Introspective musings from last night and my dvar

Last night I delivered a talk to my synagogue, what we call a dvar Torah for the annual Trans Day of Remembrance. It’s all rather new for me, as I spent a lifetime avoiding public speaking, a result of a childhood traumatic experience. I chuckle that now at 75, I’m finally confronting that fear head on.

So, the sanctuary was filled, and my moment came. I tied the remembrance of Avraham (Abraham) and Sara to our own remembrance of trans lives lost to murder, and the terrible toll it takes on the rest of us, ending with an excerpt of a spoken word piece I’d written several years ago after the murder of two trans women in Washington DC.

What followed was something I was totally unprepared for. Accolades from the members of my community, including the Zoom Makom Minyan. Am I ever so grateful for that moment. My emotions were all over the place, for this was foreign territory for me. I’m just not accustomed to praise, I guess. It was a moment that was satisfying, for continuing to overcome that lifelong fear, but also a community that demonstrated loving support in a spectacular way. After, I got to speak with Kochava for a few minutes, and then to the bubbe (Grandmother) of the Bat Mitzvah girl for this week. She was a poet and I wanted to talk more, but my transit driver arrived, and I had to leave. ::chuckling:: Anyone who knows me knows I like to schmooze. That was my one regret for the evening, having to leave so soon.

So in this moment of introspection, I am filled with gratitude. My Shir Tikvah congregation is teaching me in profound ways. At this old age, to be conquering a childhood trauma is spectacular. I am grateful to Rabbi Joey who asked me if I would deliver this Dvar, and his support as I put it all together. I’m grateful to Rabbi Arielle for her kind words and a voice like an angel. To Dan Nadel whose music I have appreciated for a long time and how wonderful to be seated by him as he worked his magic. Thank you Shir Tikvah who have shown chesed (loving kindness) in so many ways. I feel such love for you all!

Shavua tov!

Time to Choose: Democracy or Fascism

It saddens me to see what is happening in America today. Okay as a teenager, I helped a guy out on his farm once building fences. His son brought me to his bedroom, pulled out a box, showing all sorts of Nazi paraphernalia. A bit disgusting, but no great alarm. I as a progressive had no illusions of jack-booted marchers coming down the streets tearing up shops, burning synagogues, taking people to concentration camps. No, just one deluded soul enamored by a society that had brought so much mayhem.

Now though, there is ample cause for concern. For the record, I’m Jewish, transgender, lesbian. The embrace of fascism (or Christian Nationalism, Nazism was a Christian Nationalist state lest we forget) by a major political party is on display for all to see. Conspiracy theories abound, antisemitism confronts us at every turn, transphobia, homophobia, and misogyny are being written into law in state after state. There was the attack on our capitol on January 6. 4 years ago, we saw the worse antisemitic attack in American history at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburg. Antisemitism is increasing at every turn on the right, but tragically increasingly on the left as well. A few years ago, trans murders were in the low 20’s, but last year and this, they have doubled. Just last night someone broke into Nancy Pelosi’s house looking for her and attacking her husband. Democratic lawmakers increasingly are getting death threats.

I heard today that the Department of Justice has issued an alert fearing possible violence at the polls. How do I feel about all that’s going on?

I’M ANGRY AS HELL ABOUT IT. Around the world, democracies are in peril. I look at folks like Putin, and their embrace of fascism and the number of people in America, Republicans, who increasingly look to him as their ideal. Our former president who virtually salivated in the presence of the likes of a Putin or Kim Jong Un. These extremists in America have their own news sources, and with the new owner of Twitter, an outlet for their propaganda.

I know this. If you are a refugee, a black or brown person, a Jew, a Muslim, a member of the LGBTQ plus community, a woman (unless you are one of the good ones who is subservient and obedient), then fascists will use you as a scapegoat. That is how they get and hold power. The more power they get, the more they will attack.

I mentioned I’m Jewish. I’ve studied the history around the holocaust. More importantly, I’ve talked to people who survived, either by getting out in time, or enduring the horrors of those dark days. They tell me that it feels now, very similar to what it felt like in the months and years leading up to the Shoah. I believe them.

So, it is my prayer, that we do what we can. This election means EVERYTHING! I believe deeply our very democracy is at stake. I have already voted, and I hope every thinking man and woman does the same. I’ve spent seventy-five years living in a democracy. Please do not let it end now. We must not fear, but we must prevail. Jessica Wicks 10-29-22

Memories: A Gift to Heart

Memories. As I age, they become such an important piece of my life. A scent, a photo, a turn of a phrase can take me back in unexpected ways. Perhaps a smile, even a giggle, a tear, any, or all. The other day, my wife was mumbling to herself. Immediately I am sitting in the living room in the early 90’s and my partner Skip is having a conversation with himself. I ask him if he’s talking to himself and he shoots right back saying, “Only intelligent conversation I can too often have.” We both laugh out loud.

I love the mountains, always have. When I was younger, I would travel, sometimes with my daughter, often with cousins, or sometimes alone. We would hike on mountain trails, communing with nature, and from their peaks look out on the magnificent view down below. We might travel to the Rockies, perhaps the Ozark or Ouachita Mountains, always an amazing two weeks to recharge and interact with the natural world.

The photo above was a mountain stream near Petit Jean State Park in Arkansas. My daughter put on her bathing suit and let the cold mountain water wash over her. I love her and miss her so. Like much of my family, my transness was simply too much. But I will always love her… and… I have the memories. Even as I type this, a smile, and a tear.

So here I sit, old and disabled, but always the possibility of those journeys into the past, a smile and a tear. Outside the leaves have turned yellow and a brilliant red for Autumn is upon us. With that, memories as well. They are a true gift, filling my heart with what has past, lest the void in my present take full hold. There are no more mountains, no more strolls or rigorous climbs to experience the fullness of HaShem’s creation. I do what I can do, volunteer work, my writing (memories again), occasional D’var Torah with my synagogue. Brightened along the way with another moment in time engraved firmly within this heart. I do not wish for youth, but mobility, perhaps some. But I do have love, friends, and the blessing experience formed as memory. Jessica Wicks 10-28-2022

Disability and Steep Stairs

So, it’s been a while since my last posting here. December of 2000. Pain made it too difficult to write. Finally at long last, a purchase of a lap desk made all the difference. I’m writing again!

Since I last posted here, I realized I must surrender my license. Immobility made it unsafe for me to drive anymore. I deeply miss that ability to simply make my way down steep stairs, using one wheelchair to let the other down to the sidewalk, take apart the wheelchair so I can fit it in the trunk, using a strong-arm cane to keep my balance, then hopping into the car and going where I want to go. Hmmm… well maybe not so simply.

I had considered a move, but between current inflation and economic uncertainty, it seems to be a bit risky right now. I think in my heart this kind of thing is not uncommon among the elderly. I have no family nearby, and while I crave that human interaction that was such a part of my life for so long, I am relegated to hours, days, weeks of alone time. Oh, my wife and I talk some, but she is not a talker and where I despise alone time, she loves it! Don’t get me wrong! I deeply love her and honor her need for that alone time. But for me, it’s difficult. I do have a caretaker who comes in two hours a week. For the first hour she does chores. The second hour is relegated to conversation.

I may not be the only one who experiences loneliness. I suspect there are many more. There are many younger people I know. But they lead their busy lives, too busy to bother with a 75-year-old crone.

But… I will not simply sit here and cry in my iced tea. I try to stay busy. I’m active on my synagogue’s caring committee, making sure our volunteers send out cards for Shivas and health issues and such. I’m also doing training to lead Shivas on Zoom for those who desire it. I on occasion make the journey to my shul to deliver a Dvar Torah (a sermon). Mostly I attend now online. I’m presently writing a full Dvar for each week’s Torah Portion, posted in a different blog. I just wrote a Dvar for the Shabbat nearest Trans Day of Remembrance which I’m looking forward to delivering to my congregation on the 18th of November. I do my obligatory housework and spend time reading as well. Also, I am doing Daf Yomi, studying a page a day of Talmud. I’m presently in volume 18.

