The First Mother

It is tough having your Mother pass-away on the same day as Barbara Bush. 

All media sources seem to have prepopulated new stories about how the life of this wife and mother impacted the country. A loving mother raising children who changed the world. A supportive wife, who stood by her husband for seventy-three years.  All these tributes to the former first lady portray her as a throwback to an earlier and almost genteel era of America. This silver-haired matriarch of a political dynasty. Barbara Bush Who used her rule to enrich the family and country she served. 

Yet, as the warm glow softens the loss felt by the passing of such an impactful mothering presence; you begin to question this loyalty to memory. Was she not the lady that ripped her red AIDS ribbon from her blouse before joining her husband on the podium at the Republican National Convention?  Agreeing, that yes “Barbara Bush was a generous and smart and amazing racist who, along with her husband, raised a war criminal.”*

As the people around me are speaking of the life and legacy of a woman who brought safety, warmth, and enrichment into their lives.  I struggle to not think of the warmongering. I search my mind for any time that is not a war on terror. When my Christian name was not replaced with "that Dirty Democrat." When handing over the book, "Loving Someone Gay" it is tossed into the trash. How do you remember a dedicated racist? A person who used racism as an artist uses paint upon a canvas. The art of racism instilled so deeply in her children, it would take years of new coursework to learn tolerance and compassion?  

I can almost accept that she was a throwback to an earlier and almost genteel era of America. But, it is also the time when the "N" word was used with joyous passion.  I can accept the warm and nostalgic retelling of a life in which the person weaving the narrative had a much different experience to mine. They must have never experienced the warmongering. The removal of the red ribbon. Or, simply, they have and are better at understanding that when an individual dies, you only speak of the good things. 

So, rest in peace. Your legacy is secure. 

* Randa Jarrar 

Nerdiness: Check

How was your American Labor Day? Mine was spent ignoring a school assignment of reading a book and watching an assigned documentary on the American Revolution. Well, that and listening to my Mother make long, drawn-out diatribes about Mittens Romney being elected as America’s next ruler, and ushering in a new era or Mormon dominionism.


Last night I walked into my Western Civilization class to a fifty question test. On the American Revolution, not Mormon dominionism. Trust. I’ve had all the education I need on the spirit of Joseph “F-ing” Smith ushering into the White House.

The fifty questions in regard to the U.S. forefathers took a “why” instead of a “how” context. Without giving this assignment a single thought, I had to pull every fact from deep in my tiny brain. Seeing as my tiny brain had more important things to mull over; such as, was every Dalek really in the season opener to Doctor Who? And, was that really the new companion playing the part of Carmen? As these questions held the hexarchy of my thoughts, the name of George Washington’s big brother’s trading company was nowhere near the top.

I guess I did know the name of the trading company that set off the French/Indian war. I only missed one question. Yay! Let’s hear it for utter nerdiness. I, of course, ignored the comment from my fellow student when he inquired if I had “first-hand knowledge” of the founding of our country, as he is a hockey player that shies away from underpants.

So, if you ever need information on why the British and French used the Native Americans for their top hat lust, I’m apparently your guy. If you need to know why Mittens Romney will prepare us to meet Mormon Jesus, or why the Bronze Daleks are so high up on the Dalek hierarchy. Just shout. This, of course, cements into place my utter nerdiness, leaving all hope of me as cool dead outside of a crashed space cruiser.

The Day After

I will not go into a post-Olympic downer. Nope, not me. Not like every time since my first Olympics I became obsessed with back in 1984.

For weeks after the 1984 games ended I moped around the house with nothing to watch on TV, and nothing to dream about.  I spent the entire remaining summer, after the closing ceremonies, begging my Mom to let me try out for my Junior High’s Track and Field team the next school year. I knew that since we lived so far out in the country there wouldn’t be a way for me to get home when the after school practices were done. And no way I could make it to the meets. 

Every four years I become obsessed with the games and attempt to watch every televised event. I watch the Badminton, Lesbian Kayaking, and the even the hours of team Volleyball. I memorize as many athlete’s names as I can. I try to get their entire back-story, and find them on Twitter.  I quiz myself on the number of points each athlete needs to reach the qualifying rounds. I feel what they feel when they don’t win. I cheer when they do win.

