tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42214183399056118162024-02-20T05:15:02.572-05:00Jim Shue's BlogOur lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter. Martin Luther King Jr. (1929 - 1968)James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.comBlogger104125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-36272960700375431782020-03-20T21:20:00.003-04:002020-03-20T21:20:21.606-04:00No Space in the Closet<div class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 22.5px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 3px;">
<span class="s1" style="font-size: 22.53px;">I’ve tried really hard to not be so political - really, I have. But I just can’t with Trump. I’ve always thought he was a charlatan. I couldn’t believe it when he was given a TV show. Then somehow the huckster got himself elected to the presidency. I’ve sat by for three years hoping things would get better. If you are apart of the elite or have the misguided belief that you’re part of that elite then you’ve been overjoyed at the success of the stock market and at how well the business environment has been in this country. That is until the past few weeks when the stock market has completely lost any and all gains made over the past three years. </span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-size: 22.53px;">But now we’re talking <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>about lives being at stake and I’ve lived this nightmare before. In the mid 80’s I watched as thousands of Americans got sick and died. I lived in fear as Reagan sat by and watched, doing nothing. That fear made me go back in to the closet as it was a better choice than the certain death sentence I saw for myself. It wasn’t until groups of protesters forced changes in the way infectious diseases that potential cures were funded and researched. Those activists forced conversations about how HIV/AIDS is transmitted. They forced a better understanding and demanded research into treatments when no one in charge gave a damn. </span></div>
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<span class="s1" style="font-size: 22.53px;">Now here we are thirty years later and another self-serving <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>president is putting countless lives at risk. All over ratings. I’m back to living in fear, only this time it’s much worse. This virus can infect anyone at anytime. In the end the death toll may not be as big percentage wise but </span><span class="s2" style="font-size: 22.53px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">everyone</span><span class="s1" style="font-size: 22.53px;"> will be touched by this. We need someone competent in charge and not the self aggrandizing orange buffoon resident in The White House if for no other reason than to help lead us out of fear. There is no closet to retreat to this time. </span></div>
James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-41489244907772082732018-10-23T22:09:00.002-04:002018-10-23T22:09:53.642-04:00Letting Light in*This was written in June and in draft status until now. Sorry for the delay. I thought it wasn’t finished. I was wrong.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">"The wound is the place where the light enters you"</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">-Rumi</span></b><br />
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The past year has been a difficult one.. over a year ago we received news that my mother had passed away six months prior. Unfortunately I cannot say the delay in receiving the news was all that surprising - but you go on. Work kept me busy as we had been on almost perpetual overtime. Plus to be honest years ago I had anticipated the possibility of not being informed of her passing.<br />
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Then at the beginning of April I was informed that they needed to reduce the workforce at my employer and I would no longer have a job after the middle of May. It was a reduction of one FTE (full time employee) and I was selected to be the one based on the last round of performance evaluations. At first I was more than angry but I can't get too mad about being let go from a job I hated.<br />
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Luckily it came about the time we sold our house of ten years and bought a new one. I say luckily because with all the packing and unpacking I haven't had too much time to dwell on it. But the past few days have been difficult as we have been vacationing out of state. for the past nine years we have been travelling to Florida and meeting up with a group of friends. We pay in advance so that we don't have credit card bills to come back to and there wasn't a financial worry with keeping this trip.<br />
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The problem is without distractions I couldn't <i>not </i>look at the past years' events - multiple times and from multiple angles in a matter of hours on our drive from Indianapolis to Detroit. (Apparently self mental flagellation is my thing.) But then we boarded our plane and luckily had in-flight entertainment on the back of the seats in front of us.<br />
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When I was a child one of my favorite books was "A Wrinkle In Time" by <a class="fl" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madeleine_L%27Engle" ping="/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madeleine_L%2527Engle&ved=0ahUKEwjZncu3luHbAhUGWK0KHXmzCA0Qs2YIVygAMAA" style="background-color: white; color: #1a0dab; cursor: pointer; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Madeleine L'Engle</a> and the newest movie based on her book was one of the movies playing. Early in the movie Mindy Kaling's character Mrs. Who says "The wound is the place where the light enters you - Rumi.”<br />
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The wound is the place where the light enters you. There is always dark around us, but there is also light. Always. You just have to look for it.<br />
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Last fall Riley and I were driving back home from a Target run. She said "Can I ask you something?"<br />
"Always" I replied.<br />
"You had kind of a crappy childhood, right?"<br />
" It wasn't ideal"<br />
"yeah, you had some bad stuff happen."<br />
"Well sure, but why do you ask?"<br />
"Well it seems to me that the people who go through bad stuff like you did aren't very happy people. But you are. Why?"<br />
(Honestly. That level of insight is beyond me.)<br />
"Well a while back I chose to not let that affect any longer how I live my life. Yeah, a lot of bad things happen but I choose not to be miserable o dwell on it. There have been a lot of good things that have happened too. Like you and daddy - the very best things that could have ever happened to me."<br />
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Somewhere along the way I've been able to let my wounds show. It's not an easy process. Nothing worth doing is ever easy. If I hadn't though I wouldn't have been able to let light come through the wounds and been given the gift of the wonderful light coming from our daughter.<br />
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<br />James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-75674924450901950732018-10-08T19:01:00.002-04:002018-10-08T19:56:42.108-04:00Work To Be DoneI almost pulled the plug this week. Facebook has made me more ill than normal. I like staying up to date with my friends and families. I’ve tried more recipes that people have posted than I can count. I’ve laughed at classic Gary Larson cartoons as well new ones from Berkeley Breathed and Wiley Miller. My biggest complaint has been that’s it’s an incredible time-suck and I spend far too much time bent over a glowing screen instead of burying my nose in a good book. But that’s not why I almost pulled the plug.<br />
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I have been literally ill with headaches the past week reading the accounts of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford appearance in front of the senate Judiciary Committee and her subsequent secondary assault in the media. Last week I posted a blog piece about my history with sexual assault and the online (as well as offline messages) were both uplifting and heartbreaking. To those women who privately shared heir stories with me – thank you. You’re the reason I told my story. I pray that you get the comfort you need as well as understand that it was not your fault. If you think you’re not brave you are wrong. Living your life everyday as well as you all do is incredibly brave.<br />
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I honestly didn’t tell my story for recognition. God and anyone else who knows me knows that is the very last thing I want. Getting people to understand and accept that it may take years for memories of rape to trickle into their consciousness was my goal after hearing people - not the experts, mind you - say they didn’t believe Dr. Ford because she could only remember some details. And to read so many women vilifying Dr. Ford and other women for telling their stories has been gut wrenching for me. If those women aren’t to be believed, then how am I to be?<br />
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So I almost closed my Facebook account. Too much pain relieved in the past week. Too much crying as quietly as possible in locked bathrooms. Too many headaches and lost sleep. It’s. Just. Too. Much.<br />
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Then I read this story https://medium.com/s/story/gen-x-remember-when-men-preferred-hanes-and-you-were-an-uptight-bitch-6ba6db0feb80. I have a daughter in middle school. I have a daughter who is a very sweet and happy. I want her to stay that way. I don’t want her to be assaulted and have people say she must have done something to provoke the boy. I want the script flipped. I want the stories to say how many rapists there are instead of how many victims there are. Actually I want rape to stop existing. I want women to be treated with respect. We have a lot of work to do.<br />
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James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-5848498500439900202018-09-30T19:25:00.000-04:002018-11-01T19:15:21.964-04:00Assaulted: What A Nice Way To Label RapeI’ve never spoken publicly about my sexual assaults. Yes. Assaults. Three of them in my lifetime and almost a fourth a few years ago. The first was when I was a child and to publicly speak of it now would be of no benefit as the perpetrator is dead and to do so would inflict more harm than good.<br />
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The second was a trusted friend of the family and a respected elder of our church. I was 15 years old and he groomed me over the course of the summer so that when he finally did push it over the line and I balked he tried to place the blame on me by telling me how much I liked it – the physicality of the interaction. It worked. I didn’t tell anyone for months because I didn’t want them to find out I had liked the attention and I couldn’t let anyone know I was gay in 1970’s small town Indiana. It was only after an aborted suicide attempt that I spoke of what had happened but insisted that no charges be filed as I was afraid of being put on the witness stand and having to admit my sexual orientation. Before you tell me I was wrong keep in mind that I was a child and the only knowledge I had then of legal proceedings was from watching Perry Mason or similar TV shows.<br />
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The third was in my 20’s and was a case of date rape. I didn’t report that one ether. Who would believe me? I was in a relationship with him. I had willingly gone to his house. We had both been drinking that night. How could that possibly be rape? And yet it was as I hadn’t consented and yet could not get him to stop even though he was hurting me. So I gave up and my mind took me someplace else during the act. I ended the relationship the next day.<br />
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The fourth potential assault could have happened on vacation about seven years ago. We were in Ft. Lauderdale and had gone out one night. I made the rookie mistake of leaving my drink at the bar while I went to the restroom . I vaguely remember a man in a Michigan ball cap hovering around and luckily Robbie made us leave when I went from sober to dead ass drunk in about 15 minutes. It wasn’t until the next morning we realized someone had slipped me a roofie.<br />
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So yes, I believe she was assaulted. I believe there are hundreds of times more women who are victims of assault and have never come forward than there are men falsely accused of assault. And I also believe that women have for years not come forward because “who would believe me?” Or worse “I must have done something to cause it to happen.”<br />
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And if it’s you that’s been assaulted, I will listen and believe you, then hug you a little tighter (if that’s what you need) and tell you that you do not deserve any of it – the assault itself or the feelings you may be harboring since then. Far too often the victim is made to own the act and not the perpetrator. We have to change that.<br />
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James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-43278697614391086442016-09-22T20:50:00.000-04:002016-09-22T20:50:38.794-04:00FearPowerful thing, fear. Just the right amount of fear keeps us far enough from the edge of the cliff. But then again, a lack of fear allows us to jump. Hopefully with a parachute. Or deep water to plunge into as long as the cliff isn't too high. But too much fear and we never see what's beyond the edge.<br />
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Even now, after over two years have gone by, the interwebs strike fear within me. Will I say the wrong thing and piss off some troll? Will I say the right thing and piss off some other troll? Do I have anything to say? Is it intelligent? Provoking? Timely? Or just self-centered?<br />
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What if what I say hurts someone? What if I've been hurt but don't say anything because I don't want to hurt someone? Self-centered again? What if someone reads what I post and decides to tell me how stupid what I said is?<br />
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All these are valid in my mind. All of these can be distilled down to the fear of being criticized or worse: not being liked. A friend of mine recently asked if someone can be changed and initially I would have said yes. After thinking on it for a week or so, I would have to say no. I honestly don't think we change deep down inside. I do however believe we can change how we act or react to things and situations. <br />
