Dad: A Late Father's Day Post

 
This is a little late because by the time I finish writing this post, Father's Day will likely be over.  Nevertheless, I did want to write a few thoughts about my dad, who passed away 20 years ago while I was on my mission.

Seven months prior to my leaving for a mission, serving a mission for the Church was the furthest thing from my mind.  I was estranged from the Church, completely inactive, had started coming out to people, and was very much focused on college and my future career as an actor.  I had barely any relationship with God at all and what relationship I did have was filled with anger, bitterness, and confusion.  You can read about what changed me here.

In the last years of his life, Dad has suffered a series of debilitating strokes that had both racked him physically and changed his personality somewhat.  This was one of the many reasons I was angry at God at the time.  I couldn't understand why God would let all this suffering happen to such a good and decent man who had spent so much of his life serving Him.  I was angry that the dad I had grown up with was "gone" and replaced by this crippled, slow, and dependent dad.  I was impatient with his health issues and because I was such a selfish kid at the time anyway, I wasn't always as kind as I ought to have been.

But as God softened my heart in the months leading to my transformation, I started to realize that there were things I really liked about this dad.  Old dad was very quiet and didn't show his emotions easily.  He was very loving, and I knew he loved me, but he didn't share very much of his inner feelings.  New dad could not control his emotions.  If he thought something was funny, he laughed so hard he would drool and choke.  If something upset him, he would sob uncontrollably.  At first, seeing this scared me because I was not used to seeing my dad this way; but I actually grew to like it because it helped me see this man who was usually so guarded with his emotions expressing the things he actually felt inside, and I think that was very healthy.  I think Dad often kept his feelings bottled up, and I theorize it may have contributed to his health problems.

Dad was very shaky on his feet.  His equilibrium had really gone kaput after the strokes.  I recently remembered a time we went bowling (a sport Dad quite enjoyed) shortly before his strokes made doing that impossible.  His balance was off, and every time he'd bowl, it would knock him off his feet onto his butt.  If he would've gotten hurt, it wouldn't be a pleasant memory, but it is a good memory because each time it would happen, Dad would just laugh.  I don't know that I thought it funny at the time, but it makes me smile now.

Dad had to walk with a cane and a walker.  The summer before I left for my mission, Dad had kind of given up on walking, and I started getting him walking again.  I would make him walk with both the walker and cane, and I grew to be much more patient with him.  It was good for both of us.

Dad had to have a catheter hooked to his penis because he kept wetting himself.  In my bitter moments, I was resentful that Dad had lost his independence, and I know Dad felt embarrassment that we had to change his catheter (and I admit I couldn't do it; it was too embarrassing to me, too), but Dad never complained about his condition (to me, at least), and I admired how he handled his illness.

The only time I ever heard Dad get angry about his stroke was when he started to lose his ability to speak clearly.  He was really frustrated this one time and Mom asked him what was wrong, and he just spewed, "I CAN'T TALK!"  That was the only time over the years of strokes that I heard him get angry.  But then, Dad rarely ever showed anger.  He was a very gentle, mild-mannered man.

Dad was so happy when I gained my testimony.  He was thrilled that I was going on a mission - something I think he had lost faith I would ever do.  Yet he never judged or scolded me during the time I was inactive.  Like Mom, I think he was prompted to let me find my own way, which I think is exactly how it needed to be.  I think if they had pushed me towards the Church, it would have pushed me away instead.

When I went on my mission, they were still doing farewells, so the whole meeting was dedicated to my leaving, and my whole family was involved in the program.  I had assigned everyone to talk, including Dad, who could barely get anything out.  I think I just assumed God would provide a miracle and make my dad well enough to give his whole talk.

