Calling My Deceased Mom

So I called the number of my deceased mom. It’s been 17 years since her death. I did it because I miss her so much. I did it because the emptiness that I feel with so many of my so-called “important” relationships made me feel desperate enough to want to call her old number.

So I did.

A lady answered. I told her what I was doing. That I was just sad, feeling empty. That I just had to call my mom’s old number. She understood. She listened, and so did I. She had time, and seemed to feel comfortable unloading to a stranger. Medicare not covering her care. Pet issues. Distant relationships with her daughter. It all resonated.

We spent about an hour on the phone. I had to return to my life, and she to her soaps. We did not say that we would remain in contact, though I did let her know that was a possibility. She thought that would be nice. I doubt it will happen. I did send her a photo of our grandson, and found it refreshing to not read “yeah, I saw it on Facebook.”

I wasn’t really looking for answers. Just connection. We accomplished that. That’s all I wanted. That’s apparently all she wanted as well. Thanks mom for the cosmic link that brought a ray of sunshine to my day and to that of a complete stranger.

Re-homing Emma

Our neighbor Annie smiled at us, and asked if we would take her dog Emma as our own when Annie passes. 6-12 months her oncologist tells her. Emma is her baby. We already have our Golden and a cat, so we said we couldn’t take Emma, but that we would help find a home for her. We’ll even foster her when the time comes. There is interest in sweet Emma. But how do we go about talking with Annie about it when Emma is all she has? Would Annie like to meet the interested person? Is it too soon? How is time, sweet time, calculated right now for Annie? What’s cancer’s own sick time schedule? What’s best for Emma now while Mom has no reason to let go? What’s best for her down the road? We know, but the timing just isn’t right. It’s too delicate. Too tender. So for now, we take Emma on walks with us. She even plays with Grace in our backyard. It’s fun for all of us, while Annie remains at home, watching TV, and drinking Coke, the full throttle version because as she says, “what the hell!”

Seeking Connection

So I ride everywhere on my bike. I also wave a lot, say “hi,” and complement people on their homes and yards. I do this typically while riding by, and 100 percent of the time they respond with a wave or smile. These are folks who may support issues and beliefs that are contrary to my beliefs. I don’t care. I’m seeking connection and friendliness, and so I give it out. An individual I often see whose lawn signs indicate that we are on separate sides of the political fence also has a lawn sign in his yard that supports a fundraiser for the cancer center where I seek treatment. When I told him that I am a patient there, he replied with a “God bless” and a broad smile. That made me happy. I will continue to reach out, hold doors for folks, say hi, and be respectful. I’m supposed to believe that we are all so disconnected from one another. That may be true, but I’m trying through my actions and through my music to bridge the unhealthy gap. I want that sense of connection regardless of different belief systems. I know it sure makes my day better!

Gay, but still a guy

I may be gay, but I’m still a guy. I feel sometimes that my straight female friends have different expectations of me than they do of their husbands or straight male friends. I experience this particularly around communication issues. For example, I’m a member of an ongoing group text. None of the husbands are members, even though I’m friends with them too. It’s as if they’ve been excluded, while I’ve been included because I’m more responsive? Because I’m not their husbands? This treating me differently has drawbacks because if I do pull back, I notice how my female friends get disappointed and pull back too. Am I acting more like their husbands? Heaven forbid! Sure, my sensitivities and interests may be more similar to theirs than to their husbands’. But, just because I’m gay doesn’t naturally translate into a greater willingness to chat or share for example. So don’t count me out if I share some of your husbands’ or straight male friends’ habits and tendencies that you find distasteful. Sure, it may be that we bond on a unique level. But that doesn’t make me “one of the girls.” Your expectations shouldn’t be aligned with who you think I should be, or with who you want me to be. That’s unfair to both of us. I believe that reality minus expectations equals happiness. I know that I will be happier if their expectations of me are kept in check. I’m a proud gay man, but I’m a man first. If I disappoint you because I evince behaviors that remind you of your straight husbands and straight male friends, then too bad!