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I stopped writing a few years ago because someone reached out to me here who knew me when I was a child. She's exactly the same age as I am -we share a birthday. One of my first memories is of her and I kissing as being under a tree in her backyard. We were about four at the time and I have no doubt we were madly in love. I mean how could it not be anything but love when you're four, but the way my memory works this may not have happened.<br />
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But hearing from her threw me into a tailspin. Someone from my childhood other than family remembered me and I couldn't have it. Or more accurately I couldn't handle it. You see, even though I talk from time to time about my childhood, I am rather careful about what I share and when. It's self preservation really. Too much of my teen years were spent hiding, being the invisible boy, shielding myself from physical and mental pain or abuse. Being the self-conscious kid I was the least little insult felt enormous so when the big guns were fired at me - faggot, queer, and worse - I retreated even further away from the world.<br />
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I read a lot in those years - which isn't a bad thing. But because of that I don't think I ever really learned how to deal with the real world. And yes, I'm quite aware of the number of years between then and now, but like I said earlier I don't think what makes each of us, <b><i>us,</i></b> ever really changes, we only react to those stimuli differently.<br />
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So Tina B., I apologize for not responding a few years ago. And if you want to, please leave me a private message here with your email, I'll respond. I'd like the opportunity to reconnect and find out if my memory is right about that kiss under the backyard tree. James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-57662100067670297962015-09-14T21:47:00.000-04:002015-09-14T21:47:09.652-04:009/11 - Three Days & Fourteen Years After<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.36px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The following is in response to a very dear friends Facebook post on 9/11. It was a great piece and carefully thought out. If you'd like, <b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/alice.drinkwater.52/posts/997572706959673" target="_blank">here</a> </b>is the link to her Facebook post.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.36px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.36px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I read your Facebook post - it's the only thing I've read since this morning. I've avoided everything I could to no good result as everyone has something to say including Chase's CEO Jamie Dimon. That's not in anyway to diminish your message as it's a good one. But all of it seems a bit much somehow and yet not quite enough of the right things. There are too many </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.36px; white-space: pre-wrap;">clips of the planes crashing into the towers and almost nothing about the individual people who died.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.36px; white-space: pre-wrap;">After sobbing for a while for the fourteenth year in a row and wondering why when I knew absolutely no one who perished that day I've come to the conclusion that it just doesn't matter because 3000 people, <i>PEOPLE</i>, died that day. And what a horrific way to go. Some of them plummeting to a certain death rather than be incinerated. Others crushed by the weight of those towers collapsing on them. How do we know? We watched over and over and over hoping for a different outcome. Hoping that by some miracle someone could have survived all the while we were playing out Einstein's maxim about the definition of insanity.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.36px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.36px; white-space: pre-wrap;">To say we as a species are flawed and capable of unspeakable horror seems to also be a disservice because I also know we can be quite capable of immeasurable kindness and bravery of which I've been the recipient of both traits. But I have to wonder about a society that doesn't see that the loss we suffered when those planes came crashing down is almost nothing compared to the devastation Japan experienced when nuclear bombs crashed into two of their cities. "The two bombings, which killed at least 129,000 people, remain the only use of nuclear weapons for warfare in history." According to Wikipedia. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.36px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I guess the bottom line for me isn't who the perpetrator was as much as knowing so many people lost their lives over government or religious ideology. (And no, I don't believe the conspiracy theories.) There are lessons to be learned but instead we seem to be intent on exacting a revenge. Or worse, wallowing in a social media pile of self-pity & righteous indignation.</span></span></span>James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-10053272751081989562014-05-10T12:10:00.001-04:002014-05-10T12:10:55.940-04:00Life Without Mom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_T9whSS1SifJkvvbI6CRiwUrp41cGjakc3KoMaaCXcEYTTwrJOo_e6FduOsuU_vBnbm3LRO_J0Zm2H0DgrDyQit38eGFQ8qXpCC6LRUrBXMZT-ghZM39Q04ez3BrjZuZGMtv2WUYHf4dW/s1600/photo+(3).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_T9whSS1SifJkvvbI6CRiwUrp41cGjakc3KoMaaCXcEYTTwrJOo_e6FduOsuU_vBnbm3LRO_J0Zm2H0DgrDyQit38eGFQ8qXpCC6LRUrBXMZT-ghZM39Q04ez3BrjZuZGMtv2WUYHf4dW/s1600/photo+(3).JPG" /></a></div>
At the beginning of the week a question was posed to the Gay Dads group on Facebook. The moderator wanted to know how we as gay men observe Mother's Day as he was doing some research for an article. I responded with a link to the post from last year with what we did. You can read last year's post <a href="http://jimshue.blogspot.com/2013/05/a-tree-grows-in-driftwood-hills.html" target="_blank">here</a>. A few days later he came back and asked me if I could just cut it down to a few sentences as he really liked the post but wanted them in my words. I thought he was putting together something together for the Facebook group and submitted a few lines to him but it was for the Huffington Post (The Huffington Post!) and you can read that article <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/brent-almond/do-gay-dads-celebrate-mot_b_5272640.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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This year will have a different feel for us as it will be the first one without Robbie's mom. We were supposed to go to Michigan for the weekend to observe the day with his family, but a failed septic system has caused those plans to be scrapped. That crappy news (see what I did there?) has given me time to figure out what to do with a post I wrote a while back after having dinner with our friends Azure and Justin a few months ago. Azure was asking about how Robbie was doing with the loss of his mom and then the focus turned to me and I answered as honestly as I could about the loss I felt especially contrasted with how my mother is. I felt horrible when she started tearing up asking me more questions such as when was the last time Riley had seen her grandmother and her not understanding how anyone couldn't want to be a part of such a sweet girls life. Those tears in turn made me feel bad for making Azure so sad. I kept reassuring her that I really was okay and that I had accepted the reality of my mother. A few more tears and hugs later, we came home and I wrote the following piece. I've debated about sharing it as I really don't want to cause harm to anyone. But sometimes the best you can hope for is tell the truth and be free of it.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I’m not sure if I can do this, but here goes. Mom, you have to go. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Really. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I came to this conclusion after telling our story matter-of-factly to friends Saturday evening and finding them both horrified and saddened by our history over the past 5 almost 6 years. (I didn’t even delve into the prior 40 years.) While I was okay in recounting it I have come to the conclusion that sharing it does nothing but make people feel bad and that is not what I want. I try and make it somewhat comical - there is truly a fine line between comedy and tragedy - but I’m finding that most people can’t accept the distance you’ve maintained while only living twenty minutes away. And I can’t have people crying over something that I can’t fix or change. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>So, you have to go. If anyone asks, I will just simply say we don’t have a relationship, haven’t had one for years, and that it’s a mutual impasse. But that’s not really true, is it? The impasse is all yours as we have everything to try and include you in our lives from which you promptly disappeared. You’ve moved three times that I know of without telling me. Plus it’s very difficult to call someone when a phone number is never given. The last one I have of yours hasn’t worked in over 6 years - I tried it on several occasions and then just gave up.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>It’s not that I got tired of everyone saying that you were making an effort to change either. We know it’s not true. Making an effort would be more than just harassing my husband at a family gathering to find out what I’m angry about. First, he told you it wasn’t his place to speak for me. Second, I’m not angry. Anger was 5 or 6 years ago. Now I just don’t have the energy to do the steps to this dance anymore. It’s too complicated, it doesn’t make any sense, and I don’t like it. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>You have to go to the shadows of the plot line. You made yourself a minor character in my life story when you moved and didn’t tell me for three months. You became the lesser character when you moved two more times after that without telling me. With your silence since July after making a production of getting our phone numbers and address your part has become smaller and smaller. With each passing day, week, month, and year you become… well, you become you.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I’ve had the great fortune to have a wonderful woman in my life for thirteen years who gave me the second greatest gift of my life. She gave me the gift of unconditional love. Robbie’s mother passed away the middle of October but she’s left a lasting impression on my life. Actually she made a lasting impression on everyone’s life who was lucky enough to have their path cross with hers. It was never a quick passing either. She was truly interested in whoever she came in contact with and always made sure that she did whatever she could to make their life even just the tiniest bit better. There is no hyperbole in those words either. She truly lived by the words of Christ whether is it was accepting a collect phone call from a stranger in jail to making sure that whoever sat at her kitchen table had more than enough to eat, or just listening to the small details of this boy’s life growing up in small town Indiana. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Momma Lopez taught me more than anything by her actions that I deserve better. She showed me what a mother’s love really is. She and Robbie’s dad both welcomed me into their home over thirteen years ago without a second thought or one negative question. I really miss her. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So this year we honor the memory of Robbie's mom with a small garden and possibly a bench. Maybe Robbie will feel a little less of a loss if he has a special place he can sit and talk to her. We also honor the woman who carried our daughter for us and let us become a family. And I remember the woman my mother once was, the woman who took the time to teach me how to hit a baseball, how to cook and in turn feed my family, and also how to change a spark plug. </span>James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-29176845201664388272014-05-04T22:20:00.002-04:002014-05-04T22:20:55.527-04:00Coming Out... againRecently we participated in a parenting panel at the University of Indianapolis which we've been a part of for the past 5 years. The instructor usually has us and another family (who are straight) talk a little about our families, our backgrounds, and then answer questions from the students. There are several questions that we can usually count on hearing every time and one in particular had me thinking more about my answer. That question is always about our coming out stories.<br />
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I usually chuckle and ask which time because I did it twice. I came out when I was twenty-one and then slammed the closet door back shut several years later after getting my heart broken over and over. I wanted a relationship - something more than just bed hopping. Unfortunately the times and the guys I met weren't accommodating to what I wanted, what I needed, and I decided that I couldn't take anymore and I would go back to dating women.<br />
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The second time was when I was almost thirty-three. After dating either the wrong women, or trying to date the unattainable ones I realized the reason I was picking them was because deep down I knew I wouldn't end up with any of them. And while I was being honest with myself, the reason I didn't want to end up with a woman was because I knew that at some point I would end up cheating with a man and I just couldn't do that to someone. I've had several women friends who have been in those situations and I've seen first hand the anguish they've gone through. I just couldn't be that guy.<br />
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But the truth is so much complex than those small episodes. Everyday is a coming out of some sort or another. Whenever I find myself in a new situation I wonder how much of my life I can show. Every time we're introduced to a new group of people I'm wondering how much of our life I can reveal. Most people think it's the formal process of coming out to our families, friends, or coworkers but it really is a continuing process that never ends. It would be nice to not have to act this way but until someone (us) can be open about their love life without fear of judgement or retribution this is the state of our lives - always wondering how much of our lives we can be open about.<br />