Dad shuffled up to the podium and attempted to give his talk.  He spoke haltingly, struggling to get the words out...and then he started sobbing as emotion overtook him.  Then he tried again, but couldn't do it.  I finally realized that he either wouldn't get through it or that by the time he did, there would be no time left for my mother and sister to speak.  I stood up next to him and asked him if he wanted me to give his talk for him.  He nodded, "yes," I placed my arm around him, and proceeded to read the words he had written himself:

"'And they who endure to the end, they shall be lifted up at the last day.'  I have chosen this subject because it's the hardest for me, especially with health problems I've had.  The dictionary defines 'endure' as 'to hold up under pain and fatigue.'  This is so hard for me.  Because of my first stroke, I was able to take an early retirement which allowed me to serve my fellow man in a way I could not have done otherwise.  With my last stroke, I met a lot of people at the rehab center who have had a great influence on my life, and I pray that I have been an influence on them.

"We've been told that it is important that we 'endure to the end.'  This is necessary to enter into the kingdom of God.  We all have different endurances.  Mine is health.  Yours may be something else, but whatever it is, I pray that we can all endure to the end because the reward will be worth it.

"In conclusion, I know that [Cody] will do a good job.  Anything he puts his mind to, he always does a good job, and I know that he will be able to handle the endurances that will come from his mission."

After I finished reading Dad's talk, he looked at me with such loving eyes and said, "Thank you."  When I hear it on the recording of my farewell, it just breaks my heart (in a good way).

Somebody told me after my farewell that the last time they saw a father and son exhibit the love he saw was when he saw David O McKay with his father on some occasion.  I do not remember what occasion, but the point is he was moved.  It wasn't my intention to move anybody.  I was just trying to help my dad get through a difficult thing.

In my own talk, I talked about prayer and trusting God, and I talked about how I had found so many positives in my father's health issues, and that we were closer than we had ever been, which was true in some ways.

When I said goodbye to my dad at the airport two months later, something very strange happened.  I had the distinct impression that I should make the hug I gave him really count because I would not see him again in this life.  At the time, I dismissed the thought (although I did give him a good hug) because Dad, although he was experiencing inconvenient health issues, was certainly not having any life-threatening issues.  Less than a year later, however, Dad contracted pneumonia, and it became clear that he would not survive.

People have often asked me, "Wasn't it hard staying out on your mission when your dad died?"  It may sound weird, but no, it wasn't.  I knew I was supposed to be doing what I was doing, I was happy to be doing what I was doing, it felt important to be doing what I was doing, and most important of all, Dad wanted me to be doing what I was doing.  It was a no-brainer.  It wasn't like I could help Dad; but I could help the people I was teaching.  And it wasn't as if I didn't think I would ever see him again.  I know I will.

Dad hung on for about a month.  He was miserable.  I'm actually glad I missed all the suffering.  And I was glad when he was finally released from the pain.

Dad never knew I was gay.  The only person in my family who I told prior to gaining a testimony was my sister, and once I gained one, I felt no need to share that part of myself because I thought I would overcome it.  Dad never knew.  I always wonder how he would have responded to my coming out and to my relationship with Jonah.  I suspect he would have been accepting and supportive.  He may have reacted the way my brother initially did, which was not approving, but still loving and supportive.  I think Dad would like Jonah.

I think Dad would be proud of who I've become.  I hope so anyway.  Some of my best qualities came from my dad's example.  I know Dad would be very pleased at how I've tried to take care of Mom (and by the way, Dad's health problems helped better prepare me for how to more patiently and lovingly deal with Mom's, so thanks, Dad.).

I miss Dad.  He was a truly great guy.  I don't know anybody who ever had a bad word to say about my father.  I admired him a lot.  Actually, there is a lot of my dad in my brother (who I greatly admire as well).

Sometimes little things remind me of him.  If I hear a country song like "Elvira" or a folk song like "Hang Down Your Head, Tom Dooley," I think of him.  When I see old pictures of him, I think of him.  Sometimes I'll run across an item of his in my mom's house like an old briefcase or his tool box, and I think of him.  Or when I glance at whoever happens to be the ward clerk (a position my dad held for many years), I think of him.

I loved him.  Still do.  Happy Late Father's Day, Dad!  Thanks for your example.  It has helped make me who I am.  I hope you're proud of me.