Loneliness is difficult, and it wears on you over time. But staying busy helps. May my remaining years be productive ones and may we all help to make our world a little bit better. I know this post was a bit of a downer, but they won’t always be that way. Truth involves both the ups and the downs.

One final thought. Imagine a world where we each, myself included, would reach out to somehow make another life a bit better. Radical no doubt, but it is how we begin to heal the world. Many blessings.

Jessica

Journey to Darkness

Journey to Darkness

Life brings us difficulty and hardship along the way, and we hope we learn and then move on…

Outside the ground is covered with snow. A big snowstorm is expected this weekend. Snow and ice are anathema for an old woman in a wheelchair. If I could get out to begin with.

I found myself staring at the blank tv screen. Most of my day is filled with silence. I love my wife dearly, but she is a true introvert, involved mostly with her projects, quite happy to be at home to pursue such endeavors. A few guests pop in from time to time. Help with a chore now impossible, on maybe 3 or 4 guests to visit and chat since early November. How I treasure those moments, fleeting though they may be.

So how did I reach this stage in my life? I’m a person who loves to be out and about, sharing time and stories with other people. My wife laughingly refers to me as the social butterfly. Learning, enjoying activities at shul or elsewhere makes me so happy. Even in a wheelchair, I could load it into the trunk and head out to wherever life beckoned. On November 1st, it all changed. I was loading the chair in the trunk. After several false starts with the doctor, an MRI was done and I had additional spinal damage that took away all the strength I had in my good leg.

Did I mention we live in an upstairs apartment, the stairs being steep and treacherous? Save for doctor visits, I am captive to these lonely oppressive walls. Coming back from the last doctor visit, as I negotiated the stairs, I became very dizzy. The world was spinning and I sat down and lay back but I felt myself losing consciousness and I reacted by leaning forward, initiating what could have been a long tumble down the stairs, but for the fact my right leg, the one now affected by my back issues, got caught on the stair and I proceeded to be a perfect imitation of a human pretzel, hanging on for dear life knowing that if I let go, well perish the thought. Robin managed to grab my coat, holding on for dear life as I reorganized all my body parts. Muscles overstretched, but they are healing nicely.

So I am wrestling with my place in time. How many YouTube videos can a person watch, or movies, or whatever? A new and very unfamiliar guest has arrived. I never was one to experience depression, something new to cope with. Unexpected tears for no particular reason. “Move,” people say. And how do I do that, the two of us confined in this space unable to go and look. I am starting to sort some stuff, things to toss and things to give away. Hopefully I can find volunteers when I’m ready to unload some of that. I’m doing Daf Yomi, a page a day of the Talmud which takes about 7 ½ years. I read when I can, but pain makes that difficult sometimes. Oh yeah, my pain levels increased in this latest incident. But I cope.

Sleep is my best friend. There my mind can wander, meet new people and see new things, and these walls disappear for a few hours. There is life, and then there is life worth living. As old age and loneliness takes its toll, I wonder where that life worth living can be found? If it can be found? Oh how I do not want to become that person sitting in the chair waiting for that final hour to provide blessed escape. In my heart there is so much life I wish to live. I’d doing the exercises, my part in trying to restore that place. Meanwhile a tear appears, wondering if it will happen at all. For some reason, a very dark poem I wrote many years ago during dark times comes to mind. I will share it here. I transcended it before. Perhaps I shall again.

AIMLESSLY

Like a fish on its side, body still, moved only by the motion about...
Bloated white-gilled swollen amidst the waves.
Currents driving towards, then washing away
But the fish cares not, senses dulled by time.
The flies swarm, waiting for their banquet to wash ashore,
The flesh willingly gives of itself, a feast
To vermin that wait for what they deserve least.
It matters not, no great concern. Serenity has found the fish.
The furious feeding on its entrails proceeds
For they feed on the rotting carcass of solace.

The struggle is over, for the fish has
Surrendered to the bottom feeders;
Its breathless form a delight to those
Who feverishly rip it apart for its peace.
A piece of peace, for the strongest and most ruthless,
Swarming fury, then emptiness.
They have found what the fish has already known.
Bones sink to the ocean floor, some wash ashore
And peace silently waits
To be discovered once more.

Jessica Wicks
copyright October, 1999

Age's Steep Ascent

I can’t put it aside any longer. I prepare to carry down the week’s garbage. Slowly I move bags filled and with an aroma best not described towards the door. I love old homes and my apartment is an old 19th century dwelling, filled with history, character, stories told and untold. What I do not love is their penchant for building steep stairs to enter and leave.

Situating myself in the doorway, holding firmly to the rail for these old legs tend to give way on occasion, I carefully drag the bags down those steps, through the breezeway, and out the side door. By then I’m already weary from pain and bones riddled with arthritis, spine with discs pushing against nerves and back bent with age, and still a few more steps off the porch. Carefully I sit down for a moment, resting and rising again, put the garbage in their proper cannister. It’s time to go back up. On the first step my leg gives and the rail supports me, a short prayer of gratitude, before continuing. If the steps were bad going down, the journey back even more so. One step at a time. Pain radiates up my leg, through the groin, into the small of the back. Then the next step. Same thing. Slowly I ascend.

I’ve a special name for those last three steps. Shit… Hell…F__k, and Damn. Still, as I rise, the light for the apartment beckons. Promise of rest and relaxation. My wheelchair sitting nearby. A short distance to a waiting recliner. I embrace each step. Shit… three more to go. Hell… Okay I know we Jews don’t believe in Hell aside from the hell we find on earth. Still this pain. F__k, and Damn I’m almost there. The light beckons me up and within. A sigh of relief for a journey once again.

So it occurred to me, my journey, discarding the garbage, struggling ever upward, is a metaphor for old age. One day there will be the final journey. Until then, I struggle. I prevail. Embracing both the pain and the light. Like so many before me and so many who will come after.

My Conversion to Judaism : Beit Din and Mikvah

So came the final day. I'd studies so hard over the past year, and deeply involved in synagogue life. At 71 my memory is not what it used to be, but repetition helps until it sticks. I've learned the Hebrew alphabet and some words, working with my chavruta partner. "The Way" that is the holidays of the year, memorizing various blessings, and most important, making may home a Jewish home in partnership with my wife who is not Jewish. It's been an amazing time, driven by a passion postponed for many years. See my last blog post entitled A Conversion Story that says why it was delayed for so long.

But finally the day arrived. We arrived at the Mikvah location where we met up with the three rabbis from Shir Tikvah. My high school buddy Steve who is a Rabbi flew up to participate as well. To say I was nervous was an understatement. Compounding it, the day itself was one of my "fuzzy" days. Something old people sometimes get when the mind is not firing on all cylinders. My wife sat in as did my witness and chavruta partner Kerry who was there to confirm to the rabbis (assuming I got past the Beit Din) that I indeed completely submerged in the Mikvah. In retrospect, I am not too happy about some of my answers, leaving out what I consider important details. But after questioning me on a range of topics related to Judaism and my own Jewish practice, they excused themselves for a short conference, then returned and welcomed me to the tribe, offering special blessings for the moment, then singing a resounding "Mazel Tov and Siman Tov:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hlcHA6bP8o

Then it is time to go to the Mikvah. First I enter the dressing room to prepare. My wife is there to assist. I remove carefully all clothing. I am to enter the Mikvah totally naked as the day I was born, for indeed I am in a sense reborn as a Jew. I shower and make sure I am completely clean. No cosmetics, clean finger nails and toenails. Each step involves a meditation. There is a word called kavanah, or intention. There are seven kavanot for preparation:

Mayyim Hayyim’s Seven Kavanot for Mikveh Preparation

The Holy One created the world in six days, but made it complete with Shabbat, the seventh day. The number seven suggests wholeness and represents the creative process. Seven steps lead into the mikveh.