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Oh, and the second most asked question? That would be "who does her hair?" We pay a professional to keep her hair looking nice. All I can do is simple braid. If I tried to French braid it would look like I used my feet.<br />
<br />James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-5763863882946430632014-03-06T22:58:00.000-05:002014-03-06T22:58:02.649-05:00Three Parts Gay<b>Trolling the Trolls</b><br />
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Robbie asked me recently why I even bother to engage people on the other side of the online marriage equality debate - the ones who brandish The Bible as if it were a weapon and can’t have any discussion that doesn’t equate homosexuality to perversions with animals, children, relatives, or all of the above in different configurations. He says, rightly so, that I’m not going to change their minds. The quick answer is it’s fun to make their heads burst when I don’t stoop to their level and instead offer a prayer that they might become more Christ-like by not judging others. Really though I do it to make our voices heard. They may be incapable of change - I hope that’s not always the case - but there might be someone who hasn’t made up their mind or maybe they’re open to other possibilities. Without saying anything we let the other side win by default.<br />
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There have been several times over the past ten years when I’ve had people I work with say that they don’t understand what the big deal is. They don’t understand why we need marriage equality “Can’t you just have legal papers drawn up?” Yeah we can and did. However they can be challenged by anyone at anytime plus we need to have them with us at all times in case of emergency. Luckily we haven’t run into any problems but I think that says more about where we live than anything else. We chose the north side of Indianapolis for its diversity.<br />
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But back to the point: when I explain everything that we have to worry about, about the stack of legal documents that we need as opposed to one single little marriage license, the cost of one versus the other, and the fact that if one of us were to suddenly die that everything gets tied up in probate if anyone challenges our final wills/wishes, well then people become a little more sympathetic and understanding. I remind them how those types of documents are challenged all the time. Even if we have everything dotted and crossed it still takes time to defend ourselves in court - with even more expenses on top of everything else, whereas a marriage license is not likely to be contested, doesn’t require a lawyer, and is a hell of a lot cheaper and quicker to get.<br />
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So, yeah. Maybe there are some people on the fence. Or there could be some people who haven’t given it much thought. Or maybe the only side they’ve heard has been the ones who have been the most vocal about why marriage equality is wrong. Speaking up is the best thing I can do. It’s the only thing I can do and hope that it makes a difference with someone.<br />
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<b>Gay Rights VS Religious Freedoms</b><br />
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Last year there was a big news story out of Washington state about a bakery that refused to do a cake for a same sex wedding. The bakery owner cited their religious beliefs as preventing them from doing anything that could be construed as supporting gay marriage. The offended couple sued and won. I’m all for social progress but I really don’t think this is the way to go about it.<br />
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This may not be popular with some in the LGBT community but I don’t think we need special laws to protect us from bigoted business people and I’ll tell you why. If a private business doesn’t want to do business with a gay couple - or even single gay people - then they shouldn’t be legally forced to. Do I think that’s right for them to refuse someone based on their sexual orientation? Absolutely not. But it’s not my business to run or make decisions for them. There are plenty of other businesses out there that would be glad to take our money.<br />
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Just a few years ago there was a business here in Indianapolis that refused to do cookies for a National Coming Our Day event at IUPUI. The owner said he in good consciousness couldn’t make cookies for something that he and his wife felt would be against there religious beliefs. Another business, The Flying Cupcake, stepped in and made cupcakes for the event. Personally I’ve purchased many times from The Flying Cupcake if nothing else just to make sure that they knew how much I appreciated what they did - and they make a fabulous red velvet cupcake.<br />
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When Robbie and I were planning our commitment ceremony 10 years ago, we made a point to let all the vendors know that we were a gay couple and what we were doing. While doing research we read a few horror stories of last minute cancellations once a vendor realized they would be doing a gay wedding. We didn’t want that to happen and I think because of the honesty up front everything went perfect for us, everyone from the photographers to the bakery to the minister were amazing and did an amazing job making sure that we had a great day. If you had to choose between a place that was forced by law to serve you or the place that will graciously do business with you, I think the smart choice is the latter one.<br />
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<b>Living Life The Best Way We Know How</b><br />
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Here’s the final part of the trilogy of thoughts. I think there is way too much shouting going on from both sides. Several years ago we were told by friends of ours that they were going to become Mommies because of what Robbie and I did by becoming fathers. That was the highest compliment I have ever received. We didn’t set out to be role models, but somehow we’ve become that for a small group of people. It’s also one of the reasons I do this blog - to let people see how really ordinary our lives are and how similar to theirs it is. We’re not perfect, far from it in fact which is one of the things people (straight people) are surprised to find out. We have the same arguments, the same worries, and the same dreams for our children that everyone else has. There is no “Gay Agenda” other than to make it through another day and thank God for everything we have.<br />
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I’ve said it before and I’ll say it many more times that I’m the luckiest man in the world. I have the most understanding and supportive spouse that a guy could have. We’re lucky to have a beautiful, smart, funny, and caring daughter that I would do anything to protect from the harms in this world. We have a crazy ten year old Westie who acts more like a puppy than he probably should. A lot of this has less to do with luck than it does with a mindset.<br />
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I use to worry way to much about what other people thought of me and my life. It was exhausting living that way. It wasn’t an overnight realization and change of ways, but rather a pattern of one thing following another. You find out that it isn’t such a big deal at work to talk about your personal life when you quit playing the pronoun game. Then you realize that you can talk about your significant other and people go “Oh, I didn’t realize you were dating.” Then you think if everyone else around me is sharing about their life, then it’s no big deal to have pictures of my family at my desk. In fact it has opened up quite a few conversations, very respectable questions 99% of the time. The other 1% I think is just a lack of tact in asking questions with no ill intent behind them. At least that’s how I choose to look at it. If I start to question people’s motives it becomes exhausting always having my guard up.<br />
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So we live our lives. We don’t hide who we are. We don’t go around demanding that people accept us. Life is too short for constant confrontation. I hope that people are a little more accepting of us because of that and realize that we aren‘t so different after all. If you get past the differences, you might find out that we have more in common than you think.<br />
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James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-34860901653943951802014-02-26T22:06:00.000-05:002014-02-26T22:06:27.665-05:00Bullies and Marriage EqualityFaggot. Queer. Cocksucker.<br />
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I’ll take “Names from high school” for $1000 Alex. Yup, I heard them all. Now I wonder how they knew about me back then when I never acted on my feelings. Okay, there was that one time at band camp, but I’m not sure that mutual masturbation under the covers truly counts as a sexual encounter. Quasi-encounter maybe. But my first full blown (no pun intended) gay sexual experience didn't occur until I was 21.<br />
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I debated about putting a warning at the beginning of this because that language isn't what I normally put into my writing. But I figured the shock might be good for readers to have - if they’re shocked at all. I certainly was when I was reminded of how strangers are during an online debate about marriage equality here in Indiana. Once the other guy pulled out the queer word I thanked him for the reminder of what people really think and that I mistakenly thought I had left the bullying shoved into a corner of my high school locker like some wadded up piece of notebook paper. Luckily though I was never stuffed into one - even though back then I probably would have fit. I did however have books knocked out of my hands, got tripped in the hallway one day, faggot and cocksucker hissed at me in passing, and once had my school t-shirt ripped off one shoulder in the lunch line. That was a fun afternoon going around from class to class with my shirt held together on one side by a couple of safety pins all because two of school jocks decided they couldn't wait behind me.<br />
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So even if I did leave all that back in high school, there are plenty of people to remind me that they haven’t. People like Mike Delph, Micah Clark, Mike Pence, and a cast of several dozen internet commentators (not here) who remind me on a daily basis that the “home-sek-shuls” are not fit to breath the same air as the fine upstanding, God fearing, bible thumping, people of the Great State of Indiana! Why how dare I say that I’m a Christian? How dare I raise a child in this god-less house with my deviant husband? How dare I still live? Why I should just go kill myself and save humanity from my evil wicked ways. Yes, I've heard that one also.<br />
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But I’m the bully. Any guesses as to why? Because I demand to have my civil rights is why. Because I refuse to go “back in the closet” or better “see the sickness and depravity of” my life by opening my eyes. The latter help came from a man who said he lived the same “sick deviant” life that I live until he woke up one day to see how sick it really was. I wanted to say that he apparently wasn't doing it right (or maybe he was?) but instead I just said that my family and I would be praying that one day he would wake up and see that judging people wasn't his job and that he would be able to accept all people just as Christ did. I think I actually heard his head explode all the way from northern Indiana at that one.<br />
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Here’s the irony of the whole marriage equality debate. I’m already married. We were married in a church in a very traditional ceremony right here in Indianapolis. The difference between our wedding and state sanctioned marriages? There were two grooms at the altar and no license. We had called it a commitment ceremony, but that changed once we heard the minister introduce us at church services the next morning as having been married in their sanctuary the previous day. We were stunned when the whole congregation cheered. They cheered for two queer men who had stood at the front of their church and declared in front of our families, our friend, and our God that we would be spend the rest of our lives together.<br />
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Here are a few things to consider if you're on the other side from me on this issue: A county clerk's office issues a marriage license, not a church. You don't have to be married in a church for it to be legal. Without going into all the other "arguments" what a marriage is at it's most base level is a legal contract between two consenting adults of legal age witnessed by two other adults of consenting age. A person can't marry a toaster or their dog because the first is an inanimate object and the second is an animal and neither is capable of signing a legal contract.<br />
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Faggot. Six letters, one really harsh word. But you know what? I would rather hear it than have someone be told they aren't allowed to use it. At least then I’ll know who I’m dealing with once it escapes their lips. Call it gay marriage if you want, it doesn't make it any different than what you and your spouse have. If allowing me and my husband to be legally married somehow threatens your "straight" marriage then I strongly suspect there are other issues at work that have nothing to do with two men or two women getting married.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">October 30, 2004 - Central Christian Church</td></tr>
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James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-68614446884308078662014-02-10T21:48:00.001-05:002014-02-12T22:03:46.903-05:00A Home in Indiana?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">Today I was watching some of the Indiana Senate hearing on HJR-3. For those not familiar with HJR-3 (formerly HJR-6) it is a proposed amendment to the Indiana Constitution that would prohibit marriage equality or anything resembling marriage for gay people. Indiana requires any changes to the state constitution to be ratified by two consecutive legislative sessions before going to a voter referendum. Here is the language that was passed in the prior legislature:</span></div>
