Inability to communicate leads to excommunication

I heard a radio talk show host say: the inability to communicate like an adult leads to excommunication. I found those words rather profound. In the last month having Julian my nephew here with me has caused me to think about my brother more than I have in the last two to three years. I have consciously worked to  put Dan out of my mind so much so that Mom, Dad and I rarely chew on it anymore.

Over the past couple of years I had gotten myself beyond thinking about Dan and his family and in general what his life must be like and whether or not there would ever be a relationship between us again. One can only beat the head against the wall but so long before one passes out or simply stops because of the pain. I also finally thew away the hope that Dan would re-emerge  and ask me back to participate in his life; even in a limited fashion.

I have also flushed the fury that I had whereby I would tell my brother to go **&$%##% himself if he ever reappeared as a way of getting even with him. In thinking about it and praying about it; I realize that a tit for tat response and slamming of the door on my part would make me just as wrong, weak, damaging, hurtful and inept as my brother is. Dan's inability to communicate as an adult has lead to him excommunicating me, his daughter Jasmine, his son Julian and my parents. The damage his actions have caused are irreparable in my opinion. Still at times, I think and I hope. I'm human, who wouldn't?

St. Anselm's Abbey

I spent last weekend in Washington DC at a lovely place called St. Anselm's Abbey, a Benedictine monastery and school for young men grades six through twelve.   I was at the abbey to drop off one of my dearest and oldest friends for his journey into a new life of monastic living and ultimately, God willing the priesthood.  The weekend was enchanting and sad at the same time.




The abbey sits on forty or so acres in the north east section of the city. It is serene, secluded and much like Don Bosco College in Newton New Jersey was when attended summer camp there as a boy. The abbey like Don Bosco generated feelings of warmth and happiness in me. As a guest I was set aside from the monks in what had been at one time the original part of the monastery.  My room was simple but comfortable. More than anything, the place is quiet except for the occasional call to prayer which is done by buzzer or bell.


The monks allow guests who visit to do their own thing; I opted to participate in their monastic routine. This meant I was up at six for six twenty prayer, then breakfast, then mass, then midday prayer, then vespers and finally compline.  I didn't get to midday prayer because on Saturday I went to the National Gallery and on Sunday I left after mass.  I felt it was best if I let my friend Brian get on with it and that wasn't going to happen if he had to worry about me or think about me being there on site.


I found the prayers and the ritual lovely. The prayers were responsive and anyone present could participate. So there were cantors and then the choir and congregation responded and most of the prayers were Psalms which by the very nature of the poetry is beautiful.  I was especially struck during morning prayer that we started while outdoors it was night and by the time prayer concluded the sun had arisen. It was a very refreshing way to start a day.


The visit was bittersweet and as I left I felt a profound sense of loss in leaving my friend Brian there.  I think that this calling is going to work for him and I think the Benedictines of St. Anselm's Abbey are where he needs to be.  Brian is a very gentle and old soul and I'm not sure that the twenty first century world was a good place for him.  St. Anselm's offers him a place of silence, a big city for ministry, wonderful men to share the journey with and a lovely surrounding.

Parenthood

At fifty I find myself as a quasi parent. This is something that I really never considered or saw coming.  My nephew, who is twenty four has moved in. Three days in and we're trying to figure things out and adjust. I know it will be an adjustment for both of us.  In my opinion my nephew isn't well equipped to deal with adulthood just yet.  I don't think he's been well taught.

He arrived with the intention of becoming a truck drive and of going to driving school.  I thought that was an admirable plan. Today we learned that this wasn't going to work out.  My nephews driving record has some problems, some dinks, some points. The trucking companies won't hire him without a clean license; that makes sense.  So, we're now in the process of finding gainful employment.  Time is of the essence, he starts paying me rent on April 1.