These seven kavanot - preparatory meditations - are offered in the hope that your immersion will provide you a sense of shleimut or wholeness and peace.

1. Hineni. Here I am.

Take a minute and think about the transition mikveh will help you mark today.

Immersion in the mikveh represents a spiritual transformation from one state to another. In traditional language, your change is from ritually unready (tameh) to ritually ready (tahor). Prepare yourself by writing in a journal, or saying a personal prayer, or reading something of meaning to you. Breathe deeply. Sigh audibly.

2. Hiddur Mitzvah. The unadorned body is beautiful in itself.

Remove all jewelry as well as makeup, paying special attention to the eyes. Remove nail polish on fingers and toes. (Acrylics may stay on if they have been on for more than a month.)

There is no need for adornment or artifice in the mikveh. There should be no physical barriers between the body and the living waters.

3. Nekavim nekavim. You fashioned the human being intricate in design.

Empty your bladder.

Our tradition celebrates and blesses the body in every possible moment and mode.

4. B’tzelem Elohim. I am made in the image of God.

Remove all clothing, eyeglasses, contact lenses, dental plates, hearing aids.

Each person enters the mikveh as naked as the day of his birth, as the day of her birth. Without rank or status. Simply a human being. Gloriously a human being.

5. Elohai neshama shenatata bi tehorah hi. The soul in me is pure.

Shower or bathe with thoughtful attention to the miracle of your own body. Pay attention to every part of yourself. Wash yourself, head to toe; shampoo your hair, lather your shoulders, back, arms, belly, and genitals. Scrub elbows, knees and heels, removing calluses and dead skin. Wash between fingers and toes.

Relax and enjoy. The water of the mikveh will feel even sweeter after this.

6. Kol haneshama t’halel yah. The breath of every living thing praises You.

Clean your ears, blow your nose, brush and floss your teeth, rinse your mouth.

Stand before the mirror. Consider all of your senses. Look into your own eyes and smile. Think about the words that come from your mouth.

7. Tikkun Olam. We can stand for justice; we can build a world of peace and justice.

Clean under your nails - toenails, too. (Nails do not need to be cut.)

Consider the power of your hands and feet to create wholeness in your life, in our world.

When you enter the mikveh do not rush. Walk slowly. Count the seven steps into
the water, stopping on each one. Relax into the embrace of the water, into
whatever the next moment may hold for you.

In the mikveh, every body is a sacred vessel.

So I begin entering the Mikveh. With each step, a flood of memories wash over me. Of the completion of a decades held dream. The oft used phrase is joining the tribe. It really was a simcha, an celebration, but also an obligation to be held dearly. I remember each step into the warm waters, all the while awash in feelings of joy, love, and fulfilled desire. Down I went and submerged the first time. I remained under a few seconds, then recited:

Baruch atah Adonay Eloheinu melekh ha-olam, asher kidshanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu al ha-t'vilah.

Blessed are you, Eternal God, ruler of the universe, who sanctifies us through mitzvot and has enjoined us concerning immersion.

Then I submerge a second time for a few moments:

Sh'ma Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai echad.

HEAR O ISRAEL, THE ETERNAL OUR GOD, THE ETERNAL IS ONE!

Then I submerge the third time:

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheynu melekh ha-olam, shehekheyanu, v'kiy'manu, v'higianu, la-z'man ha-zeh.

Blessed is the Eternal, the God of all creation, who has blessed me with life, sustained me, and enabled me to reach this moment.

In this moment, I am fully Jewish. Kerry awaits with a towel and somewhat dizzy from the flush of emotion, I return to the dressing room. We visit a few minutes outside, then Steve, Kerry, my wife and I head for Cecil's deli for a celebration. It was an amazing day which I will never forget. I still glance at my certificate of conversion and a wide smile appears. A new journey lies ahead.

A Conversion Story: My Journey to Judaism

For many years I have been a part of a church community at First Universalist. It's a wonderful community, deeply devoted to social justice and radical inclusion, and friendships made there will last a lifetime. Still I chose to convert to Judaism, not because of any dissatisfaction, but rather from a deep seated desire over many decades. When a person converts, there is a period of deep study and participation before a Beit Din (Rabbinical Court) is convened, and if they say yes, the person enters the Mikveh (ritual bath) and is fully Jewish. It's a major life change and one I have entered into seriously. Towards the end of our period of study (though study actually continues for a lifetime), I was asked to write a short piece on why I choose Judaism. Here I am sharing what I wrote:

Why I Choose Judaism

History:

My exposure early in life to Jewish practice was minimal. I did have some aunts and uncles who were deeply involved in the early history of the State of Israel, evangelists who for their reasons supported and funneled substantial resources towards Eretz Israel. I saw slide presentations and heard the stories from their repeated journeys there. I had family who were actually there during the six -day war and later the Yom Kippur war. Several classmates were Jewish as well. As a liberal in Tyler, Texas, while attending the UU congregation, there were so few liberals and we tended to cling together with our progressive Jewish brothers and sisters in mutual support, working for our common vision of the world we dreamed.

However, I think I first really became enamored with serious Jewish teaching in a research project studying the Holocaust. My goal at first was to try and understand why it happened and could it happen again. Seen a gay man wrestling with gender identity as well at the time, I knew people like me had been sent to the death camps. I wanted to know why, and could it happen again.

While researching, I learned of the historical, religious, and cultural histories of the Jewish people along with other oppressed groups, and the more I read, well, Judaism resonated deeply. I wasn’t Christian, so no issue there. I wasn’t an Atheist either. I fell in love with Jewish belief and practice. Studying alone from the late seventies (I know this because a new book came out around that time… The First Jewish Catalogue) and into the eighties, I felt I would like to convert. Friends in my LGBTQ community in Houston who were Jewish however said as a gay man, much less trans, conversion wasn’t really possible. Not there, not then anyway. So, I shrugged and set it aside. Over the ensuing years, I tried various Christian denominations, then returned to Unitarian Universalism, the best compromise as a faith community for someone who’s not Christian and can’t be Jewish.

Until recently. My interest in Judaism never waned and I would perk whenever the subject would come up. But it wasn’t until this past year that I learned of changes that had occurred within Reform Judaism. I read of inclusion for LGBTQ folks, and I realized being Jewish was a possibility. I contacted Rabbi Latz and told him I wished to convert and set up our first meeting.

What attracts me to Judaism:

1. I love how we wrestle with Torah, the evolution of faith making our belief relevant in our own time.

2. Marking the passages of time. Seeing G_d within time even as we occupy space, and using that time to reflect on those moments, whether in the daily services, Shabbat, the holidays and festivals or just because of a particular moment.


3. Prayer life. I’ve come to see Shabbat as the highlight of my week. I do daily prayers and it brings me a special peace within.

4. This is a faith that is not just about belief, but responsible action. The three three pillars t’shuvah, t’fillah, tzedakah, i.e. correcting a wrong, prayer, giving.

5. We are not simply a belief or religion. We’re a culture with a remarkably long history. It’s an amazing history. We are responsible for each other, and for the outside world as well. We have 613 mitzvot, a body of literature ranging from Torah, Prophets, Writings, Mishnah, Gemara, Midrash, Kabbalah, literature right up through today, all the while wrestling with our faith within today’s context. There’s an emphasis on study I find refreshing and invigorating. We have rituals both as individuals and as a community carrying us through our life journey.