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HJR-3 Language</h2>
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<em style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin: 0px; outline-color: invert; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“Only a marriage between one (1) man and one (1) woman shall be valid or recognized as a marriage in Indiana.</em></div>
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<em style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin: 0px; outline-color: invert; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">“A legal status identical or substantially similar to that of marriage for unmarried individuals shall not be valid or recognized.”</em></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 17px;">(and here is where I had a whole bunch of dry facts about the legislative process - none of which I wanted to read through so I'm sure no one else did either)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;">A few weeks ago the Indiana House passed HJR-3 without the second sentence. Today the Senate committee heard testimony and voted to send it to the full Senate also without the second sentence and it will very likely come to a vote later this week. During all the testimony </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">I read the live feed on Facebook and Twitter while trying to hold down the fear of what the passage of HJR-3</span><span class="_58cl" style="color: #6d84b4;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"> will mean to my family. I wonder if people realize that this is more than just legally defining marriage in this state, but is more about how Indiana will view my family. We are a happy little bunch, and I know we are loved by our family and friends here. But to live in the state I grew up in and returned home to so we could raise our daughter would become unthinkable and not possible any longer. There is a limit to what a stack of legal paperwork can do to protect us and it is a large stack. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">I'm not sure how things will turn out, but to hear several groups stand on research as to why a mother and a father are necessary for children to have any hopes of growing up well adjusted made we wonder how things got so twisted around. We speak about the legal protections afforded by marriage and they shout "but the bible defines marriage as one man, one woman!" They speak of stable traditional homes as the basis for child rearing and we ask "isn't that what we're doing now?" </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">Seriously. The picture of values the conservative right is painting is one very similar to what we have with the only difference being there are two guys instead of a guy and a gal under this roof raising a child. We have dinner as a family every night. Robbie is on the school PTO. We both attend our daughters recitals. We wonder if our 50 year old septic system will hold up until the city finally comes through with city services. We vote and pay taxes. We worry if our daughter is doing well enough in school. And now we worry about this piece of legislation. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">This is what it boils down to: This is a legal matter not a religious one. </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 17px;">Marriage licenses are issued by </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">county clerks not by churches to two consenting adults. Not three or more. Not to an adult and a minor. Or animals. Or toasters. The last three are precluded from signing legal contracts - the first because they aren't old enough, the latter because they are either not a cognizant or sentient being. There is no clause saying you have to procreate or have a religious ceremony when you apply for one - both of which being arguments for denying marriage equality. </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 17px;">If your church doesn't support same sex marriage then you can believe that your church won't be forced to perform any. In fact I can personally guarantee that we won't even set foot in your sanctuary. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">And here's a question for the conservative religious faction. If you really think that religion should be a reason for enacting laws then which religion should it be? </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 17px;">Hebrew, Muslim, Buddhism</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 17px;">, Scientology, or any of the other numerous religion? </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">Christians can't even agree on the same interpretation of the Bible whether they be Catholic, Baptist, Methodist, or Episcopalian. There is a very practical reason for separation of church and state - no one has ever been able to find a common ground among all of them. Okay maybe one thing - Love. </span></span></span></div>
James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-12302622350571086942013-05-13T23:07:00.000-04:002013-05-13T23:07:48.869-04:00A Tree Grows in Driftwood Hills<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdYodyazuIlF_Y_qM3EdNvJ-AcoBxlFHyIoXGUKpJ3LJVRFaMIplRz4r7pWtIwdAe-_RgVsekHwHYkXS8zFGnwq6WtMLP-dY5uXF6pMERxKofUWjV8DuOBowhR_rMg-On8v1rWSKJshqKC/s1600/photo+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdYodyazuIlF_Y_qM3EdNvJ-AcoBxlFHyIoXGUKpJ3LJVRFaMIplRz4r7pWtIwdAe-_RgVsekHwHYkXS8zFGnwq6WtMLP-dY5uXF6pMERxKofUWjV8DuOBowhR_rMg-On8v1rWSKJshqKC/s320/photo+(2).JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
Recently Riley has taken to telling stories about her birth mother. At first it was a bit alarming causing us to pause for a moment and question if we somehow were not giving Riley everything she needed. Then we found out that the neighbor girls who are also adopted are doing something very similar in talking about their own birth parents. The alarm bells quieted a bit since those girls have both an adoptive mom and dad.<br />
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Mother's day just passed and this year made it especially poignant with the tales she has been spinning of things that have happened with both her birth mother and now recently her birth father. We talk with her and give her what little information we have and feel that is appropriate to share. Robbie's sister is adopted as well so we do have some reference sources right in the family on how to handle the questions and stories.<br />
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Her school experience has been extremely wonderful and for Mother's Day this year she brought home handmade cards for both of her daddies as well as one she made for her birth mother that she placed in the mailbox. Our letter carrier has been a real gem over the years, taking in the pieces of hand made art that Riley places there and even leaving a personal thank you several times. But this time the card for her birth mother made me think hard about our and Riley's situation. I had Robbie retrieve the card and together with a personal note from us and a photo of Riley they will be sent to the Adoption Link to go into a file in case Riley's birth mother decided she wants to know more about the little girl she left in our care 6 years ago.<br />
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6 years. Six. Our little girl is six years old now and it just seems like yesterday that I was holding her in my arms for the first time and weeping at the pure joy of finally being a father. I think I cried for a good 15 -20 minutes as I was giving her a bottle while sitting in that huge rocking recliner on the second floor offices of the adoption agency. Riley never took her eyes off me the entire time. There have been two times in my life that I've been absolutely sure I was doing the right thing. One is the day that I married Robbie (yeah, not legal but still a marriage) and the second was the first moment I held my daughter in my arms.<br />
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But now with her birth mother stories I have doubts. Doubts that we will be able to give Riley everything she needs. I read all day Sunday of the wonderful tributes people paid to the mothers and women in their lives that have helped shape who they have become. Those stories only increased my worry (have I mentioned that if worrying were an Olympic sport I would take the gold every 4 years?) So I did the exact opposite of what I wanted to do - I talked to Riley with Robbie about her birth mother, how her mother loved her very much, wanted us to have her as our own daughter and to take care of her because she wasn't able to.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh87qIs7MW8DNEkaOYbMedm5tVcGyprueOJ3llhHP6XDJs8Yr7PFmFl41Qhb2rDebae9wl3pRlEue1ZnsWoxD2REon9FHXENyCzaCazIDxowpGaWYQ2lUe2LXp6KSOVPTPwTwfyjQy8jbCr/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh87qIs7MW8DNEkaOYbMedm5tVcGyprueOJ3llhHP6XDJs8Yr7PFmFl41Qhb2rDebae9wl3pRlEue1ZnsWoxD2REon9FHXENyCzaCazIDxowpGaWYQ2lUe2LXp6KSOVPTPwTwfyjQy8jbCr/s320/image.jpeg" width="240" /></a>We then asked Riley if she would like to pick out a tree or rose bush of some kind to plant in honor of the women who gave her life and she thought that was a great idea. We have a local garden shop fairly close to our home and we drove over to find just the right plant. After wandering around for a while looking at various trees and plants Riley seemed a little overwhelmed. That's when I remembered the Eastern Redbud They are native to this area and are covered in lavender blooms every spring before the leaves come out. Heart shaped leaves. Once I pointed those leaves out to Riley she was very excited and wanted to get that one to plant in honor of her birth mother. I hope this is a way for her to connect with her birth mother since we don't know where she is other than somewhere in Chicago. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVyfa0g_tNCkrjVzUs4AnnZm4w8nKrDVx4jK-W7fQ6Dq19HF_GFHP_ur5ikxgb4jo6gfz3CywE9BnnU8-TWsR4YrjC4SnCV1xWspWK_qN03yDUfXsD_FWdIDU_hPYIqNO_SevcTi7Vt-t/s1600/mosaic7908396.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVyfa0g_tNCkrjVzUs4AnnZm4w8nKrDVx4jK-W7fQ6Dq19HF_GFHP_ur5ikxgb4jo6gfz3CywE9BnnU8-TWsR4YrjC4SnCV1xWspWK_qN03yDUfXsD_FWdIDU_hPYIqNO_SevcTi7Vt-t/s200/mosaic7908396.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
The stories have grown more elaborate over the past few months and I've been reassured that this is very normal for adopted children but part of me still worries that she is going to feel somehow cheated out of growing up with a mother around. We try to compensate by having as many women in her life as we possibly can - hopefully that and our love will be enough.James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-43957886138035657302013-04-30T22:03:00.000-04:002013-04-30T22:03:10.671-04:00Polishing up the Daddy Skills<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dark purple. More exactly it's Plaza Plumberry from New York Color. Yes, that is my nail. No, I'm not going goth one nail at a time. Yes, it was a whim. No, it didn't spread beyond the one nail. I only kept the color on for a few days only removing it when my doctor expressed some alarm with either a) I had smashed my finger in a door or b) I had melanoma in my nail bed. It never occurred to him that it was just nail polish. Would you expect a man looking squarely down the barrel of 52 to wear nail polish on one finger who isn't in a rock band? Yeah, he didn't either.<br />
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A few weekends ago, Riley was stuck inside and bored. It had been raining for eons and it was cold outside. We had played board games (or is that bored?) and watched several movies. She was done with all that and asked for me to paint her nails. In several colors - one per nail. I said no and compromised by painting all her nails with three colors layering pink then purple and then topped them off with a clear coat with sparkles. In between coats I thought I'd have some fun and paint one of mine with the purple. (I've already experienced the clear with sparkles while on a beach vacation - too many margaritas. Different story for a different day.)<br />
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Riley thought it was hilarious that a boy would have nail polish on even if it was just one finger. When I asked her if she liked it she said no, that boys aren't supposed to wear polish and to take it off. I told her teasingly that I liked it. "Dad! You have to take it off. You work people make fun of you." Well that stopped me right in my tracks. Is this what our daughter was really concerned about? That I would be made fun of? Now it's a life lesson.<br />
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"Oh sweetie. The people I work with aren't going to laugh at me. They're my friends. Friends don't make fun of each other."<br />
"Dad! They gonna laugh at you!"<br />
"No honey, they won't."<br />
"Daddy! You have to take off the polish!"<br />
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Keep in mind that she is laughing the entire time, rolling her eyes and generally just thinking how silly I am. But Riley is adamant that she doesn't want anyone to make fun of me. I had to reassure her that people wouldn't laugh and that if they did it didn't bother me. It was their issue to deal with.<br />
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That was not entirely true.<br />
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Part of me was a bit worried about walking into work the next day with one dark purple nail. Then I realized that I had a doctor's appointment right after work - in fact I had to leave work a little early and wouldn't have time to stop by home and remove it. Anxiety set in. I debated removing it after Riley went to bed. I couldn't do it though - I really felt like I needed to show her that it's okay to be your own person, do your own thing, and not worry (too much) about what other people think.<br />