My brother and his wife didn't do my nephew any favors. They brought him here from Africa and then placed him under home school house arrest treating him like a little kid and when the going got tough, kicked him out. I have to give my nephew credit, for the last six years he's survived. He has been richly blessed by a very generous woman who selflessly supported and helped my nephew. However, I think young men need strong male role models; something that has been lacking in this young man's life.  

Amendment One

The death of amendment one in North Carolina

There is howling on the right, North Carolina's Amendment One, banning same sex marriage is dead, overturned. Some of the howling is that 61% of the populations will, those who voted in favor, has been discounted. That 61% number is plain wrong; nowhere near that number of residents in North Carolina voted for amendment one, however the fact that anyone voted for it is disturbing. 

Those on the right are angry and perhaps hurt. Their hurt while misguided and unjustified cannot compare to a lifetime of marginalization that my community has endured. I remember vividly the day amendment one passed and the excruciating agony that I felt in the realization that people who I knew, loved, trusted might have voted in a manner to hurt me. Many people who voted for the amendment believe that GLBT people somehow choose to be what they are. Its no more a choice than skin color, hair color or gender but even if it is a choice; it is a personal one, and the majority has no right, according to the US Constitution to abridge that right or choice. 

So today, I feel better knowing that it's over for marriage inequality. For me though its too late. My partner died fourteen years ago and because we weren't married, because it wasn't legal, the financial ramifications on top of the heart break were very devastating. The fact that John's family felt that they could bully me, and did, though we were well prepared legally for his death, made our relationship and partnership less valid. Being able to marry would have added civil validity to our cause.  So today I'm happy knowing that in North Carolina a same sex couple will never again have to face what I faced. 

Nothing better to do

With Ebola breaking out at catastrophic levels, the middle east devolving into World War Three, an economy in major trouble and a plethora of domestic problems; the douche bag on the left Sean Hannity and the war criminal on the right Carl Rove have nothing better to do than talk about a salute.

This would have been vice president of the USA

Middle finger and birthday party brawl and all...

Sarah Palin former Governor of Alaska and Vice Presidential hopeful (middle finger and all)

Not even half of generation out of a single wide. 

Facebook Friends

Social media, social media friends

What happened to you? Did I make you mad?  We were Facebook friends and now we’re not.

To be friends with someone, there has to be mutual respect and open and honest communication. Friendship isn't something that was casual but pleasant many years ago and then turned into a few meals out. That’s acquaintanceship I think.  Additionally, real estate is my businesses so don’t quiz me on the market and then turn around and almost immediately and hire another agent to work for you.  Ask the person that you’re going to hire your questions and share with them your worries and anxieties.  Such ended the virtual and casual ‘friendship’ of Shrub family, really!

I know that I’ve been guilty of taking the “Facebook” thing too far. At the outset; why I friended everyone that I’d ever had a nodding acquaintance with or even so much as heard their name in high school, college or professionally.  It didn't matter if I didn't know them; or like them; or respect them or in some cases of Facebook friendship really admire them.  In the past few years though, I have culled the “Friendships” such that they were.  The varieties of reactions have been interesting. This includes family too.

Steve Hips, an uber-conservative with that annoying bend that he is convinced that he and his kind are the only people going to heaven was one such friend.  This until the Hipster; (not his real name) decided that he had complete and accurate insight as to his hero and modern day messiah, Ronald Reagan. When I was nauseated enough by Stevereno’s posts on Facebook, I deleted him; after of course launching some philosophical hand grenades. Oh it felt good.  Kind of like a virtual orgasm, total release and freedom. Unfortunately, the Hipster felt compelled to then text me until I threatened police intervention.  Stevereno didn't respect me enough to just let me go away, he had to peck, peck, peck a bit more until I was totally pissed off.

As for family, well if you've been following me, I've laid it all out here. Anyhow, here’s the rub, virtual ‘friends’ are not. They are people with whom perhaps there was a brief dalliance or commonality. To trust anyone except the closest intimates with the most trivial and banal of day to day life is just, well, silly now isn't it? The irony of what I do here is not lost on me by the way!