6. For me personally, I believe in one G_d,

7. I love to sing the psalms, nigguns, and despite inability to carry a tune, I love song as prayer.

8. As a historian, the history of our people is one that has held my fascination since youth. The survival of our people is remarkable. There was the destruction of the Temple and the birth of Rabbinic Judaism. Or the rebirth of Hebrew outside of the ritual role within synagogues. I’ve followed archaeology in the area since the first issue came out of Biblical Archaeology Society so many years ago up to the recent discovery of a seal from King Hezekiah and what may be a seal from Isaiah from the same period. For me, it seems our culture is firmly based within our historical experience.


9. I love Torah study. I plan to continue studying Hebrew to hopefully reach that point where I can understand better the context of Tanach.

10. The communal nature of our faith. Chavruta, whether in twos or more.


11. Tikkun Olam, our responsibility to the world around us. That’s a faith statement and a call to action I hold dear.

12. My community. Shir Tikvah, yes, for it’s a community whose actions speak for themselves. But beyond that, the wider Jewish community as well. I love how Judaism is there from birth to the grave, with rituals to hold, comfort, and sustain us each step of the way as we hold each other in our journey through this life.

13. Traditions. Some hundreds and even thousands of years old. From the Mikvah to our Oral Torah, to rituals more alike than different.


14. I’ve just begun preparing for study of Zohar, and already I know I’ll have to add this to my list.

From that moment decades back when I felt the call to Judaism, that love never left. So “hineni,” here I am. I understand the history and know the worse and the best of being Jewish. I would choose nothing else. I am fulfilling a dream that has been with me for many decades now. My deepest desire, is that when I’m laid to rest, people will say, she was a good Jew.

Jessica Wicks
Yiskah Rachel Bat Avraham v’ Sarah

I cannot explain why the attraction has remained so strong over the years. But I can vouch that it feels so right, and I am where I belong. I will still go back to visit First Universalist, my former congregation. One does not suddenly drop people who have been community for so very long. But spiritually I belong where I'm at. In the next blog post I'll speak to the experience of Beit Din and the Mikveh, and what it meant to me.

In Memory of My Skip, RIP Beautiful Spirit!

It was on August 10, 1997, twenty years ago today, when my beloved partner and soulmate, Skip Wood, departed this world. How can I describe him? I know from day one, we could not get enough of each other, and we would talk into the wee hours. He had been a teacher, mostly in the Catholic School systems but also for a time with Spring ISD in Houston. He was brilliant, with a classical type education that included German, Latin, Classical Greek, English, Theology, Philosophy, and Music. He was well grounded in Classical Music and had befriended Sir John Barbirolli when he conducted the Houston Symphony. I had not begun transition yet, and when we met, it was electric. We simply could not stop chattering, I said then, like two school girls, telling our stories, and it was in short time after that, he moved in with me.

We shared so much together, and it was Skip who showed me a love I could not have imagined. For the coming years, our lives were so completely entwined. Skip lived with Rheumatoid Arthritis, and even after he could no longer work, he would greet me as the car drove up, and we would plan the evening’s adventures. I had never before known such happiness as I did when we were together. Even when I began transition, he did not run away. I will always remember the moment I sat down and talked with him about it. He paused a bit, said there was much he did not understand, but we could talk about it as we went along. Then he said, he loved me, and if this was what I needed to be happy, then he would support me. “Love is like that,” he smiled.

So many memories. Nights at EJ’s or later dinner at Charlies. We watched classic movies or gay theatrical films, or listen to music. We often entertained friends and our apartment became a bit of an open house for neighbors in our complex. I'm smiling even as I write this, remembering the non-stop drama in our small complex, akin to the fictional Barbary Lane so delightfully offered in Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City series. Or we would slip off for a romantic get away to the Hill Country or to Galveston, sometimes on a moment's notice.

Then in July of '97, he began to get visibly weaker and we didn't know why. His voice lowered to a whisper. The doctor put him on a regime of iv fluids to rebuild his immune systems. One night I heard a crash. I ran into the bathroom where he had collapsed to the floor. I ran to the neighbors to have them call the ambulance. I sat there beside him, checking his breathing and vitals and holding him and…

We arrived at the hospital, and after a violent seizure and a spinal tap, he slowly slipped into a coma. I sat with him in the hospital. Days became weeks, and we learned he had contracted viral encephalitis, a direct result of his compromised immunities, and those being compromised by the meds he took for his Rheumatoid Arthritis. Day after day, a watch in i.c.u. and no change. The nurses were so good, and I remember one day a doctor stopped by, asked about him and me, then quietly showed me his Lobo card, code that he was gay. We learned he was not getting better and to expect the worse. Oh I held him so close and even if in a coma, I would tell him the events of the day, and of course, so many times, sharing the love I felt for him. I recall then one night, Jimmy Carper at KPFT had me on the program and he and I did a tribute to Skip. The nurses at the hospital had turned on the radio for him to hear, even if in a coma. I got back to my apartment in the wee hours, only to get a call from the hospital. He’d taken a turn for the worse. I rushed back to the hospital, where I held him, told him how much I loved him, and told him if it was time to go, it was alright and I’d be okay. Okay I lied, but it needed to be done. Slowly he slipped away. August 10th 1997. It was 20 years ago now. The nurse came in, gave me ten more minutes with him, asking if anyone was there for me, then I left and the family and the priest walked in. I headed for the coffee shop where our favorite waiter asked about Skip and when I told him Skip was gone, he held me and we both cried. Then he played "I Will Survive" on the Jukebox.

With time and lots of love from my friends, it did get better. Each year at this time, I hold up his memory. I got a lovely letter after he passed from Lady Evelyn Barbirolli. He would have been so pleased she had done that. Months and years passed and life does go on, and I learned to appreciate all he had been in new and different ways and with new perspectives. After all, he gave me the greatest gift anyone could. He gave us our time together. More importantly, he taught me how to truly love. What a profoundly beautiful gift! I choose no longer to try and get over it, but rather honor it for the gift we had. Thank you Skip. Yes, I found love again. Yes, I love you. Love is like that after all, immortal even if we are not…

Dedicated to my True Renaissance Man...

SAY THEIR NAMES, 2017

It's 2017 and the pace of trans lives lost to violence has not slowed it's pace. Say their names. Hold those names in your heart. Join in working towards the day when such lists will no longer be required. This slaughter of trans persons, mostly women and overwhelmingly trans women of color must come to and end and soon!!!

1. Mesha Caldwell, 41 year old trans woman of color, found shot to death on a road near Canton, Mississippi on January 4, 2017.

2. Jamie Lee Wounded Arrow, 28 year old trans woman Native American member of Oglala Sioux tribe,found dead on January 6th in her apartment in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Police believe her death is a homicide.

3. JoJo Stryker, 23 year old trans woman of color found shot to death in a garage in Toledo, Ohio on February 8rd. Gunshot wound to the chest.

4. Jaquarrius Holland, 18 year old Trans woman of color, killed in Monroe, Louisiana shot after a verbal altercation on February 19th.. Originally she was misgendered in the press and that was not corrected until later.



5. KeKe Collier aka Tiara Richmond, 24 year old trans woman of color shot in a vehicle then dumped out on street in Chicago where police found her on February 23rd. She died hours later at the hospital.



6. Chyna Gibson, 31 year old trans woman of color shot several times in a shopping mall parking lot and found dead in New Orleans, La.



7. Ciara McElveen, 26 year old trans woman of color, stabbed and left on the road in New Orleans, La on February 27. She died later in the hospital.

Thoughts on Saturday's Women's March in St. Paul

A few days have passed since Saturday’s march, giving me time to absorb what all happened that day. Our purpose was pretty clear I think. Following the inauguration of a president who objectifies and physically assaults women, who wants to dismantle health care as we know it, destroy the environment, and a laundry list we all are familiar with.