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I awoke the next day thinking what are people at work going to think? Will anybody say anything? What am I going to tell them. I decided to make an experiment with it and just go about my business to see what reactions I got. Challenge the people I work with and just go about my day. Honestly it was really difficult at first and I kept catching myself curling that hand under so people wouldn't be able to see the purple nail. Then something happened. Or rather nothing happened. It got closer and closer for me to leave and no one said anything. So I did what any attention monger would do and started pointing it out while relaying Riley's concerns and how I felt it was an important lesson to teach her. I would say that it was also an important lesson for me to learn, but I am the one who bleached his hair platinum blond 13 years ago just to see how it looked.James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-42762795951121521852013-04-06T12:16:00.000-04:002013-04-06T12:28:45.881-04:00It Could Happen, But Let's Make Sure It Doesn'tTwice a year we participate in a parenting panel at the University of Indianapolis. It's for a class on gender roles in parenting and Robbie and I participate along with another couple who are straight but are big GLBTQ allies. Somehow though the discussion brings up our coming out stories and this time was no different. The class though was not as inquisitive as past classes have been so we did a lot of talking off the cuff. We talked about what it's like to raise an African American girl when we quite obviously neither. Questions were asked about prejudices and if we've experienced anything negative which I'm quite pleased to say has only happened once.<br />
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The other couple have a lesbian daughter who came out to them while she was in college. She is now a big advocate for anti-bullying campaigns even though she herself never experienced any. Bullying is something though that I experienced at school quite often. Many instances were witnessed by teachers who chose to look the other way. One particular instance has remained with me all these years and that was when two "star" athletes wanted in front of me for the lunch line. My t-shirt ended up being ripped off one shoulder and I spent the rest of the day with it barely held up by a safety pin. Nothing happened to the athletes.<br />
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But this story isn't about bullying. One of the topics brought up by the other couple was about marriage equality: how not having it is causing an intellectual drain on this country when other countries around us allow it. Robbie and I spoke about the economic and legal ramifications of the not being allowed to be legally married. We have to have a stack of legal documents an inch thick. Financial matters have to be thought out carefully. For instance we didn't realize that because we are not related by blood or marriage that our 401 retirement accounts would be subjected to a 50% tax from the Federal government. We found that out during the DOMA hearings before the Supreme Court. We quickly changed the beneficiary to Riley to take advantage of the lower inheritance tax rate and felt we had everything covered.<br />
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Yesterday that all changed. I follow George Takei on Facebook. You should as well. He has the most funny and sometimes profound posts of any celebrity I've read on there. Yesterday he posted a link to a movie trailer simply called "<a href="http://youtu.be/uN1F49l8DDc" target="_blank">Bridegroom</a>" which is being featured at this years TriBeCa film festival. (click on Bridegroom to see the trailer). Watching it reminded me that I had just talked about this very couple in the gender class the other night. I talked about how last fall i had watched a YouTube video someone had posted on Facebook about these two guys who lived in California. They had been a couple for 6 years, one from a small town in Montana, and the other from a small town in Indiana. They were living the American dream when tragedy struck in 2011. The guy from Indiana fell from the rooftop of a four story apartment building - he didn't survive.<br />
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This is where the true tragedy begins. The guy from Montana had a family that was very happy that he had found someone to share his life with when both guys had decided to come out to their families. The one from Indiana? His family was the exact opposite. This is the link for the original video that still has me shaken: <a href="http://youtu.be/pR9gyloyOjM" target="_blank">"It Could Happen To You"</a> It starts out with a black screen with white letters floating: "What if tragedy struck the one you love?" then changes to "Would you be prepared?" then simply says "I'm Shane", "And this is my story."<br />
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There are several things that hit me hard about this video. First the music in the beginning of Shane's story is Debussy's Clare de lune which is the very music Robbie and I walked down the aisle to at our commitment ceremony over 8 years ago at the Disciples of Christ Church here in Indianapolis. Second it never occurred to me that someone else could step in and prevent Robbie or I from taking care of the funeral arrangements of the other one if something were to happen. So now it's another trip back to the lawyer for us. And never mind the fact that not having Robbie in my life is a thought that is more than I can bear.<br />
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If anyone still wonders why marriage equality is so important to us, there is the reason why. No one should have to go through what Shane did. NO ONE! All the biblical arguments are nonsense in this matter. You don't go to a church to get a marriage license. The minister/priest/clergy all say the same thing at the end of the ceremony "... by the power invested in me by the state of _____" It IS a legal contract between two people of consenting age. If you choose to make it a religious matter then you can. No state requires that once you get your marriage license that you have to get married in a church. None.<br />
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Just in case you didn't see the links in this post, here they are:<br />
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<a href="http://youtu.be/pR9gyloyOjM" target="_blank">It Could Happen To You</a><br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/uN1F49l8DDc" target="_blank">Bridegroom Trailer #1</a>James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-55351302996640022762013-03-09T10:46:00.000-05:002013-03-09T10:46:20.620-05:00THE Question We Are Most Asked<i><b>The question we inevitably are asked more than any other is "When are you getting Riley a sibling?" The quick answer is that we're always trying, but it doesn't seem to take. I've been told that's a bit rude and too much information for some people. To which I say if they are going to be rude enough to ask about our personal plans they deserve a rude answer.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>But not really. It's meant as a joke. People seem to genuinely want to know about how we became parents, the process that we had to go through and would we do it again. Wording is everything people. I've previously wrote about how we became a family and the steps we had to go through. Some would say hoops, but in hindsight it doesn't seem like it was that much to go through to have the gift that is our daughter. Would we do it again? In a heartbeat - or a lifetime of them.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>Riley will be six this year, I'll be 52 and Robbie will be 43. While our original thought was that we wanted Riley to have a sibling the reality is the math just isn't there. Not only are we of the age that a lot of our heterosexual peers are either becoming grandparents (great-grandparents in some instances) or sending their children off to college, we can't swing the fees we would incur with the adoption process. It's not cheap folks. We could throw caution to the wind and live on the very precipice of financial solvency but we would like to think that if something were to happen to our home, health, or jobs that we would be able to manage. Throw another person into the mix at this point and we could rapidly approach the point of homelessness if something were to happen. Yes there are tax breaks for adoption and other incentives to help defray the cost, but those are only available once the adoption is finalized. Adoption can take years - it was a 2 1/2 year process with Riley. </b></i><br />
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<i><b>But, and this is a rather large but, we also are open to anything happening. If God gives us a baby we would not say no, somehow we would make it work. There have been a couple of instances in the past few years where we have been asked to think about adopting. One instance was a high school girl who asked us to think about adopting her unborn child. We talked about it and decided that if she wanted to put her baby up for adoption we would do it. Then a week later she had her first ultra sound and the baby became a real person to her. Her son will be two this summer and our family remains three. If you remember School House Rock, three is the magic number.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>It is never easy when our daughter says that she wants a little sister (some days it's a brother) and we have to think of something to tell her that she can relate to as to why she won't be a big sister. More than once we've had to explain that when she says she is getting a little sister or brother that is just her active imagination at work. One can always dream though.</b></i><br />
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Yes, dream. I wrote the part above at the beginning of the week and had my number one critic and fan read it. He said it wasn't my usual work - it wasn't bad, just very matter of fact and a bit cold with the talk of costs being the main focus. So here's the truth about this question for me. I would love to have another baby. There are times that I can literally feel an ache inside and it usually occurs when I'm around babies or get the announcement that friends are expecting.<br />
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Several months ago I was listening to the syndicated morning radio program "The Bert Show" when one of the co-hosts Jenn Hobby announced that she and her husband were finally expectant parents. They had been trying for quite a while and had to have the help of fertility specialists. Jenn spoke very emotionally about having to wait several months to tell her co-workers about being pregnant and keeping her and her husband's attempts at getting pregnant a secret. She spoke about what it's like hearing that someone else had such an easy time getting pregnant while she and her husband were struggling. (Follow Jenn on Twitter @JennHobby) It was a very emotional segment about a personal ordeal that radio personalities rarely share. She spoke very honestly about the all the emotions of feeling inadequate, the desires of having a baby, and the struggles to keep a very private matter private until she and her husband were ready to announce their good news.<br />
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That's when I lost my composure and had to go hide in a bathroom stall for a while. Nothing like being at work and having the unexpected feeling of loss at not having the larger family I always wanted. I was sobbing knowing that we probably won't be holding our very own new baby in our arms again. That Riley won't be a big sister like she wants. That this is it for our family. Not that it's not perfect the way it is, but I think it's human nature to always want more especially if what you have is so good. But I would really like to have a son. Or another daughter. I just want another child. <br />
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There's also the fear that if we do get another child that one will be more of a challenge than Riley ever was. Yes there have been frustrating moments - but those truly have been rare and far between. She started sleeping through the night at 6 weeks. She's never been that susceptible to illness other than the rare case of the sniffles or a cough. She's never been a picky eater other than a complete and utter disdain for peanuts and peanut butter. Or anything that those two things might be lurking in.<br />
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There was the time a few years ago when she had sudden and unexplained loss of balance. That was a fun day going through three doctors starting with her pediatrician and ending with a pediatric neurologist and an MRI. Turns out it was only a buildup of a huge plug of wax in her ear causing a pressure imbalance. It was without a doubt the scariest thing I have ever been through. And I've had several scary instances over the past few years where I thought I was going to lose one of my brothers. This was by far the worst thing to ever see. Trying to calm our three year old as she is laying in a hospital bed in her peach colored scrubs while they give her gas to put her under. There was no way around it as kids can't stay still long enough so they can do the MRI. Watching her fight it at first and then see her eyes roll back as the anesthesia takes effect was the absolute worst as I was trying to keep the thought out of my head that might be the last time I saw her. What would happen if she never woke up? What if something goes wrong? I hope we never have to do that again. It was only after seeing her in the recovery room sleeping soundly that I was able to give into those thoughts and just sobbed at what might have happened.<br />
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Aside from the medical scares, we also worry that the balance of the universe would give us a child who would be the exact opposite from Riley. A child who would keep us up at night. One that wouldn't be as healthy. One wouldn't have Riley's sense of humor, her compassion, or her sensitivity to the needs of others who don't have it as well as she does. I realize that even in the genetic pool it is all a crap shoot, but with adoption there are so many more variables. And it just seems like the more time that passes, the further away that dream of having a larger family becomes. I just have to put it out there and let God do the rest.<br />
<br />James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-9554427827334077522013-01-15T22:44:00.002-05:002013-01-15T22:44:19.837-05:00Facebook and the Magic Genie Jesus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You may have seen this by now. One if any number of pictures of Jesus stating that you should share if you love Jesus - just keep going if you don't. When did Jesus start following Facebook and is that what Christianity has become for the masses? A series of clicks for eternal redemption? <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUOJbwikEIMAxUsS6qGf7_q09Nt7SrxXCQkyrOyJfkhmWjgVRRPEQPo6WCcD5j5FyVdtCqNpTp1zEegbIqPIG7979LNaXS6_QO4a-rDWhvCcRLyz2neyNlhiXhD-TciN16CGjyvVEYYCRX/s1600/Jesus+as+Genie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUOJbwikEIMAxUsS6qGf7_q09Nt7SrxXCQkyrOyJfkhmWjgVRRPEQPo6WCcD5j5FyVdtCqNpTp1zEegbIqPIG7979LNaXS6_QO4a-rDWhvCcRLyz2neyNlhiXhD-TciN16CGjyvVEYYCRX/s1600/Jesus+as+Genie.jpg" /></a></div>