[Side note: When I re-listened to some of my farewell, I was struck by yet another example of my unorthodox nature: I had long hair at my farewell.  Quite long.  I had put it in a pony tail, if I recall, to make it look more "missionary-like," but I was doing a play shortly after my farewell, and I was required to have long hair for the part.  But I am pleased I had long hair at my missionary farewell because that really describes the kind of person I am.

I was also struck by the fact that my bishop at the time was struck down later by some terrible health issues which eventually caused his death.  The last time I saw him was in the hospital, and it reminded me so much of my dad.

I also was a bit nostalgic for how much sharper and "with it" my mom was than she is now.

I also thought it funny that my best friend at the time, with whom I sang a duet (a pretty good one at that) has also since come out of the closet.  Unlike me, I don't think he attends church anymore, although I don't think he has any hard feelings toward the LDS Church either.

Finally, I was struck by how young I am.  I've matured a lot, I think.  But I am also impressed with how fervent and absolutely full of the Spirit I seemed to be.  And, boy, is my voice nasally (something I became more aware of in Speech class in graduate school).]

Josh and Lolly Weed: How I Feel About That

I'm sure many of you have seen or read about this blog post from a gay guy who's been married to a woman for ten years and came out to the world via his blog to let everyone know that he and his wife are very happy and satisfied with their relationship.

Jonah brought this blog post to my attention two days ago, and in the following days I have seen many of my Facebook friends posting links and comments about it.  Obviously, it has gone viral.

The post got under Jonah's skin.  I didn't feel as strongly about it as he did, but understood why it upset him, and I agree with much of what he felt.  As I've thought more about it, I decided to post my feelings about it.

If you don't feel like reading Josh Wood's entire post, let me sum it up for you.  Basically, Josh Weed is a devout, believing Mormon who is also a therapist, but is also homosexual and has been in a mixed-orientation marriage for ten years.  He says that in spite of the fact that he is attracted to men, he and his wife have a fulfilling marriage and sex life because it is built on "intimacy, communication, genuine love and affection."  He loves his wife, his career, his education, and his three kids.

Josh's wife, Lolly, knew Josh was gay before she married him.  Lolly actually writes about her experiences dating and deciding to marry Josh.  Josh and Lolly knew each other from a young age, and she was the first person (aside from his parents) that Josh told about his homosexuality.  Although she could see Josh was very devoted to God and the teachings of the LDS Church, she didn't initially see herself marrying him.  Eventually, however, she realized Josh was everything she was looking for in a husband (well, except for the gay part).  Josh felt she was everything he wanted in a wife as well.  Lolly, however, had doubts, and Josh asked her the question, "Am I worth it to you?"  

Although the full impact of that question did not hit her until later, she realized, in her words: "When you get married, you are accepting a person as a package deal—the good, the bad, the hard, the amazing and the imperfect....I knew that I loved Josh. I loved All of him. I wanted to marry him. I wanted to marry Josh Weed because I loved the man that he was. I loved everything that made him him. I didn't want anyone else. I knew that we had the kind of relationship that could work through hard trials and circumstances. I had faith in him and I had faith in our love. I did not choose to marry someone who is gay. I chose to marry Josh Weed, the man that I love, and to accept all of him. I have never regretted it."

Josh explains that the reasons he chose not to pursue a same-sex relationship in spite of his attractions were because he believes the doctrines of the LDS Church are true; he wanted a wife and biological children; and ultimately he loves Lolly and wanted to be with her for the rest of his life.  Josh didn't feel the sacrifices he would make being in a same-sex relationship were worth the sacrifices he would make choosing to be with his wife.  For him, "It all comes down to what you choose and why, and knowing what you want for yourself and why you want it. That’s basically what life is all about," and Lolly and he both chose the life they have and, according to them, have never regretted it.

Josh does make it clear (his words) that "while I have found a path that brings me profound joy and that is the right path for me, I don’t endorse this as the only path for somebody who is gay and religious. I will never, ever judge somebody else’s path as being “incorrect” and I know many people who have chosen different paths than myself."