So yes, the march was political. The political has become personal in our time. So many have reason to be concerned. Immigrants, Muslims, Jews, Lesbian Bisexual and Gays, Transgender people like me, People of color, Women, Disabled Americans, all who have in the past been marginalized. But for the first time, many who felt comfortable in their cisgender, heterosexual, white identities stand to lose as well.

I was grateful to be able to attend. In a wheelchair, I needed others to assist. We gathered to fill up four buses at church. Turns out many volunteered to push me. We sang and prepared for the day to come.

Whenever 100,000 human beings come together in the spirit of justice and with hearts centered in love, it transcends beyond simply political. It was a spiritual experience. Here we were, packed together like sardines, and one would expect crankiness, especially after standing in place for an hour. But rather there was laughter, sharing, planning for the future, and a firm commitment to action understanding this was but the beginning. The crowd began to move, and I had no clue where I was and others had said the same, but we moved, this mass of humanity and yet space was made for my wheelchair (and another we encountered along the way. Old and young, disabled and able bodied, a truly eclectic crowd moving towards our goal. Then we rounded a turn and ahead was the capitol and the view was breathtaking. Later some news media wanted to portray the size of the crowd by comparing it to the RNC protests. But see, I attended those protests and they were no where near the size of this one.

Personal disclosure here, I am by nature an empath. I feel the emotions of those around me. I have to say that on this day, I felt so much energy, so much love that it was overwhelming, in the best sense of course

We live in a world of identity politics, and that is important. As a trans woman, I have to speak clearly about the issues facing my community. I saw some speaking through their signage about the separations they feel and the discrimination they encounter in this country. Yes black lives do matter. Privilege by some is real. What I was seeing on that Saturday was that we all have intersections and by fighting for ALL of us, by loving ALL of us, together we make an impressive response to a president who seems unable to see beyond his own ego and shows little respect for anyone but other greedy billionaires. The energy that day by these huge crowds of women and men was palpable. Here lies the strength to undo the harm since this past election. It depends on all of us to continue to organize, to continue to look out for each other and to grow even larger this community of women and men committed to justice, and we can create the world we dream of.

Make no mistake, the forces of evil currently occupying the halls of power will not yield easily. But if we continue what we began Saturday, then we will prevail. Each of us can ask, what gifts do we have to serve the cause? How do we grow this community? For some it will be civil disobedience. For others protests. We all can call and visit our elected officials and hold them accountable. Officials who don’t seem to be able to serve their constituency needs to be replaced. Some will blog, write op-eds, others may be skilled public speakers. We must organize, organize, and organize. As community, we look out for each other, providing sanctuary, provide safe space for self-care, whatever is needed. But to quote something my pastor said, all of us can love the hell out of each other. This is our time in history. How we respond will be the measure of our futures to come. We must resist and we must prevail. All I can say is bring it on!

Bah humbug

Okay, I need to explain some things first. I hope everyone has a happy and joyous season, whether it be Thanksgiving, Christmas, Channukah, Kwanzaa, Yule, Solstice whatever your observance may or may not be. What I will share is not about what you are doing, but only my own personal perspective on the season. I know I'm not alone in what I will be sharing, and that makes it worthwhile I think.

Here's the thing. For some of us, this is a particularly difficult time of the year. We live in a world where love does not always prevail, and bad things happen. Look around in the inner cities for instance. They are the throw aways, cast outs from families, communities etc. In my case, my wife and I are both ostracized from family. The season is us two, and we are growing old. We are fortunate, for we found each other. What makes this season difficult for so many is the constant reminder of being "other." I look on the pages of facebook, and people are planning to get together, to celebrate the season, to buy gifts for loved ones, to see their children and their grandchildren and I so do celebrate their joy. But it's also a constant reminder of my own daughter and my own grandson that I will not see, or my spouse's son from whom she is separated as well. We turn on tv, and there is just one schmaltzy tear jerker happy ending movie after the other, as if there were an intentional effort to remind us constantly... well you get my point.

Now I'm a big girl. With 69 years under my belt and headed for the big 70, I've learned to cope. It's not like I had a choice anyway. I've memories of a time when I was part of large family gatherings when my presence was welcomed and I so loved gathering with loved ones, but I was to learn that in my family, there was not sufficient room for a member who was trans and gay. What do we tell the children? I was selfish they said. ::shaking head:: I even heard that one family member put forward the idea that I was looking for the 'easy' way. Yeah right.

So the holidays are now going full force. There is no place to run or hide to get away from it. I wish the usual for my friends and even for people I've never met a wonderful holiday. I hold in my heart all those others who are for one reason or another separated from family or loved ones. This is not my best time of the year. So forgive my private scrooge moment when I offer that I simply will be glad when it is all over.

A Tale of Coming Outs: Coming Out Day Version 2016

Coming out often is not one event, but many events over many years. In my case, the normal labels became confused along the way. You see in this photo a child who is confused and a bit melancholy, though I learned early on to cover that up. During the previous year, I experimented with my first coming out. So I'd been visiting a neighbor girl, and we were having a tea party. I dressed up in her Sunday finest and I was the Mommy and she the Daddy. The year was 1950. We had been playing for awhile, and it all felt so fun and so right. Then we hear footsteps coming up the stair and my Mom walks in. She looks startled, and snaps, "Put on your own clothes and come home now! I did so and came home and she said nothing. Then that night, she came to tuck me in. She smiles as she tucks me in, "You're a good little boy."

"Mommy? I'm a girl..."

"No you aren't and I don't want to hear that nonsense ever again!" I'm 69 years old now, yet I still recall that look in her eyes. Anger yes, but there was something else I could not identify at that young age. I now know it was fear. I did not understand, but I did know there must be something terribly wrong about me. From then on my parents set out fully intent on butching me up. Cowboy costumes, guns etc for Christmas etc. I could only be my true self in private when nobody was looking. Don't misunderstand though. I tried really hard to be what they wanted to be. But always there was this little voice inside telling me a. something is wrong and b. it was probably me.

We moved to Tyler, Texas from Illinois and it was a whole new world. By the time I got to be in the third grade, I was getting beat up almost daily, and they were calling me queer and I did not know why and I felt so terribly alone. I fought back as best I could because if I didn't my Dad made it perfectly clear he'd beat me worse. But I did find some respite. Out behind the garage, I dug a pit, about 3 1/2 feet deep. Above it I took sticks and vines and used some of the red clay in which I'd been digging and created a small private hut that was My Space. I even built cubby holes into it, and there I could play the roles I could do no where else. I also would sit in that space with a notebook and I began early on to journal. I couldn't keep the journals. That was too scary. But I could write out my feelings at that young age, and I truly think it kept me alive. As puberty approached, I figured out not only was there this inner feminine, but that I was attracted to guys. I tried to avoid it, but it filled my hormone filled dreams and made life even more scary.

So I grew up. My dad passed away in 67. Soon after I dropped out of college for a year and took off traveling, like so many in that time, I landed in San Francisco. While I spent some time in the Haight, I was drawn to the Tenderloin where I found other people like me. But I could not stay, and I returned to Tyler, and my closeted life continued. Finally I decided to make my last ditch effort at being straight.

Like some other people I've met over the years, I married a lesbian. She was a nurse and over time a drummer in a lesbian band, but then we were making our way trying to fit into something that would be called normal. We gave it our best shot, and even had a daughter, but it could not last and we split up only 3 1/2 years later. I began to find my way to the gay bars more and more. No one person, just satisfying my need to be myself and to express that feminine side more freely. I wasn't really a drag queen though,although I had a number of friends who were, but where they often (not always) were just playing a role, my feelings were not a caricature but reality. I did meet other transgender queens along the way and the feeling grew that it might be possible. For a time though, most of this was in the fog of alcohol and drugs. It was not until I entered a program to become sober that the feelings and the realization that I would have to be true to self began the journey towards reality. Still while I could be out to many of my friends, I could not be to my family. Mom had once told me that if she ever found out that either I or my former wife were gay, she would go to court to get our child and we would not be welcome again. I loved my Mom, even with her feelings about either of us being gay. So with my family, I had to be on the down low. But Mom died in '88. I gave some time to mourn, and then gradually I began to come out to more and more of my family. I also met a man who I fell in love with.