I mean really. I know people are living through Facebook at an incredible pace these days - and increasingly completely unfiltered - so I guess it shouldn't be a surprise that Christianity would become the next version of a Facebook poke. But granting wishes isn't anywhere that I can find in the New Testament. Am I missing something that one of my friends who me is better versed in theology than I can enlighten on? <br />
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Those posts drive me crazy. "Like this picture if you love your mother/grandmother/teacher/fireman/barista." The underlying message is that I'm a cold hearted puppy killer along the lines of the National Lampoon cover that featured someone holding a gun to a puppy's head with the headline "Buy this magazine or the dog gets it." When National Lampoon did it though it was funny. Now it's just beyond annoying and I'm getting closer to clicking the button for "block all news from this person."<br />
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But back to the Jesus posts. Or the Angel pictures promising you something good will happen in the next thirty minutes or days if you like or share it. Facebook is becoming the electronic version of the chain letter. They don't work people - they didn't in the time of snail mail and they didn't work when they worked their way into email and they certainly don't work on Facebook. Redemption/salvation can't be given by clicking a like button on a picture of Buddy Jesus either. You won't have bad things happen if you don't share the picture of the miracle angel. All of it is superstition plain and simple. And I'll let you in on a little secret though, it's bad luck to be superstitious.James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-60467481616658495782013-01-09T21:29:00.000-05:002013-01-12T08:53:34.065-05:00How We Came To Be: A Short Story of Our Family<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: Mark Lee GreatExposure@aol.com</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Once upon a time, a little over twelve years ago, I met Robbie and had no idea that my life was about to take another sharp turn from the direction I thought I was headed. Funny thing about life, you make plans and get an idea of where you're headed in life. Then you get sideswiped by a Mac truck and suddenly you're facing a new direction. Most of the time you come out of it intact, but completely shaken up. As I've said before, being in a relationship was not what I wanted when I met Robbie, but there I was a few months in and was hooked.</div>
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An earlier "Mac truck" completely altered the course of my life when I came out. I always wanted to be a father but gave up on that idea once I accepted that I was gay. When I came out (the first time was in the early eighties) and there just some things gay men didn't do. In fact were expected not to do. No white picket fence - okay. Small house in the 'burbs - gone. No wife - whew! No kids. Sigh.<br />
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No kids. That was the hardest part about the coming out process. In fact it was probably the biggest reason I broke up with my first serious boyfriend. It was all too much, too fast and I was just not ready to wrap my head around everything that I was giving up. It was too big of a sacrifice leaving behind all the things I was raised to want and strive for. Looking back now it seems rather silly, especially from this side of "The Big Life Changing Event." Funny thing is, the big changes are usually brought about by small things. In this case it was a newspaper article about a man named Craig Peterson.<br />
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Craig Peterson, one man who made a big impact in my life - our lives - without ever meeting him. In the paper one day was an article about how he adopted his boys. Originally he was going to adopt them with his partner but in the middle of the process the partner bravely decided that he really didn't want to be a father and bailed. I'm not sure how Mr. Peterson felt about that, but to me it probably worked out for the best since they hadn't completed the adoption and the boys hadn't had a chance to bond with the ex. I would go into more detail about the Peterson family but I personally don't know them and I couldn't possibly tell their story properly. Plus I would have to get out my soapbox about what he and his family where subjected to during the process of making the family whole again and I just don't have the energy right now.<br />
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All the old "wants" starting coming back after reading the article . I had watched as my brothers started their families and I became the uncle who had moved away from home to make a different life. Up until the point I finished reading the article everything was going okay with my life. I had my own house, I was dating a good guy, and I had a good group of friends. Now I was facing a new direction again. Did I tell Robbie about what I wanted? Of course. Our relationship was still relatively new so I figured if it wasn't something he was interested in it wouldn't hurt so bad to end things right there. So I gave him the article to read and held my breath. I think his reaction was something along the lines of "I think I want to be a dad too, but let me think about it for a while" or something to that effect. Then he left for the night saying we'd talk about it later.<br />
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Later came the next day when he sat down with me on the second-hand sofa in my urban bungalow he said the he had grown up expecting to be a father one day but had given up the possibility once he had came out. The article had changed what was impossible to him to a possibility again. Robbie said that if I wanted to look into adoption he was willing to also. I think we had been together over a year at that point spending just about everyday with each other at that point and we started our journey to make our family complete by looking first at international adoption. <br />
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One of the things that made international adoption appealing to us was that the agency we had met with said we would be guaranteed to get a baby with them whereas with domestic we would probably be eligible for older or special needs children. We were really looking to adopt a baby - a child around 2 or younger for a couple of reasons. Bonding with a younger child is supposed to be much easier was the biggest. Our next step was in trying to figure out which country to adopt from. Depending on the country there were several hurdles to overcome the biggest being sexuality. We discovered pretty early on that only one of us would be doing the adopting and that we would have to lie about our relationship - not ideal for us but a condition we could work with. <br />
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The second hurdle was cost. Again, depending on the country costs can differ dramatically. It may seem like an inconsequential thing to consider, but if we were going to have to go broke in order to bring a baby home it didn't make sense. Nothing like bringing a third person into your life and not being able to afford the roof over our heads because we had spent the next twelve years worth of mortgage payments on the legal costs of bringing home an international baby.<br />
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We also had to pick the country based on how long we were expected to stay in the country - which could be from a few days to a few months. Brazil requires that you speak Portuguese which is it's own challenge seeing as how I have difficulty with my native one. Also with international adoptions we could have picked the sex of the child we were getting. (Keep in mind this was eleven to twelve years ago and a lot of things have changed on international adoption laws and treaties.) And then the next "Mac truck" came along.<br />
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Robbie was offered a position at a university in Chicago - and after some discussion he accepted it. We put the adoption plans on hold for a bit, figuring that with housing being part of his compensation package we would be able to easily save money for the adoption process. Chicago was a city we had talked about living in because we had always had a good time when ever we went there for a weekend trip. <br />
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The first year saw Robbie settling into his new role and I was busy turning a university apartment (read institutional) into something more to our tastes. Every room of the apartment was furnished with the exception of the master bedroom. We had just bought a new bedroom suite the year before moving and didn't want to get rid of it. Also gone were the pieces of "artwork" the university had paid someone a large amount of money to hang really high up on the walls. They would have looked better in a Motel 6.<br />
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One day Robbie came home with some exciting news. He had met a woman... Wait, that's not quite right. Robbie came home to tell me that he had been working that day with a woman who had adopted two little girls along with her partner through an agency in Oak Park called Adoption Link of Illinois. Adoption Link is an agency working in domestic adoptions of African American and multi-racial children. They were having a family picnic that weekend and Robbie's coworker thought it might be a good way for us to learn more about the agency and what they did. We met up with them and had a great time meeting other families of all walks of life with the same thing in common. Everyone had the same warm glow on their faces when talking about their families, how they came to be, and especially when they talked about their children. We were hooked.<br />
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I'd like to say that we were so excited that we started the paperwork right away. What is closer to the truth is that we were scared. Were we making the right decision? What was it going to be like raising a child of a different race? How were people going to react? Luckily Adoption Link has all those questions and many more covered as it wasn't simply a matter of filling out some paperwork and signing some checks every so often. There were criminal background checks, fingerprinting, home visits, psychological evaluations, a portfolio of what we could offer the child to be shown to the birth parent(s), and classes to take. The reality is that anyone who goes through the adoption process is probably more prepared and grilled about why they want to have children than the average person. Sometimes I think there would be a lot less child abuse if every person of child bearing age had to go through the same process as prospective adoptive parents.<br />
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Robbie and I took the process slow as we had met a guy who right after starting the adoption process was picked by a birth mother. That would be similar to finding out you were pregnant and the baby arriving the next week which is how we didn't want to do things. So we took our time filling out the necessary paperwork, getting fingerprinted, and having the home studies completed in order to become licensed foster parents. And Adoption Link did warn us that it would be a long process since we were a gay couple as it was still a huge taboo in the African American community to give a child up for adoption let alone to a gay household. But they did tell us if we were patient that in about two and a half years we would become parents. They were right on the money with the timeline.<br />
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After one set back - we were chosen by a birth mother to adopt her son who was due in January of '07 - we stopped talking about the process. Robbie would still hound the agency to get updates every few weeks, but we didn't discuss it. Even knowing for a few months and then having the link fall through was enough that I couldn't hope any longer that getting a baby was going to happen. We quietly and literally shut the door on the room that was to become a nursery and went on with our lives planning to take a vacation to Florida at the end of May that following year. <br />
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One afternoon, the second week of May, I was walking back from Little Italy after a tanning session (Midwest skin tends to burn easily in the sub-tropical Florida sun) when I got a call from Robbie. He said something about Margaret (she founded and ran the agency), little girl born the week before, and that's when things started getting a little blurry around the edges and I had to sit down on the curb along Taylor Street. Once I was able to see again I had him start over to make sure that I heard him correctly. There was a baby girl born the previous week, she was still in the hospital, the agency was giving us the first option because we had been on the list so long, and they needed to know our answer in 24 hours. What happened the rest of the day is gone. I somehow found my way back home - six long city blocks away - where I had to wait for Robbie to finish working out the rest of his day.<br />
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There really wasn't much of a discussion once he got home. There were a few complications with the birth and she would have to stay in the hospital a few more weeks - which was fine with us as it gave us a little more time to prepare mentally - and we said "of course we'll take her." One of the stipulations which still saddens me is that the agency didn't want us to go to the hospital to see our girl. The hospital was close to where we lived and was in the middle of an African American community. Adoption Link was afraid that if the hospital thought they only dealt with gay and lesbian couples the hospital would stop contacting them when they had a birth mother who wasn't already working with an agency. <br />
