pruning our lives to fit a shape we simply will not release from our minds.

Pruning is control.  Whether we do it to a literal tree or bush, or to ourselves, pruning forces a shape, a destination, a plan.  But real life is not found in the discarded branches.  It is found in the leaves, buds, thorns, and blossoms.  It is also found in the fear.

She comes by it honestly - I am a blazing example of not wanting to be forced off my path, pushed to detour, or have to alter my plans.

The decision you face now is not deadly, but it may retard growth.  It is a branch full of potential, an off ramp you did not plan, and only you can decide its fate.  I would love to be your personal gardener, but that time is past.  You hold the shears, the choices are all yours.  I can only support you.  And I do, fully, always, without question.

In this case, supporting truly meant having to step completely back.  This one had to be hers - fully, always, without question.

I have raised you all to understand that "screaming at a wall will never move the wall."  That sometimes the only path is to go around the wall, take the forced detour.  I live in a place now where I see actual trees living that truth - trees as tall as palms, yet with unexpected branches along their paths upward, literal curves in their trunks as they accommodated what life threw, or grew, at them.  In them, I see you, Kendall.  They are Aspens.  They grow, they see, they adapt, they move upward and onward, and they ultimately tower and bloom.  They do get where they are intent on going.

When the decision finally came, it was all hers.   

I am sitting on a plane, 30,000 feet in the clouds, next to Harvard's newest grad student, and pride is simply not a big enough word.

Growing a new branch is difficult for a tree, and a tree knows how to tree.  Growing a new branch when it means uprooting your entire life, saying goodbye to your friends, leaving a job you loved, and agreeing to keep a love alive long distance, can seem impossible.  

But she is doing it.

Almost 25 years ago she came into this world pissed off because it had not been a time of her choosing.  But soon enough she adapted, took her place, and began to grow.  As with her siblings, it has been humbling to have a front row seat to every adventure, crisis, triumph, setback, laugh, and tear.  

Leaving her in a few days will feel like the first round of college all over again - a feeling shared by so many across this country.  But I have one advantage.  I have seen what happens when she plants herself and roots begin to grow, buds emerge and flower.

The final words in that April piece were these:

As you each continue your growth, my breath remains held for your happiness, your health, your well being, your successes.  And my heart wishes you the firm knowledge, born from the experiences of unexpected lessons, that your lives are not palm trees.  Let them grow where they may, seek the sun through the shadows, and branch as fully and freely as they can.  

I cannot wait to see your new branches reach out and be embraced by the Ivy League.

But for now, at 30,000 feet, I am just happy to be sitting beside you, along for the ride, choking back tears of pride, joy, and immeasurable love.

 

 

Mama, Can I Get Another Amen?

Last night something historic happened.  For the first time, a transgender candidate won a major party nomination for governor.  Her name is Christine Hallquist of Vermont.

She beat three other Democratic hopefuls.

Annise Parker, the chief executive of the L.G.B.T.Q. Victory Fund said, “Christine’s victory is a defining moment in the movement for trans equality and is especially remarkable given how few out trans elected officials there are at any level of government.” 

Representation.

I have written before about the importance of seeing one's self reflected in media, movies, government.  It is especially important for those segments who have lived their lives searching in vain for someone, anyone in the public eye with whom they may relate.  From people of color seeing their skintones or hair textures in advertisements. to seeing Idris Elba play James Bond (someone help me with the ^&*%$ pearl clutching going on about this), to a gay man seeing an on screen kiss between two men, representation is validation.  Validation that you exist, that you are not alone, that you matter.

And while strides have absolutely been made in cinema and stage, TV shows, etc for many spots of the spectrum, the T in LGBT is still largely pilloried, ignored, or misunderstood. (Yes, there have been some good shows like Hedwig, The Danish Girl, Transparent.)  

As a cis het white woman, I can tell you that I see myself everywhere.  Ads, soap operas, rom coms are replete with me.  I roam the City looking for Sex; I have 50 First Dates and more; I crash My Best Friend's Wedding; and My Star will be Born again this Thanksgiving. I am well represented.

As the mother of a pansexual, transgender son, I can tell you that he is not.  He is targeted, he is misunderstood, he is parodied, he is fringed, but he is not represented.  So I can also tell you that when someone steps up, steps out, unashamedly trans, unapologetic about their place on the spectrum - it means so much more to him than me seeing Reese Witherspoon win another dude on the big screen.

Christine Hallquist represents hope.  She represents growing understanding, acceptance.  She represents a trans identity not being the sole focus, the defining characteristic of who she is as a human being.

Yet as she spends today marveling at last night's results, she, like me, is also looking at a school in Oklahoma, closed for two days because of violent threats made against a 7th grade transgender Oklahoma student named Maddie.  By adults.

The original post online was made by brain trust Jamie Crenshaw and read: “Heads up parents of 5th through 7th grade. The transgender is already using the girls bathroom. We have been told how the school has gone above and beyond to make sure he has his own restroom yet he is still using the girls. REALLY… Looks like its going to be a long year.”