We met at a Dignity Chapter and he was the greeter. Soon someone replace him so we could talk. And talk. We were like two schoolgirls, back and forth and we began spending all of our time together, then there was "that kiss", a kiss that sealed the deal and we were a couple. It was a time when I learned how to really love. This was the love of a lifetime and soon we were setting up house. But there was one thing I had to do. It scared the bejeezus out of me. I had to tell this man, the love of my life, that his partner would be beginning a journey to transition, to truly be how I feel. Here was a man who'd never dated a woman in his life. Yet I was asking him if he could stay with me as I became a woman. To my huge relieve, he said yes. So by bits and pieces, beginning with a rather familiar androgyny and then transition in earnest, my next journey began.

Coming out originally as gay troubled some, including my daughter. But when I began transition, I lost almost all of my extended family, including the daughter and my brother who slipped farther away. It was so much to deal with and the hurt was incredible. But even with the pain, at last I was being truly that person who always dwelled inside and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world. I managed to keep my job when I transitioned. Something else came up though. For the first time I noticed I was attracted to women. My husband noticed it too. With hormones something had shifted. I preferred women in terms of attraction to men. But, I loved my husband. Skip and I talked about it, and I sure wasn't going anywhere. Love is love after all. Then in '97, he became ill and a few weeks later he passed away. He had contracted viral encephalitis. Suddenly I was alone again. But with time I healed. With transition completed, I was attracted to women. I began dating, had some false starts along the way. I got lots of support from my MCC congregation in Houston.

My community held me up during this dark period. See I had come to a place when closets were not desirable besides impossible. I became involved with the community center, hosting a lesbian film night monthly. I volunteered with Lesbians in Business, worked my buns off for Annise Parker who ran for and became a member of city council. She later would become mayor of Houston. I was involved all along with TATS (Texas Area Transexual Support) and GCTC (Gulf Coast Transgender Community.) Then I met Robin. We fell in love, my second love in this lifetime. She and I embarked on a life adventure that led to a very public wedding in San Antonio Texas using a narrow court decision in that state. It was all in the papers, so for a time our lives were quite public and all remnants of a closet were gone forever.

I turn and look out at the world today, and I see young people coming out and transitioning and a level of openness in society I never could have dreamed of in my wildest fantasy. Still I know it is hard for some. Open-mindedness is not universal, and some states bend over backwards to discourage those who are anything other than the norm they visualize. It can take great courage to come out. I can only say, when you do make that decision, no matter who you are or how old you may be, there is a community of people ready to welcome you with open arms. In my life, I heard the call of Harvey Milk to come out. I did so not once but many times as the circle of self truth expanded. I can only say that in taking those steps, I found a freedom and happiness I could not have ever imagined. Yes I did so in an earlier time, and I lost a lot. But I gained so much more. So come out, come out, wherever you are!

Transgender Lives Lost to Homicide 2016

Here we are, well into 2016 and once again on pace to be a new record year for the violence towards transgender lives. Here they are. Hold them in your heart. Say their names. Pray that this senseless killing comes to an end. Notice their race. Most are trans women of color. I'm so weary of the drip drip drip of trans lives, beautiful lives, cut short for what? Are our lives so threatening? I'll never understand this kind of hate though I've witnessed it in my own life.

Trans Deaths from Violence: 2016

Jasmine Sierra, Bakersfield, Ca, Latina trans woman. Dead in apt physical trauma, January 22 Misgendered by media so we did not find out until March

Monica Loera, Austin, Texas 43 year old Latina transwoman. Shooting January 22.

Kayden Clark , Mesa, Az 24 year old White Transman shot by police. He was having an autistic meltdown. Many upset that he was shot and killed when they called to prevent him from committing suicide.

Veronica Banks Cano, Black trans woman, San Antonio, Tx Found dead fully clothed February 19

Maya Young, Philadelphia, Pa, 25 year old black trans woman stabbed multiple times, February 20th (announced on the 23rd)

Kayderie/Candicee Johnson, Burlington,IA, a 16 year old black genderfluid child shot several times and left in an alley.

Demarkis Stansbury, Baton Rouge, 30 year old transman shot to death February 27th (misgendered in press)

Courtney Yochum 32 year old black transwomanMarch 24thLos Angeles, Domestic dispute

Shante’ Isaac (Thompson), Houston, Tx 34 year old blackTranswoman shot in head along with another person, male in Midtown April 10th

Keyona Blakeney, Montgomery County Md 22 year old black trans woman. Blunt force trauma April 11. Found dead in motel room.

Reece Walker Wichita Ks 32 year old local advocate, black trans woman stabbing May 1st

Mercedes Successful, Haines City, Fla 32 year old Black trans woman. Shooting Death

Amos Beede May22nd 38 year old Transman in Burlington, Vt. Blunt force trauma from 4 homeless attackers. Died days later.

Goddess Diamond, June 5th, New Orleans, La, Blunt Force Trauma, then burned in car.

Dee Whigham 25 year old trans woman, found dead from stabbing in motel room in St. Martin, Mississippi, nursing student, originally misgendered.

Sky Mockabee 26 year old black transwoman found murdered in Cleveland, result of online date gone horribly wrong.

Deeniqua Dodds 22 year old black transwoman shot in Washington DC July 4, 2016, died on July 14th.

Erykah Tijerina 36 year old Latina transwoman, homicide in El Paso, August 10, 2016 found in her apartment.

Rae’Lynn Thomas 28 year old black transwoman, killed by her mom’s ex who called her Satan in Columbus, Ohio

Quotes by Founding Fathers on Church and State Plus a Surprise at the End

Over and over I hear people expound on how this is a Christian nation. While some, not all, of the founding fathers were Christian, their own words seem somehow pertinent. Here's a list of quotes. Again, note the surprise at the end.


". . . Some books against Deism fell into my hands. . . It happened
that they wrought an effect on me quite contrary to what was intended
by them; for the arguments of the Deists, which were quoted to be
refuted, appeared to me much stronger than the refutations; in short, I
soon became a thorough Deist."

Franklin

"When a religion is good, I conceive it will support itself; and when
it does not support itself, and God does not take care to support it so
that its professors are obliged to call for help of the civil power,
'tis a sign, I apprehend, of its being a bad one." -- Benjamin
Franklin, 2000_Years_of_Disbelief by James A. Haught

"Religion I found to be without any tendency to inspire, promote, or
confirm morality, serves principally to divide us and make us
unfriendly to one another."--Benjamin Franklin

"The way to see by faith is to shut the eye of reason."--Benjamin
Franklin, Poor_Richard, 1758

"Lighthouses are more helpful than churches."--Benjamin Franklin

Say nothing of my religion. It is known to my god and myself alone.
-- Thomas Jefferson

Because religious belief, or non-belief, is such an important part of
every person's life, freedom of religion affects every individual.
State churches that use government power to support themselves and
force their views on persons of other faiths undermine all our civil
rights. Moreover, state support of the church tends to make the clergy
unresponsive to the people and leads to corruption within religion.
Erecting the "wall of separation between church and state," therefore,
is absolutely essential in a free society.