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So after three of the longest weeks of my life, we got the call from the social worker that she was on her way to the agency with Riley and to meet her there to sign some paper work and get our daughter. Oh, and to make sure we had the car seat or we couldn't leave with her. One day before she turned a month old and two days before I turned 46 we finally brought Riley home. She will always be the best birthday present I will ever receive. Oh yeah, the Florida Vacation was cancelled which with the start of our new family was so worth it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33Z1C4ufn5mUnX-yGIuyKINnc4bP9yXpIAWAyW9Um1B5yjKscWFMUGGzLCpVhjcCB__lQ9ThrQ-BeIDjAoJb-3nxYTyk4eKQwCAI-VZsl3u78beyWp5l5XuDxdOBSvhJy7Cq1Mmf3RIlA/s1600/Riley+%2526+Jim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh33Z1C4ufn5mUnX-yGIuyKINnc4bP9yXpIAWAyW9Um1B5yjKscWFMUGGzLCpVhjcCB__lQ9ThrQ-BeIDjAoJb-3nxYTyk4eKQwCAI-VZsl3u78beyWp5l5XuDxdOBSvhJy7Cq1Mmf3RIlA/s320/Riley+%2526+Jim.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First day as a new dad.</td></tr>
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<br />James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-68697753561898006182013-01-02T22:56:00.000-05:002013-01-02T22:56:08.086-05:00A Small (?) Challenge for 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Ck8MTCIe2muPS3q1lYN8U99pY-OE1sw1zra1TEVhhZmQVOBF9BBcHNYDH8QKMLBsOL5UUP-_7LuSehfHmsgIGATVnVPnDKk1DBGgXyHRrXFKw44AcS6zMpRJVb7xOXGa8BVU-4VSx6Qs/s1600/January.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Ck8MTCIe2muPS3q1lYN8U99pY-OE1sw1zra1TEVhhZmQVOBF9BBcHNYDH8QKMLBsOL5UUP-_7LuSehfHmsgIGATVnVPnDKk1DBGgXyHRrXFKw44AcS6zMpRJVb7xOXGa8BVU-4VSx6Qs/s1600/January.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Ck8MTCIe2muPS3q1lYN8U99pY-OE1sw1zra1TEVhhZmQVOBF9BBcHNYDH8QKMLBsOL5UUP-_7LuSehfHmsgIGATVnVPnDKk1DBGgXyHRrXFKw44AcS6zMpRJVb7xOXGa8BVU-4VSx6Qs/s320/January.jpg" width="320" /></a>Last year my nephew and a few other Facebook Friends had posted pictures for a Photo A Day challenge. This year I saw John was once again posting pictures for it. This is the challenge for January that he placed on his page a number of days ago and I thought I would try participating this year. Yesterday was a simple assignment since it was simply about "today" and I'll post that picture here for people to see at the end of this post. Today is also a fairly easy one as it's only been a week since Christmas and I have a few new things to photograph. I promise that I won't subject you to every picture everyday, but I will update you from time to time with some of the photographs I'm more particularly proud of. <br />
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I've decided also to combine it with a little twist. I don't remember exactly where or what the suggestion was. Maybe it was writing down thoughts on slips of paper and putting them in a large container throughout the year. The idea of that exercise is to at the end of the day to write down one good thing that has happened to you today. There are so many people out there who feel that there is only bad things, unfortunate things, things out of their control all happening to them in a constant barrage of bad news. Sometimes it's just paying attention to the good things in your life to eventually break the cycle of "whoa is me" to help see the good things around us everyday. It may be something as big as getting a special recognition or promotion at work or something as little as noticing the way the lawn sparkles under the frost as the beams of the car headlights sweep across the grass.</div>
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That is my challenge for myself and for you. I realize I may be a day late in suggesting (or passing on) this idea but I feel if you think back to yesterday you can come up with one good thing that happened to you. For me it was spending a quiet afternoon with my family, my niece and her boyfriend, and just having a good time around a dinner that didn't exactly turn out as hoped. Dinner was the background story. The time with family is the big story. </div>
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It could be a simple old shoe box that you put those scraps of paper in. It could be a glass jar so you can see the slips of paper building up. I would suggest thought that you date the events of your life as they get placed away. An advantage to this would be you could just grab something back out at random to help you through a particularly bad day and maybe give you a spark in remembering something good about that day. I do remember though that the suggestion was to write at the end of the day and keeping the container bedside. Maybe it's just a small way to give thanks and remember that even in the darkest of night there are thousands of small points of light that help guide our way.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwdQXH2b8jbNSfHBYruqu207q-5-yNQv2aZD96avnJoHFxGe3DZ0SQx39ai6yoG9wYEsmgwmrxbqPGX3xxtpvQrR7bWC4IkUoNpDlltDxNFzw3wGCjahfVf5z9oJXsW9uIjwSFE_keC-t/s1600/Today.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwdQXH2b8jbNSfHBYruqu207q-5-yNQv2aZD96avnJoHFxGe3DZ0SQx39ai6yoG9wYEsmgwmrxbqPGX3xxtpvQrR7bWC4IkUoNpDlltDxNFzw3wGCjahfVf5z9oJXsW9uIjwSFE_keC-t/s320/Today.jpg" width="320" /></a>And as promised here is the picture from January 1, 2013 taken around 8:00 am EST and is the view from our front door. <br />
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James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-80661172273783516312013-01-01T21:19:00.000-05:002013-01-01T21:19:48.224-05:00"...we are here to help each other get through this thing, whatever it is.” Dr. Mark VonnegutToday is the start of a brand new year - no news there unless you live in a cave. This is the time when we reflect back on the prior year and try to wrap up everything that has happened. Or we try an exercise in futility by looking forward and guess what the new year is bringing. Even worse are the posts about trying to make improvements in our lives through resolutions, promises, and pledges. Ugh. I'll spare you any of that today.<br />
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This blog has been a big pain in my ass at times quite honestly. More than a few times I've even contemplated pulling the plug and not writing it any longer. I've put a lot of pressure on myself to come up with things that may be witty, sometimes profound, or just plain observations about life around me. Something has happened recently that has given me a change of heart and spurred me to write maybe a little more often than I have in the past year or so. <br />
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The Internet can be a great time waster while pursuing information/knowledge. For someone like me there are a lot of distractions (look! a squirrel!) that have kept me from being a little more productive with the time I have. I'd like to say that the reason I haven't written more is that I've been trying to stay away from the Internet in general because of it. That is so not the case with me. Then something happened that makes me want to write more. It may be hubris on my part, but maybe this really isn't anything more than trying to help other people. The title of this post comes from the response given to Kurt Vonnegut by his son when the senior Vonnegut posed the question to his offspring about the meaning of life. It may not be the best answer, but sometimes the simplest reason is enough.<br />
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Years ago, decades actually, our family minister told me that God has a plan for all of us, we just need to listen closely to find out what that plan is and do it. Ha! Easier said than done. Recently though I've had the great privilege of chatting with a young man on the other side of the planet. He discovered my blog by chance and contacted me to chat about a few things he has read here. Over the course of the past month or so I've developed a friendship with him. One of the things that he said is that for the first time he feels that someone out there understands what he feels. He has never told anyone before that he is gay. <br />
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He's from a small town in his country and feels that he has no one close to him to talk to about his feelings. Very similar to my early years growing up in a small town, he's afraid that he will lose the few friends he does have. At first I felt a little bit uncomfortable with this new role as mentor, but I've come to see it as helping a friend talk through things and I've become more than just a little protective of him. Once he said he was very near to telling a friend that he is gay, but at the last minute didn't. He hated that he couldn't say it.<br />
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I don't like giving advice. It puts me in an uncomfortable position of feeling like I am then responsible for that person for any outcome to their decision. One of the things I told him though was to come out at his own pace, tell people only when he feels comfortable doing so. Relaying my own personal stories as well as coming out stories of other friends I think is the best way and I reminded him that it's his life to live however he wants and he only has to answer to himself and his own timetable for if and when he does come out to people. The people in his life who truly care about him won't care one way or another and the ones who react negatively were not really his friends to begin with. True friends won't care except that they want to see you happy with your life.<br />
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Well he told someone last night. He's started out the New Year with revealing his true nature to the very friend that he had nearly told several weeks ago. Their response? They love him no matter what and just want him to be happy. So here's to you to my young friend. It takes a lot of courage to live life honestly and I'll always be there to help and support you in any manner I can.<br />
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Now, when do I get my toaster oven?<br />
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James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-53407718462395430252012-12-25T08:30:00.003-05:002012-12-25T10:55:17.653-05:00Holy Night<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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Last night our family joined our neighbors family to go to a Christmas Eve service at their church. It isn't far from our house and is a small church I've passed by many times on the way home from work. (Trinity Christian for any locals who may want to know.) We followed the Wises - funny, I just got that, three Wise women and one Wise man - to hear the story of the Christ child being born in a manger. A story I have heard dozens of times. We walked into the church and I thought "well this is different." There are no pews for people, only padded upholstered stacking chairs that you might find in an office building to be used in multi-purpose room. The sanctuary was lined along the outer walls with cast-off sofas and chairs which would have been more at home in someones' family room. The most striking difference in this sanctuary was the dais wasn't used for a pulpit and choir but instead had several round table and chairs with more sofas and chairs lining it. <br />
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What would normally be thought of as the dais was in the middle of one wall of the sanctuary - not raised above everyone, but on the same level with only a simple Cross attached to the wall between two sets of stained glass windows. The choir was actually a band of four: one man playing guitar and operating as the lead singer, a woman accompanying him while playing the accordion, one man was playing the bongos (which I've also never seen done) and the fourth man was playing the mandolin. We had just arrived as they were starting the evenings singing. Simple. Unadorned. Four instruments and hundreds of voices old and young singing along to "Joy to the World" followed by "Hark the Herald Angel Sing," my heart remembering the words without having to look at the program.<br />
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The pastor spoke then of the often told Christmas story and said to us that we have heard the story so many times we probably don't even hear the words anymore. We sing the same songs so much that we don't hear their meaning anymore. And he asked us to really listen this time to hear the words that were being said, to open up to what the story really is about... the gift of love. For god so loved us that he sacrificed his only son to save us.<br />
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We ended the services with "Silent Night" accompanied by the band as people held candles and passed the light around. The lights of the sanctuary were dimmed as the light that was passed grew stronger one flicker of flame at a time. At the end it was only the light of the candles (glow sticks for the little ones) and the voices of people singing again the first verse:<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><b><span style="color: #336699; font-size: small;">Silent night, holy night<br />All is calm, all is bright<br />Round yon
Virgin Mother and Child<br />Holy Infant so tender and mild<br />Sleep in heavenly
peace<br />Sleep in heavenly peace</span></b></span></h2>
May you find peace, love, and joy. That is my Christmas wish for everyone. Merry Christmas.James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-25109490720309132952012-12-15T08:04:00.000-05:002012-12-15T08:04:12.312-05:00Focusing on the Wrong Issue
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One thing I want to say is all of you who speak about how we
shouldn't turn this into a talk about gun controls or bans because of what
happened today... I want you to go and tell that to the families of the people
who have lost their children. Face to face. Go ahead, tell them it's not guns
that murdered their child, that a person did and see how much solace that gives
those mothers and fathers. And those who say we need guns in the hands of
innocent people to protect themselves from this sort of evil are delusional.
Not one person inside or outside of law enforcement with a gun was able to
prevent this horrific tragedy. NOT ONE.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There is one particular heinous Facebook post this afternoon
that said we might as well ban machetes and chainsaws (lay off the horror
movies buddy) if we start legislating stricter gun control. If somebody is
coming at you with a knife you at least have a chance to run or shield yourself
from an attacker and have a greater chance of surviving. Plus there’s less
chance of a knife (or chainsaw?!?) attack turning into a mass murder. And
chainsaw attacks – wouldn’t you hear the chainsaw being revved up before
the-would-be attacker got close? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Second amendment arguers can also step back. The founding
fathers could never have foreseen the invention of the semi- automatic weapon.
Check your history books and ask some experts about the time it takes to
actually load a Revolutionary War Era musket with powder and a lead ball.