Stay in This Game

The process of turning a poem into a song is really fun. I hope you like this sad, though ultimately hopeful, tune.

I see people not slogans

Are we divided because people are telling us that we are, or are we really divided? Poppycock I say! I see a human being where others seem to be telling me to see a Republican or a Democrat. I see a farmer, construction worker, attorney, or drag queen. I don’t see, or even hear, division. Of course I understand division at the national level, especially on Capitol Hill. I know how political division creates mistrust and othering. But, when I go to the grocery store, drive by a car show, watch football fans tailgating, or janitors doing their jobs, I see people not slogans. I am not naive. I do believe that a coming together on policy is doable as long as our elected officials keep their eyes on constituents’ real needs and not on power for power’s sake. In the meantime, I will focus on the individual, and hope that we can share conversation because all we really want is to love and be loved.

Smile Eyes

Never did I think when I first saw those smile eyes of yours
That we’d be together 30 years later.
Soft greenish eyes that drew me in.
Laugh lines that let me immediately see your kindness,
Your generosity. Your loving spirit.

I knew it then, but now I really know it,
That your smile eyes were your external entry points
For me to love you, to grow to love you even more
Over days and years
When your eyes may not have always wanted to smile,
But, somehow, and in a deep way, always did.

Smile, an “s” plus “mile,” and gee how we have driven those
Miles together, through adoption, death, successes, and health scares,
Sometimes with tears, often with laughter, and most assuredly
With love.
I would not want to have lived those miles without you.
I would not want to have breathed without your smile on my chest,
Your hand in mine, your words in my ears, without your smiling eyes
That have made my life more complete.

Eyes see and are seen.
Smiles see through the eyes that guide them into position.
When eyes smile, they see, are seen, and project warmth, security,
Support, and of course, love.
Your smile eyes did that then and do that for me now.
You do not live sightless among the miracles.
You do not let life’s ups and downs diminish you, or cause you to question
Your principles.

For you are strong, my dear friend of the earth,
My love for all ages,
My partner on this path.
Your smile eyes remain as the wrinkles have appeared,
And as time has made us more cynical and perhaps even a bit
Sad.

Miles and miles of smiles remain for you,
For us.
Your smile eyes break my heart.
Your smile eyes give me life.

Landscapes of Hush

come walk with me
down solitary road
of gravel rock
through harvests fitfully shorn,
of skins that protected
during salty warm days
when sweat flushed/flowed
in solitary streams
from north to south.

come accompany me
down memory lane.
bare your skin/hide,
let me in on
what you felt
each day – over months,
unprotected from pain so
forcefully harvested and
roasted/toasted
when you strayed
from the path.

but for now come
partner me with your hand
and solace/silence
your weariness
through landscapes
of hush,
hush now my friend
of the solitary lane.

walking together is a silent thing.
words are not allowed along these paths.
they’re simply too loud.

 

shades of you

honest I don’t do three shades of you
with nothing to do
except pine after your
lying flat ass
on withered brown grass
dark odors pass
from the he said/she said screw
you cheap bastard
much rounder you are
than when we met in the bar
before doing it in the back seat of the car
we didn’t get far
away, much ahead
didn’t get much for the care
we once shared
when we knew we could dare
to love, caress with abandon
me you did.

I cared, you jerk.

The fourth shade of you

I couldn’t have known.

So needlessly blown

By the other shades

You cared not to show.

Days of Bitter Tears

I left you at the baggage check, so hard to hold back the tears. We’ve been so close for so long now, we’ve lived and loved for years.

It’s not so clear why you have to go, you suppose it’s for the best. I’m standing here all full of doubt. I guess I did my best.

We loved once, just you and I, we go back so many years. There’ll be no breaking my love apart through the days of bitter tears.

You stood there just about to go. From me you set yourself free. But how could I protest when we knew you and I could no longer be we?

We loved once, just you and I, we go back so many years. There’ll be no breaking our love apart through the days of bitter tears.