We have solved ... the great and interesting question whether freedom
of religion is compatible with order in government and obedience to the
laws. And we have experienced the quiet as well as the comfort which
results from leaving every one to profess freely and openly those
principles of religion which are the inductions of his own reason and
the serious convictions of his own inquiries.
-- Thomas Jefferson, to the Virginia Baptists (1808)

Millions of innocent men, women, and children, since the introduction
of Christianity, have been burnt, tortured, fined, and imprisoned; yet
we have not advanced one inch toward uniformity. What has been the
effect of coercion? To make one-half the world fools and the other half
hypocrites. To support roguery and error all over the earth.
-- Thomas Jefferson

"... I am not afraid of priests. They have tried upon me all their
various batteries of pious whining, hypocritical canting, lying and
slandering. I have contemplated their order from the Magi of the East
to the Saints of the West and I have found no difference of character,
but of more or less caution, in proportion to their information or
ignorance on whom their interested duperies were to be played off.
Their sway in New England is indeed formidable. No mind beyond
mediocrity dares there to develop itself."

Jefferson

"History, I believe, furnishes no example of a priest-ridden people
maintaining a free civil government. This marks the lowest grade of
ignorance of which their civil as well as religious leaders will always
avail themselves for their own purposes."

-Thomas Jefferson

What influence, in fact, have ecclesiastical establishments had on
society? In some instances they have been seen to erect a spiritual
tyranny on the ruins of the civil authority; on many instances they
have been seen upholding the thrones of political tyranny; in no
instance have they been the guardians of the liberties of the people.
Rulers who wish to subvert the public liberty may have found an
established clergy convenient auxiliaries. A just government,
instituted to secure and perpetuate it, needs them not."

Madison

. . . Thirteen governments [of the original states] thus founded on
the natural authority of the people alone, without a pretence of
miracle or mystery, and which are destined to spread over the northern
part of that whole quarter of the globe, are a great point gained in
favor of the rights of mankind."

Adams

The 1796 treaty with Tripoli, negotiations begun under Washington and
signed by Adams states:

"[As] the government of the United States of America is not in any
sense founded on the Christian Religion"

"Religious controversies are always productive of more acrimony and
irreconcilable hatreds than those which spring from any other cause.
Of all the animosities which have existed among mankind, those which
are caused by the difference of sentiments in religion appear to be the
most inveterate and distressing, and ought most to be depreciated. I
was in hopes that the enlightened and liberal policy, which has marked
the present age, would at least have reconciled Christians of every
denomination so far that we should never again see the religious
disputes carried to such a pitch as to endanger the peace of society."
George Washington - letter to Edward
Newenham, 1792

John Leland (1754-1841) was a Baptist preacher whose life involved
writing about and preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ and about the
proper relationship between religion and government. In the latter
passion, Leland agreed with the position of Thomas Jefferson and James
Madison, both of whom he knew personally. Leland spent approximately 14
years in Virginia from 1776 to 1790-91. He was a major leader of the
Baptists in Virginia. He helped Madison by rounding up support for the
defeat of the assessment bill in Virginia in 1784-86, and by supporting
the ratification of the new constitution (only after being assured
that Madison did favor the addition of a bill of rights), He worked to
get Madison elected (over Patrick Henry's hand-picked James Monroe) to
the House of Representatives of the First Federal Congress. He returned
to his home state of Massachusetts in the winter of 1790-91, where he
remained an active minister and champion of separation of church and
state and disestablishment till his death in 1841. He wrote articles
against establishment while in Massachusetts and testified before the
Massachusetts legislature on at least one occasion.

Research by Jim Allison
Excerpt from July 4th Oration by John Leland, July 5, 1802.

[emphasis added]

. . . Disdain mean suspicion, but cherish manly jealousy; be always
jealous of your liberty, your rights. Nip the first bud of intrusion on
your constitution. Be not devoted to men; let measures be your object,
and estimate men according to the measures they pursue. Never promote
men who seek after a state-established religion; it is spiritual
tyranny--the worst of despotism. It is turnpiking the way to heaven by
human law, in order to establish ministerial gates to collect toll. It
converts religion into a principle of state policy, and the gospel into
merchandise. Heaven forbids the bans of marriage between church and
state; their embraces therefore, must be unlawful. Guard against those
men who make a great noise about religion, in choosing representatives.
It is electioneering. If they knew the nature and worth of religion,
they would not debauch it to such shameful purposes. If pure religion
is the criterion to denominate candidates, those who make a noise about
it must be rejected; for their wrangle about it, proves that they are
void of it. Let honesty, talents and quick despatch, characterise the
men of your choice. Such men will have a sympathy with their
constituents, and will be willing to come to the light, that their
deeds may be examined. . . .
Source of Information:

Excerpt from "July 4th Oration by John Leland, July 5, 1802". The
Writings of John Leland, Edited by L.F. Greene, Arno Press & The New
York Times New York (1969) pp.260-270) Originally published as: The
Writings Of The Late Elder John Leland Including Some Events In His
Life, Written By Himself, With Additional Sketches &c. By Miss L.F.
Greene, Lanesboro, Mass. Printed By G.W. Wood, 29 Gold Street, New York
1845. Nedstat Counter

AND...

"The national government will maintain and defend the
foundations on which the power of our nation rests. It will offer
strong protection to Christianity as the very basis of our collective
morality. Today Christians stand at the head of our country. We want to
fill our culture again with the Christian spirit. We want to burn out
all the recent immoral developments in literature, in the theatre, and
in the press — in short, we want to burn out the poison of immorality
which has entered into our whole life and culture as a result of
LIBERAL excess during the past years" — Adolph Hitler (Taken from The
Speeches of Adolph Hitler, 1922-1939, Vol. 1, Michael Hakeem, Ph.D.
(London, Oxford University Press, 1942), pp. 871-872.)

Agism Again...WTF?

I suppose times of intense change, revolutionary change even, whether for good or evil, lends itself to extremes. Thus as part of our discourse we hear that Muslims are terrorists, Mexicans carry drugs as if by sheer virtue of their nationality, race, or spiritual journey, every one like them is lumped into the same tiny box. Not only race, nationality, or spiritual belief now, but also I am seeing the ghost of Agism Past rear its ugly head once again. See, hard as it may be to imagine, I remember my own youth and young adulthood. We were in the midst of great change then too. We were moving out of the time of great conformity and extreme oppression of other races, beliefs etc also known as the fifties into the sixties when change was in the air. Our childhoods were filled with the stories of Communists under every leaf and the McCarthy hearings and we were determined to change the status quo. I recall expressions like "Don't trust anyone over 30." On the other side, so many older people looked askance at "the youth of today." Shaking their heads and wringing their hands. "Why when I was their age, I never..." But of course they did, but chose not to recall their own explorations of independence.

Our reality and if allowed our strength is in our diversity, not in our sameness. I've learned having been young, middle aged, and now old, that sometimes great wisdom and sometimes great foolishness can come from the lips of old people. Some learned many lessons and embraced wisdom, while others remained oblivious all the way into old age. I could say exactly the same thing for the young, and of the middle aged as well. Sometimes in talking with young people I will receive a pearl of wisdom so precious, not from experience, but from eyes that can look outside the box. Anytime we categorize and place people into a box of sameness rather than accept them in the rainbow of diversity that is the human condition, we not only limit them, but ourselves.

What inspired all of this? Two articles. One from Ozy yesterday suggesting old people should not be allowed to vote. That suggestion is so antithetical to any concept of a democratic society, I'll not even waste my time ranting about it. The other came today. Vox suggests that "old people become more conservative with age because science says so." Look someone does a study and publishes it, with or without peer review and suddenly it's an absolute. Look, some old people grow more conservative. More often I think conservative experimentation happens in middle age when conformity is demanded, and many revert to liberalism as they grow older. BUT THERE ARE NO ABSOLUTES. How old was the dude who killed the worshippers at that church in South Carolina?

So maybe we can start to chill with the agism, whether one is young or old, perceived or not. It's getting old really quick.

