The Ghost of Christmas Past

Hello Everybody,

I’ve been absent for a few weeks, making my way through the holidays. I have always found the holidays to be an anomaly. The holidays are the happiest of times—you travel, make time for family, and acknowledge it’s a special time to share with special people. There is such a build up that sometimes the actual event becomes anticlimatical. I don’t know why but I am always a bit melancholy. There is a gloom or sadness that comes over me and takes a few days to shake off. This year I consciously tried to figure out where this comes from. I can only conclude that it’s the result of a bunch of stuff—probably the accumulation of Christmas over many lifetimes. Perhaps I expect too much from others. Perhaps I expect too much from myself and feel some guilt for not being everything I think I should be. At any rate, I’m glad Christmas is over and a new year is about to begin.

I love New Year’s. You can say goodbye to all the pooh pooh of the previous year and hello to all the good stuff coming in with the New Year. I’m not one for resolutions. But I always begin each year with a hope and optimism that it will absolutely be the best one yet! I never look back with regrets. I believe life is a journey and it’s up to us to enjoy the ride. Oh yes, the road can get mighty bumpy. That just makes the good times feel so much smoother. Sometimes it takes a good bump to get our attention.

So let us begin a new year together. The old has passed away. Let us pray for peace and love for all mankind. Let us maintain our faith and keep our hearts full of joy!

Peace and Love

The "C" Word

On September 5, 2000 my world changed forever! It was the week of my birthday and also my mammogram. I had been going every six months because the radiologist had been watching something in my right breast. I had missed my scheduled appointment and was a couple of months late. This is where the chain of events took on a life of their own. If I had ever doubted there was a greater power, I certainly have not since that day.

The appointment began as usual—undress from the waist up; “the smock opens in the front”, wait in the TV room with the other smocketts. You are called into a cold room, told to take off the smock, and lay your boob on an ice cold machine. The technician pulls and tugs—getting your boob just right, then she lowers the torture squeeze. The squeeze stops automatically—then she cranks it down another notch—OUCH! She tells you not to move—like you could locked into the squeeze machine! You can’t even breathe! I was only scheduled for the right breast. The technician said since it was only a couple of months until the annual test, she was going ahead and do both.

Once the pictures are taken you return to the TV room and wait for the film to be reviewed before getting dressed. My tit squeezer came back and told me she needed another picture. It didn’t concern me because we had been going through this for a year now. But it wasn’t the right but the left one she wanted to see. Not one more picture but four! Once again wait. The next time she came for me it was to go see the doctor. She first tried to put me at ease by telling me she is probably overly cautious because she had a mastectomy a couple of years ago—anyway she wanted me to come back the next morning for a needle biopsy. Now I was concerned, not a little but a lot! I went back by work and told my cohort I would be out the next day and went home.

I don’t remember if the crying started that day or the next, but it continues to this day. I saw Sheryl Crow on the Oprah show the other day and she said the same thing. So I feel better about it. I like her a lot so its ok we cry together. There is absolutely no way to explain how you feel—but scared is an understatement. So the next day I go for the biopsy. It HURT! My radiologist was supposed to assist another doctor, but he was not available and she was not waiting so we began. I don’t know how many entries were made into my breast, nor how many times a nerve was hit but I was in excruciating pain. I did not scream but I wanted to. The doc told me she was having the tissue hand delivered to the lab in hopes of getting an early reading.

She called me early the next morning and asked me to come in. She said it was the first time the doctor at the lab personally called her and told her to proceed. My partner accompanied me to the office and we received the news, I had cancer! My body began to shake and the tears fell. My doctor already had an appointment with the surgeon. So off we went. He was precious and had been by his mom’s side when she battled breast cancer. He knew exactly what I was going through. And surgery was scheduled exactly a week from the initial mammogram. That week is still a blur; in fact the whole thing is still surreal. But needless to say, I was taken care of—even if my boob was black and blue from the biopsy. I had a partial mastectomy and radiation.

I was truly one of the lucky ones. It was caught so early and I could not have had more caring and competent doctors. I will always be grateful for the care I received.

I will never be the same. Life became so precious. I have a limited amount of energy and I am very particular how I spend my time. I have learned to say no and I only want to be with people who bring me up. I want to laugh a lot. I want to make good memories. And I don’t want to be around ugly and hateful people. I’m all about love, peace and happiness.

I still cry daily, but it’s not about unhappy or sad stuff. It’s about the extra life I’ve been given and the love I receive and am allowed to give. If you ever hear those scary words, I hope you are as fortunate as I’ve been. In the meantime, don’t wait for that to begin living the life you are meant to live. Find someone who deserves your love and loves you back. Be good to others and most of all be good to yourself.

Peace and love.

"The Veranda Party"

Bet you’re wondering what in the world a veranda party is! I don’t know an official definition. But I’ll tell you what it is for me.

Once a week, on Thursday nights, three of us gather on the telephone. This is one of my favorite times because I get to visit with my chum in Florida. We don’t get to see each other nearly often enough, but we sure make up for it on the telephone.

Now you’re asking, how did it become a Veranda party? Well our chum SLS who lives in Florida is convenienced her “Veranda” is God’s gift. It is a small version of what Heaven will be like—covered in plants and flowers, music always playing and shared with those you love most. Sounds like heaven to me. Anyway, that’s the Florida end of the party. On the other end—in NC, is me and my partner, DJ. When weather permits, we’re on our patio—it too, is a little piece of heaven. Everyone needs a special place—separate from the hustle bustle of daily life. That’s one of the special things about our party. It is a break from the work week—a time of total escape.