For seventeen days I’m the biggest sports fan there is, then it is over.  To quote Michael Phelps, quoting Dr. Seuss, “Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.

Turkey Week

It is American Thanksgiving week.

I am actually a little bummed because school is on “Fall Break,” meaning that I don’t have classes this week. Am I the only nerd that likes to go to class? I guess so. Last Thursday the professor, the one who said you can get AIDS from a soda can, announced that he doesn’t really want to grade anything, so he’s going to just divide up everyone who showed up to his lectures and give them “A’s.” I guess that the sixteen page paper on Martin Luther won’t really count for anything? Just sitting in the seat will score me an “A.” Well, I still spend any free time this weekend when I was not at IKEA clicking away at the homo coffee house to complete the pages before the deadline.
My highlight of the break will be spending free time with friends. On Wednesday Dalton, my Ex turned Best Friend Forever, flies in from New York. I’m very excited to spend Thanksgiving week with him. Ever since Dalton moved back to New York I’ve haven’t had anyone to go watch Gay Hockey. If it’s a week visit filled with Hockey or the Cooking Channel, it will be fun jus to spend time with him.

This week also spurs the call from the Mom asking me to come visit her. To be preemptive, I stopped by over the weekend. Her house looked amazing, not at all I expected from an eighty-three year old living alone. When asked about the up-keep she plainly stated that “the boys” come in once a week for cleaning and maintenance. She now has a parade of Mormon Missionaries come over every week and complete a long list of chores. When I stated that she’s using them as the help, like tie wearing, Book of Mormon thumping maids, she turned very defensive. “They like to come over. They enjoy helping me out!” She said pointing a finger at her cat, for some strange reason. Moral of the story, convert to Mormonism and get free maid service.

This seems to be the one time of year to just relax and enjoy friends. The stress and worry of life can wait for next week. Now it’s time to just plan the free time, make cheesecakes and get ready for the big parade on television Thursday morning.

Like a Rainbow

Over the weekend we went to the Denver Modernism Show. A trade show dedicated to all things Mid-century architecture and collectibles. We went because well…. We’re gay and it’s the law to like collecting quirky things. If we were twenty years older we would have been searching for the last bit of Erté for our collection at the Art Deco fair. So, in flip-flops and a strong understanding of late Bauhaus we marched.

During our search through chrome home furnishing and ironic art, the six of us started to discuss our childhood involving the Sears or Wards Catalogs. Here in the US you had the Sears Catalog or the Montgomery Ward’s catalogue to buy from. We were Wards.

When I was around eight my Mom took me the catalogue office inside our local Wards' department store. I remember that we were finally going to buy new towels and since there are seven kids, she was going to buy a lot of towels. I remember being so excited to have new towels to fold over and over on the unused towel bar in our heavily used bathroom. Since the plastic tiles in this room were baby blue I thought a nice Sea Foam green would accentuate nicely. As we approached the counter I explained my color palette idea like Candice on Divine Design would sit down with her clients, tossing around the color story I had in mind for this particular room of our over sized ranch house.

Quickly my design expertise was being ignored when my Mother started to order one of every color. “Like a rainbow” she explained. “No!” I shrieked. “How will I be able to folded out an entire splash of color if the towels don’t match?!” I started to panic; my design was being hacked apart. Doesn’t she understand her designer has her bathroom’s color story set?

I did what every eight year old gay boy did. I threw a tantrum in the middle of the Montgomery Ward’s catalogue department screaming that I wanted all matching towels. Candice Olsen would have done the same. She too would have been marched crying to the car.

For years I had to triple fold and hang a green hand towel on top of a red bath towel, which is why to this day I only have all white, Egyptian cotton towels.

POPPERS

I can’t remember if I’ve told you this one, so stop me if you’ve heard this one before.

Standing in Frank’s kitchen I got a call on my fancy new cell phone. It’s my Mom, the first thing she says is:

“Honey, do you like poppers?”

At this point your worlds collide, You start to think, did my Mom just ask me If I like Poppers? Is she pulling a Jeffrey on me?