Jessica Wicks aka Long in Tooth (just fooling, mine are false)aka Cantankerous Old Crone aka (fill in the blank)

My Thoughts on Trumpism

The unease and admitted fear is palpable in conversations with others, in real life and in social media. That is understandable. Many have not learned the lessons of the past, but some have. There are two primary candidates for the Republican nomination, both of whom have offered racist solutions to the world in which we live. Both want to kick out ineligible aliens including children who’ve known no other life but that in America. Both paint Islam in terms of “Islamic terrorism” and where one has called for banning all Muslims to our country, the other is not much better.

Donald Trump takes it a step further. He calls for attacks on all sorts of people, and ignores every tenant of constitutional protection. Consider this quote from Adolph Hitler in his work Mein Kampf:

1. Keep the dogma simple. Make only 1 or 2 points.
2. Be forthright and powerfully direct. Speak only in the telling or ordering mode.

3. As much as possible, reduce concepts down into stereotypes which are black and white.

4. Speak to people’s emotions and stir them constantly.

5. Use lots of repetition; repeat your points over and over again.

6. Forget literary beauty, scientific reasoning, balance, or novelty.

7. Focus solely on convincing people and creating zealots.

8. Find slogans which can be used to drive the movement forward.


Now watch any speech by Donald Trump. It was said by an ex wife that he kept a copy of Mein Kampf by the bed. Okay, that’s okay. I’ve got a copy on my Kindle because it is important to know history and the lessons for us today. But copying his blueprint is quite another thing.

Let me address the remarks by people saying they are afraid. That’s okay, and understandable. However we cannot let that fear dominate us or stand in the way of standing strong in the face of this assault on our democratic sensibilities by pure racism and hate. As FDR said, “The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself.” Years ago, I did a multiyear study of the Holocaust. What I learned was that what happened in Germany could happen anywhere. Certain factors were needed.

So what about us? Could it happen here? Consider this. After WWI, thanks to a Great Depression and crippling reparations imposed by the allies combined to leave ordinary families uneasy and quick to seek a strong leader who would bring them something better. Hitler was that person. Look at our current society. We are moving out of the Great Recession, but wages are less, and fewer benefits are offered. Money has been focused among the very rich at the expense of all the rest of us. Citizens United created a system where our politicians fear their corporate donors more than the populace who elects them, and their votes no longer represent the people. Now Donald Trump would not improve that one iota, but he is able to play on the fears and insecurity of these people.

Hitler once was said to have stated that had there not been a Jewish people, he would have needed to invent them. Lest we forget, it was not only Jews he targeted. Slavs, gays, and many others were utilized to stoke the fears and hates of his followers. Hmm Mexicans being called rapists and killers and his so called war on Islam… sound familiar?

Now I am not saying he is Hitler. I am saying that he stokes the same fears of the other, in his effort to be the strong man savior for all who are afraid. He’s a bully, and quite content to extend violence to get his way. We may feel fear, but the only way for anyone to deal with a bully, especially one who would emulate Hitler, is directly. We also need to remember, just as with the early followers of Hitler, that not all were bad people. They just wanted a decent shot at life when they voted him Chancellor of Germany. Many paid the ultimate price for that early endorsement, made possible by their willingness to overlook the bigotry and hate being offered up by their leader. They allowed themselves to be swayed to believe that really was the root of their problems. Many asked later, what we could have been done to prevent what happened. Together, hands outstretched, they ignored the obvious and for that paid a massive price.

As a child I was bullied. I learned the hard way that bullies had to be confronted, even when there was more of them. We confront this bully with truth, with love, and if it goes too far, then perhaps by violence. I pray not. I’ve watched black people be assaulted and he defends it. I’ve seen other black and Muslim people not allowed to come to his rallies simply because they were black or Muslim. He constantly encourages violence and laments the “good old days.” Does he mean the good old days back in the 20’s when his father apparently was arrested in conjunction with a brawl involving a KKK dispute? The fifties when everything was just wonderful unless you were non-white or poor? Yes he is selling folks a bill of goods. But if they buy in…. well, that must not happen. Last I heard, his followers were forming a group to “defend” the candidate against protesters. Perhaps they can call them Brown Shirts? Stand strong my friends, and just respond “Oh hell no!!!”

A Tribute to My Friend: Andrew Adair Rebman

Today, one of my best friends ever is being memorialized following his all too soon passing. I cannot be there in body sadly, but my spirit is with all those who loved this incredible person I called friend.

I first met Andrew in the early nineties. This was before I had fully transitioned, and I had moved to Westheimer Square Apts in the Montrose neighborhood of Houston with my beloved Skip. One day Skip walks into the apartment and says, "I just met this cute guy outside and he seems really nice.

I laughed, and said, "Well invite him to dinner!" He did and a life long friendship ensued. Understand, we were considerably older. We were in our mid/late forties and he was 18. We had an amazing visit, and sat and visited for hours. From then on we would hang out, and watch the drama play out (often we were part of that drama) in this amazing community of people. He always threatened to write a novel about this place. I ultimately did. It really was like Houston's version of Barbary Lane. He loved to tease Skip, watching the two of them go at each other laughing as they did and we used to do long walks together. It was the prequel to his photography style which would come later. Skip could not always make those because of his rheumatoid arthritis, but when we got back, we'd sit around and just talk about... well... everything within our hearts.

Some memories from Westheimer Square:

My beloved Skip became ill in '97 and passed away soon after. It truly was my dark night of the soul, and as i tried to sort it all out, one constant was my friend Andrew. We would talk, and sometimes he'd just sit and listen while I poured out my grief. I had lost so much, family, my beloved as my transition had exacted a heavy toll. But there consistently was Andrew, ever the true friend. He allowed me to share my inner thoughts and he shared his own.

I met Robin in '99 and we moved to Minneapolis soon after. That did not mean the end of a friendship however. Every few weeks he'd call, and we would talk on the phone literally until one of us had no juice left in the phone battery. You know, it's been interesting since we learned of Andrew's passing, how many people I've connected with who I already knew through our long conversations.

I remember when he came to visit in Minneapolis some years back. He was an accomplished photographer by then, and I did it as a hobby. We walked all over Minneapolis,taking photos, comparing notes and telling our stories in the coffee shops, and even speaking out loud how important our friendship was. How I treasured our time together that year.

After the visit, we continued our friendship via social media and phone. He stayed so busy, so we understood that it was best for him to call me. Which he did faithfully for all these years. There is no one else on this earth with whom I could talk so deeply and completely. Perhaps such friendships are rare. They certainly are for me. About two weeks before Andrew passed, I got a post via FB and he was curious as to my response. I sent it, and expected to hear back, but did not. It also was past due for one of our phone conversations. Then Gina (his stepmom) got ahold of me and told me my friend was gone.

Andrew, I'm going to miss you so very much! I'm getting older now, and my own time will be coming soon enough. What I know is that the days to come will be a little less bright, and I will glance from time to time at my phone and know you won't be calling anymore. I will grieve, and then life will regain some sort of normalcy, but that normalcy will be some shade of beige or grey, for the aurora formed by your presence among us has faded away as you passed through death's door. All that remains are the memories and the tears.

Finally, Andrew, I've no idea if there is anything beyond that door. But on the chance there is, I have a couple of requests. Those who knew them will understand. Lionel? If you see him, kick his butt for me. After the way he treated Merlyn, he's got it coming. Caroline, give her a big hug. For the readers of this blog, she's the cute girl in the photo above with the kids closet to the viewer. Like you Andrew, she left us way too soon. She's likely dancing ballet among the stars in my mythos of a world beyond. Then there's Skip. You'd know what to say to Skip. It's comforting to know that the two of you would be exchanging barbs, laughing all the while as you wait for me to get there. Rest in power my friend. Rest in power...