Our veranda parties last anywhere from ten minutes to two hours. Quite often we solve all of the world’s problems. And just as often, we create new ones. I think this is in direct proportion to the amount of wine consumption.

I can’t remember how long we’ve been having these parties but it probably started with the internet phone. I think this is one of the greatest inventions. Now, I must admit, I am technologically challenged, but this phone system is a must! You can talk long distance forever, have all the bells and whistles and a speaker on your phone. Now I ask you, what more could you want?

But back to the party. I hope you’ll consider starting one yourself. If you have someone far away you can’t see on a regular basis—try the veranda party. You may want to give it a different name—something or some place that has a special meaning for you. Life flies by so quickly. How special it will become for you to share time with someone you love. Who knows, maybe you’ll solve the problems we haven’t.

It is not a prerequisite, but I recommend keeping a bottle of wine on hand. Seems to make us laugh more. Have you ever realized how much better you feel after a good laugh? I don’t know what it releases, but it’s comparable to a good drug!

This brings up another good point about choosing your party buddies—only pick folks that are positive and make you laugh. There’s enough negative poop to deal with on a daily basis. Your veranda party is for fun, laughter and love. Nothing else is invited!!

So plan your party. Invite your guests and make it a weekly date. You will be amazed what it will add to your life.

Peace and love.

Humiliation Hurts

As soon as I finished last week’s entry, I began pondering this week’s topic. I heard and saw everything in a more meaningful way now that it is potential material for a blog. I ended up with several topics that seemed timely and provocative but the one that stood out is “humiliation".

I witnessed another individual’s humiliation and it literally felt like a punch in the stomach to me. I have not been able to shake the incident. I dusted off Mr. Webster and looked up his definition of Humiliation: "to hurt the pride or dignity of by causing to be or seen foolish or contemptible, to mortify or degrade". To me, these are strong ugly words. And to do this to another person is a mean ugly thing.

Quite often, humiliation is a deliberate act stemming from hurt or anger. You have been attacked so you’re lashing out and fighting back. This too, is hurtful and damages relationships. However, this is not the situation I am addressing. What concerns me is my action and maybe yours when we speak before we think. Or if we have a weird sense of humor and think we’re cute at the expense of another. My family as a whole has a weird sense of humor and we quite often cut each other in order to get a laugh. Sometimes it really is funny, but I’m no so sure it always is.

I wonder how much damage is done to children by parents who constantly humiliated them in their young formative years. Constant belittlement will eventually peal down the personality and could potentially cause life long damage.

I can’t help but wonder who I might have unknowingly humiliated along the way. I’m sure I have and somehow I would love to have the opportunity to see these folks and say—I am truly sorry. I know it is painful because it has happened to me. It touches a corner of your soul that is rarely reached and it feels terrible.

In our effort to spread love, lets start the old practice of thinking before we speak. Let’s not attack each other. Differences are not a bad thing. It is diversity that broadens our horizons and makes us wiser. Let us never humiliate another person as long as we live. It does not make us look smarter nor more powerful. Instead, it makes us appear weak and bullish.

To degrade another is simply wrong. If we have any chance of self actualization, we must make humiliation extinct! Let us always and forever, love one another just because it’s the right thing to do.

Peace and Love.

"I Can't Be A Baptist"

I was raised in Southern Baptist churches. Even though I have broadened my horizons as I’ve grown. I have always been grateful for my upbringing and exposure to the Baptist doctrine. Thankfully, my parents allowed me to pick and choose what worked for me and didn’t force feed the whole way of life.

My siblings and I always said we were at church every time the doors opened—on Sunday’s, Sunday School and church in the morning; Training Union and church at night. On Wednesday nights back for another sermon. And of course, GA’s in between. I made it through “Lady in Waiting”. Never thought how funny that was. Wonder what the “Lady” was waiting on? There was always a church related camp in the summer. Most of the kids loved camp. Not me, I was always homesick. Somehow, my mom was more important than Jesus and I missed her dreadfully. Still do! Some folks (Baptist) think this is a sin—but not my God. He totally understands this love and guess what! He loves me, even if the Baptist don’t.

Funny thing, at one of those summer camps, when I was ten or twelve, we were sitting around the campfire. Probably singing KumByYa or something when I felt the presence of God. We had a nice chat and I felt called to be a missionary. But guess what, even at that young age I knew that was not acceptable in the Baptist church for someone like me. For you see, I am a homosexual. Yes, as of yesterday I am no longer welcome in the Baptist church! My mom is and on yes, they will accept her money but not her daughter! Wonder how my life might have taken a different turn that faithful night had I not been Baptist. But that’s another story for another day.

This week in North Caroling, the Baptist are having their annual convention and the big thing on their agenda is getting the sinning homosexuals out of their churches. Guess they will have to rewrite the Golden Rule and some of the Ten Commandments.

• “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you—unless they are homosexuals.”

• “Love you neighbor as yourself—unless they’re a homosexual.”

• “Honor your father and mother—unless they’re homosexuals.”

What about Luke 6:22-23—“Blessed are you when men hate you, and when they exclude you, and revile you, and cast out your name as evil! For the Son of Man’s sake. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy! For indeed your reward is great in heaven.” Or Luke 6:37—“Judge not, and you shall not be judged. Condemn not, and you shall not be condemned.”

Remember my friends, God created us and loves us just the way we are. Who are you to love us less?

My heart is heavy tonight,

Peace and Love