“Uh, What?”
“Well when you come over I’ve got some new poppers in the fridge.”



Okay, so that’s where I keep my bottle of poppers so this just added to the little hamster that usually saunters like RuPaul on the wheel that is my brain to get thrown off on to the Saxony plush.













“Uh, What?”
“Well, they're cheddar or cream cheese. I know how much like cheesy poppers so I bought you some.”

Ah, my world isn’t colliding in on its self. It was just Cheesy Jalapeño Poppers. My VCR can’t get clean with cheese; but, my belly will get happy.

GRATUATION DAY

I went to my Nephew's graduation from high school yesterday. I had forgotten how unbelievably boring these things are. I sat with the Nieces and talked about Depeche Mode’s new album. At one point my sister snapped at her daughter for texting during the ceremony. The Niece calmly stated, that she was texting her brother out on the field.

“I can see that! He’s not even paying attention to his own graduation.”

My sister countered. That’s when I thought, maybe I shouldn’t be texting him, or my Nieces right now.

In the middle of the ceremony my Mom leans over and quietly states;

“You’re getting really fat.”

“Uh, thanks.” I enthusiastically say back “I have 19’ arms, I do yoga regularly, and I can bench 315 this isn’t fat this is solid man meat!” She didn’t turn around again.

The call

Every year I get the call. So why this year I was blind sited, no clue. The IPhone started ringing Basshunter, I picked up and it was Mom. Damn! It was her twice yearly call to get me to come home. To have a nice Mormon Thanksgiving.

The Mom used every trick to have me join the passive-aggressive clan. It would of worked but fear is an amazing motivator. In mere seconds I spun a web of deceit, of an utter amazing lock tight alibi. Whooo.. that was a close one, a lie will set you free. Apparently I’m feeding children or releasing wolves back into the wild or feeding children to wolves. I said it was quick, not good. Yes, I lied to my mom. But this is after years of having the conversations and arguments about this topic. About my life, asking then demanding respect for my partners and myself. This really has not helped more then getting me hoarse. In the end I make a choice. Do I fight against their belief that if I show up, open my mouth around their kids they will be somehow turned septic? Or….. just say “No thank you.”
Chicken shit? Yeah. But so is, "Steve can come, but someone needs to tell him not to bring any of those friends."

I’ll be joining my real family for a great Turkey day over at Frank and Kevin’s. Family is not what is thrust upon you, as much as the family you create.

Why do you make me talk to her?

So, how’s your life after the election. Mine is FUCKING FANTASTIC! Other than prop. 8 in Cali that is. I got a call last night from the Mom. Why do I talk to that woman? I had avoided any contact from her when I heard that her Mormon Church was collecting money to "stop perversion in California.” Yeah, right. Seriously. It was one of “those” talks. It went something like this:

No, we did not just elect a “Muslin.” As that would mean the president is a thin plain-weave cotton fabric.

No. Actually there are numerous polls and data that shows that race was not a factor. Age was more of a factor. Just to show that people in their 70s should be ground up into Soylent Green (she's 70.)

No. I can assure you that “Shag” will not be installed in the Oval Office. Those words are not allowed to be spoken to me. (Not shag... she used the “N” word.)

Yes. I’m sure you are happy that the Mormon Church “defended marriage.” Denying your third son the simple right, that your other six children have of growing old with someone is an amazing Mormon Cru'de'tet. (Yes I know, I said amazing Mormon appetizer.) I thought it was funny, mostly because she didn’t get it.

Her response?

*CLICK*

When you remind a Mormon who is spouting off about “Family Values” that they’re a bunch of polygamist hypocrites. You’ll get that, check this out:


I think we’re done taking for a while. I didn’t think to bring up a couple of things just to piss her off. This is from Denver’s channel four, Thanks Jerrod.
"Republican Rep. Marilyn Musgrave [author of the federal gay marriage ban] lost her bid for a fourth term as Democrats surged across Colorado, picking up two congressional seats and delivering nine electoral votes to Barack Obama.

The Democratic tide in Colorado also appeared to include election of the nation's first openly gay non-incumbent, Jared Polis, in a left-leaning district with an open seat."

Who is Jared Polis?