What poured forth was a vile display of ignorance, aggression, and threats.

“If he wants to be a female, make him a female,” one user wrote. “A good sharp knife will do the job really quick.” Another post read, “You know we have open hunting seasons on them kind. Ain’t no bag limit either.”

They referred to her as "maggot" "thing" and "it."  They - fuck that - THEY have names and are so proud of their ignorance and attacks on a child, so let's use their names.  

Gina Segraves called her "it."

Ty Hays called her a "half baked maggot."

Seth and Shelby Cooper bragged of encouraging their children to beat Maddie till she stopped coming to school.

Eddie McCroskey warned that "this is what our future is if WE don't stop it."

Stop exactly what, you witless, shitless coward?  A child from being who they are?  Good luck with that.  You don't get a choice in who your child actually is.  And while I used to wish an LGBT child on cretins like this, I no longer do, because I do not wish these cretins on an LGBT child.

And as for the Coopers, fine Christians both?  Way to raise YOUR children there.  Forget education, understanding, empathy, compassion.  Just beat the shit out of whatever/whoever you don't understand.

Maddie is not an "it."  Maddie is a human being.  That is the beginning and the end of it.  That her struggle is so much more gargantuan that any these troglodytes will ever face, only makes her more so.  She is experiencing something profound, confusing, painful, and unending.  She is on a path not of her choosing - no one decides to be transgender any more than they decide to be cis het.  They are simply born that way.  And what she needs is support, validation, therapy, protection, love.  

Everything my son has received.  Everything that has helped him move forward to the full expression of who he is.  Everything that gives him hope to get out of bed each day and pursue his goals, his dreams, his passions.

I promise you Achille Public Schools parents in Oklahoma, Maddie wants only what my son wants out of a bathroom break - to GO.  To wash their hands, to safely leave and return to the activities they were pursuing when nature called.  They do not want to run into anyone, see anyone, spy on anyone.  Transgender people are not pedophiles, perverts, or monsters.  They are PEOPLE.

Be afraid of the kids of parents like Jamie Crenshaw or Ty Hays.  The ones being taught violence, egged on to beat up other students.  Maddie isn't your problem.  Their cherubs are.

I hope, in the fall out of all this extremist ignorance, Maddie watched Christine's victory last night.  I hope it helped her injured young heart to see hope in action.  To see the words "It gets better" brought to life.

Representation.  It matters.

Last week, I was able to attend a concert with my son.  Panic! At The Disco - whose effervescent front man Brendon Urie only recently came out as pansexual - played to a sold out arena - one of many sold out arenas on his current tour.  Toby and I had VIP passes and front row seats - but the magic was happening even before we entered the arena.  Draped in his pansexual flag, Toby took in the other young people, and some not so young, proudly draped in their PRIDE flags.  His eyes were misty at seeing so very many young people unabashedly showing their colors, so many parents proudly standing next to their rainbow wrapped kids.

  

Inside the venue, head nods, smiles, even hugs were exchanged as flags passed flags, as humans lit up at seeing themselves reflected back.  

The concert kicked off with opening act Hayley Kiyoko, known to her fans as the "queen of lesbians" - and she was phenomenal.  But again, out and proud, and representing.  It means something.

When Urie took the stage to kick off a 30 song night that felt like one big party, the sense of inclusion was palpable.  Brendon gives not fuck one what some bigot has to say about his sexuality, about the lives of others.  He lives to embrace, include, represent.  Yes, fame and wealth are great insulators in this world, but he never misses an opportunity to recognize that we are all different, and that the spectrum is a big, beautiful place.  

At the point in the concert when he comes down from the stage to walk the crowd (with security of course), Toby raced to the aisle, still draped in his pan flag.  I watched.  I saw the exact second Urie saw the flag, locked eyes with Toby, and went straight in for an embrace.  That Toby managed to capture it in a Snapchat video is simply testament to a young person's tech ability.

As he made his way back to me, tears in his eyes, mine were wet, too.  And the hug was everything.  (Yes, the one from Brendon, but the one between us as well.)   Seeing yourself represented is one thing.  But being SEEN is a whole other level of acceptance, recognition, LIFE.

That concert brought together young and old, the purple haired to the gray haired, and every amazing place represented on the spectrum.  There was love.  There was joy.  There was acceptance.  There was REPRESENTATION.

I cannot thank people like Christine Hallquist and Brendon Urie enough.  Your bravery, your talent, your passion, your voice - it matters.  It matters to the Maddies of this world, being persecuted and struggling to find their way;  It matters to the teen in the nosebleeds who knows their truth but is still scared to reach out.  It matters to the Tobys who have found their way, but who need reminders on their journey that they, too, matter, are valid, are SEEN.

As for the vile examples of parenting being seen in Oklahoma right now?  They can drown in their hate, their ignorance, their arrogance. We are moving forward without them.  To borrow from Urie, we gotta have "high, high hopes for a living," so I'll "pray for the wicked on the weekend..."

Mama, can I get another amen?