Accuracy of muskets? Ask yourself why the troops were told not to fire until
they saw “the whites of the eyes” of the British. It’s because they couldn’t
waste a shot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today’s weaponry is just
heinous. </span></div>
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I wrote that yesterday with tears streaming down my face. I stand behind these statements today. I don't want to read or hear the mass murderer's name or why he did it - or how focusing on mental health issues could have prevented it. Truth is it would take more tax dollars which no one is willing to give up right now. Since the 1970's this country has systematically dismantled any mental health programs that may have kept someone like this man off the streets and away from our children. I'm not even sure that he would have been locked away. Did anyone think he was a threat? Right now though, the story needs to focus on the monstrosity of this act and others like it in the recent past. I don't care to see reporters pushing microphones in the faces of the families who are dealing with grief. I don't want to see news trucks surrounding funerals and disturbing these families at what rightfully so should not be a public spectacle. I almost didn't publish this post because of that. However I do feel that it is more than past time to have a real and honest discussion about gun control. </h4>
James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-41123492530344427042012-12-13T23:00:00.000-05:002012-12-22T21:43:03.470-05:00I'm Dreaming of a...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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One of the hazards of this time of year is the constant onslaught of messages telling us to create the most magical Christmas ever! Compound that with this being the busiest time at work and you can see why I just wanted to go hibernate somewhere - alone. Instead I decided to make the best of it and tune to the Holiday Station on streaming radio with my smart phone instead of hearing the same 20 pop songs ad nauseum. Yeah I know, my first mistake. Here's some things I've learned from listening to "Sounds of the Season" for the past few days while at work.<br />
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1) The worst holiday song is not, I repeat is not "The Little Drummer Boy." In fact The Jackson Five's version is probably the best in my opinion because it is decidedly more upbeat. Plus you can't get a better message than a song that says giving of yourself is the best gift. No the worst song by far is "Baby's First Christmas" By Connie Francis. Just typing those words has caused the song to loop endlessly in my brain. It's an inane, cloying, and insipid piece of work that someone found in a dustbin somewhere and decided to throw into the mix for a little variety. Which brings me to...<br />
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2) There are only 15 Christmas songs that have ever been written. Go ahead, name more than fifteen. Can't do it can you? There are on the other hand thousands of versions of the same songs recorded every year. It's a record label contract requirement that at some point in a singer's career they have to record an album of Christmas music. Need proof? Barry Manilow. Bette Midler. Britney Spears. That point is usually on the down side of their career trajectory. And this brings me to another singer who probably has done more harm with their renditions of Christmas songs...<br />
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3) Dean Martin. Rudy the Red Beaked Reindeer? Really? I understand that artists want to put their own "stank" on music but this is one that should have been bitch-slapped and told "nuh uh." I'm blaming him for everyone jumping on the bandwagon for the besmirchment of "Baby, It's Cold Outside." Before Deano got a hold of it it was about two people who are trying to come up with any excuse to stay together a little longer for an evening. After listening to Dean's version several times a day I can understand why people think the guy put something in the gal's drink. I always thought that the girl was trying to give herself an out and saying she wasn't responsible for her actions. You have to remember that at the time the song was written it wasn't respectable for a single woman to be in a man's home after a certain time of the night.<br />
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The old saw about everything in moderation also applies to Christmas music. I don't know why stations haven't figured out that all or nothing doesn't work. A better way would be to mix Christmas music in with the regular stuff. Oh, one last thing, would someone destroy all the copies of 'Babies First Christmas" please?<br />
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<br />James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-58318738704777264072012-10-06T15:48:00.000-04:002012-10-06T15:48:23.482-04:00Karma's a BitchRecently I was chatting with a friend online when I reminded him that a comment he had made had come around full circle and bit him on the ass. He was talking about having to do housework while his husband was watching TV. He had just posted a comment about sitting with another househusband drinking coffee at the local beanery while making fun of all the people who had to work.<br />
"Karma" I said.<br />
To which he replied "So Karma really is a bitch."<br />
"Yes, and a lying one at that!"<br />
He said he knew there was a story there and would remind me of it later.<br />
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This isn't it.<br />
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Karma really can come and bite you in the ass. I prefer not to play with her right now and if I tell that story I was referring to with my friend I would be deeply afraid of the ramifications that would henceforth come my way. Superstitious you ask? No, not really. I just like to cover my bases and not take chances like that. Besides I really don't want to delve into something from my past that may cause embarrassment to someone else as it doesn't paint that person in the best light.<br />
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This is more about my bad memory and having Robbie remind me of all sorts of stupid things. Like Karma wasn't who I wasn't the name of the woman I was thinking of. Karma is a very nice woman HE works with. My awful person has an entirely different name rendering my pun moot.<br />
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He's constantly having to remind me of appointments, commitments, dinner arrangements, what we're doing the next weekend and where I left my keys. I'd be concerned about memory loss but then I spot something shiny and that's the last of that thought. I'm serious about the shiny objects though. Distractions are the bane of my.... Oh look, Monica Potter is on TV. I really liked her in Patch Adams. Didn't care for the movie that much but was really enamored with her. She looks like a blond version of Julia Roberts to me. Maybe they could play sisters in a movie together.<br />
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Again, I digress. There is a point (I think) to my ramblings and hopefully for your sake I'll get to it shortly. Karma. In popular western societal usage it seems to be referring to a payback for deeds committed good or bad. In cliches it would be defined as what goes around comes around. That is not something I wish to happen to me. Plus the fact that whenever I bring up someone's name from the past, they seem to have a way of manifesting their way into my present. So I'm choosing not to sling Karmic Krap out there and have it land on my face.<br />
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That brings me to my point. Several people have suggested that I write about the events that have happened over my 51+ years that have made me who I am. To do so would be naming names and keeping a ledger. I know that the tell-all memoirs are hot right now - especially ones that tell how people have overcome adversity to become the person they are today. Strong. Determined. Wise. One person in the tell-all camp said that if people don't want to be seen in a unflattering light they wouldn't do things to cause hurt. On the other side of the argument a very dear friend said she actively chose not to tell certain things in her memoirs knowing that she would hurt people near and dear to her. Even in that very conscience decision she still inadvertently hurt some people anyway. And just how wise can someone be by inflicting pain on those people who have caused pain? Sure, they may be strong and determined in doing so, I'm just not sure how wise that is.James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-71101834772781961452012-10-03T22:06:00.002-04:002012-10-03T22:06:36.609-04:00Almost Clouds<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7pk9mZsmGwGswGghJVTSDPT-Ny8tDrJXbFQBzKJbPekC-y7920poM2IKr8yeWmeEQBTcVi6uM0dgNmZjUve7pv4AfxzGgcQCRVAQQshRQ2k9EMmKY5InNNHKViTDQD1UaZUNqNKYdMDid/s1600/Amandas+Coverphoto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7pk9mZsmGwGswGghJVTSDPT-Ny8tDrJXbFQBzKJbPekC-y7920poM2IKr8yeWmeEQBTcVi6uM0dgNmZjUve7pv4AfxzGgcQCRVAQQshRQ2k9EMmKY5InNNHKViTDQD1UaZUNqNKYdMDid/s400/Amandas+Coverphoto.jpg" title="Photo by Amanda Milloway from her Facebook page" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Amanda Milloway from her Facebook page</td></tr>
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There are people who are meant to do great things and we are all better for having them among us. Today is the day to remember one of them and honor a friend who was on this planet oh so briefly. She was someone I never had the privilege of meeting in person but could call friend anyway. Even though we were separated by hundreds of miles we were friends brought together through someone else's blog. We became friends on Facebook and celebrated each other's milestones and achievements, and grieved our losses together. <br />
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I'm not going to go into detail with what happened because frankly I don't know them or need them. All I know is that Amanda Burgess Milloway is no longer with us and that grieves me deeply. There are many things I could say that frankly seem empty and hollow. I'll just let this speak of her although it too is inadequate in its telling of the person we lost: <a href="http://www.memorialsolutions.com/sitemaker/memsol.cgi?user_id=752273">http://www.memorialsolutions.com/sitemaker/memsol.cgi?user_id=752273</a>James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4221418339905611816.post-77526532814783406792012-05-17T20:08:00.000-04:002012-05-17T20:08:21.557-04:00Let Me Grab My Soapbox - Part 3There has been quite a bit in the news since I started this soapbox rant. The last few weeks have been particularly emotional with the passage of Amendment One in North Carolina and the subsequent pronouncement from President Obama that marriage equality is the right thing to do. Now I'd like to add a few things to the fray.<br />
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First allowing gay and lesbian couples to legally marry won't cause the Earth to spin off it's axis. In fact it quite possibly will have a stabilizing effect and close up that hole in the ozone layer. (Hey if you can spout ridiculous theories about what marriage equality will cause then so can I.) Both Canada and Great Britain have allowed same sex couples to participate in legal marriages for going on ten years now and those countries have not disappeared under a black cloud of God's wrath.<br />
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Second, while this country was founded on the principle of freedom of religion let us not forget that the first settlers from Europe were the Puritans who were escaping religious persecution. And now hundreds of years later it seems to be perfectly acceptable to persecute/bully people when they don't subscribe to certain views on what is properly Christian. And please don't take this as an anti-Christian rant - it isn't. It's a rant against those who scream the loudest from the conservative right that their freedoms and rights are now being trampled on. Get over yourselves. Nothing is being taken away from you. If you don't believe in marriage equality then don't marry someone of the same sex. No one is forcing you to do so. And for the matter of protecting your children from the "homosexual agenda" - can you get any more ridiculous? No one is a bigger influence on a child than a child's parents if those parents are doing their job. If as most of you claim that a child is best raised in a household with both a mother and father then you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Isn't it as simple as explaining to your children that your beliefs are such that you see marriage equality as wrong?<br />
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Third, if you think that marriage equality will force your church to allow same sex couples to wed in your sanctuaries you need to consider this: are people now allowed to be wed in your church who don't believe what your church teaches? Do Catholics allow non-Catholic couples to be wed in their churches? Do Rabbis perform ceremonies for Baptists in their temples? What makes you think that we want to be married in such a hostile environment! Trust me when I say that we don't. There are plenty of other places, courthouses, churches, and temples that will be more than happy to perform marriage ceremonies for us.<br />
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Last, this needs to be considered: when was the last time you heard of someone walking into a church to get a marriage license? You haven't. Marriage licenses are proffered from an office of the government. The conservative right wants to make this a religious matter when the simple truth is that a marriage certificate is a legal contract between two people of consenting age, witnessed by other people by placing their signatures upon it. Any religious connotations beyond that is what you want to make of it.<br />
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The following was found on Buzzfeed:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWY40GszgJiyyPxZzjdqtlXL8kvVhOBn3D3leURcCe_2h6rV8cRRGPSjFRrqVdIKk5MtvZqHYy-jMi8e5gYwkC6e2rwKcfHcz6iI3zyZpcxtGUgNPpkwcdKfbAtzjglFrOFY7DcZ5xGRNx/s1600/Explaining+gay+rights+to+an+idiot..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWY40GszgJiyyPxZzjdqtlXL8kvVhOBn3D3leURcCe_2h6rV8cRRGPSjFRrqVdIKk5MtvZqHYy-jMi8e5gYwkC6e2rwKcfHcz6iI3zyZpcxtGUgNPpkwcdKfbAtzjglFrOFY7DcZ5xGRNx/s1600/Explaining+gay+rights+to+an+idiot..jpg" /></a></div>James Shuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01067507379809500782noreply@blogger.com2