He further goes on to say that those who know and love someone who is gay need to just love them and fight the impulses to correct or control them or force them down what they feel is the right path for that loved one; that even if what they do goes against what you believe to be true, you need to let go, let them govern themselves, and trust that they will find the path that is best for them.

He also pleads for those gay Christians out there to accept themselves as they are; that they are not broken or evil, and that God loves them and will take them where they need to go.  He then tells the readers of his post that however they feel about his post, it's okay.  He says it's okay if you think that being gay is a matter of choice or that it's hard to believe that a gay person could be happy in a mixed-orientation marriage or if you think a marriage like his is impossible or if you think that a person can't be gay and Christian.  He says whatever emotion you feel, it's okay to feel it because this issue is both emotional and complex.  But he promises that whatever each reader is feeling, he is not lying to them.  This is his truth.

That's basically the gist of his post.  Jonah and I had a long discussion about it, and I've discussed it with a couple of other friends as well.  If Josh and Lolly are being completely honest (and really, I have no reason to believe they aren't), then who am I say that their path isn't right for them?  If they are truly happy, why would I have a problem with that?

What I do have a problem with (and I do not feel that it is Josh's intent) is that I hope that people will remember everything Josh has said and not just the parts they agree with.  Josh, himself, says his path is not necessarily the right path for anyone else and pleads with people to allow them to find their own path, and I think that is key.

I have always said in my blog that my path was right for me, but I do not dismiss that other paths are just as valid based on each individual's circumstance.  Never in a million years would I say that Josh and Lolly's path is wrong if it's truly working for them.  Whether it is, only they will know.

As I discussed this with Jonah, one of our fears is that it would be irresponsible if Josh or Lolly or any readers of the post (including ecclesiastical leaders, therapists, family members of gay people, friends of gay people themselves, or gay people themselves) use this story to promote the idea that what may have worked for Josh and his wife will work for them.  It is my opinion (and it is just that: an opinion) that people like Josh and Lolly are the exception, not the rule.

  Jonah and I worry that naive or unprepared people will read this story and think, "Well, if they can do it, so can we," but instead be left with heartache and disappointment. We worry that ecclesiastical leaders or family members will use this story as a way of saying, "See, you can change," and end up doing more harm than good. Although he doesn't indicate it and actually, seems to indicate that he doesn't push the idea, I worry that someone like Josh, who is s therapist, will say, "Well, this worked for me, so it can work for you, too," when in fact, it may not.

I have seen too many people attempt the same kind of relationship as Josh and his wife, and I have seen marriages end in messy divorce, seen wives' self- esteem deteriorate, seen innocent children left in the dust, spouses cheating on each other in same-sex liaisons, and couples unhappily trudging through unfulfilled and empty marriages out of a sense of duty or obedience. I don't think it's good. But I admit that I have seen a couple of rare couples like Josh and his wife who do seem to be making it work, so I think it can be a valid choice provided that both parties are happy with it.

Jonah and I both know that such a relationship would not have been a good path for either of us.  Having been in several opposite-sex relationships and just the one same-sex one, I know without any doubt what has made me happier, and I would not give that up for anything. 

The bottom line is that each person's story is their own, and I can't control how they choose to share that story, nor I can I judge them for telling their own truth. I just don't want people to think that their truth is the only truth.

From reading Josh's post, I suspect that he does not feel that his truth is the only truth or the only option, but because that path has seemingly worked for him, I fear that he may be biased towards his own option.  I hope, like he says in his blog, that he would truly let each of his clients who may struggle with homosexual feelings find their own path in that regard and not try to force his own on them.

Ultimately, each person has to figure out what makes them happy.  Josh's path would not have made me happy, and perhaps my path would not have made him happy.  But each person does have to find their own path.  

Jonah is skeptical that Josh is really living an authentic life and that, due to his wiring, Josh and his wife are sacrificing too much.  I can't speak to that.  Only Josh and his wife know how their relationship truly is.  But Jonah and I do agree that if people try to use Josh and Lolly's story to steer them on to a path that isn't good for them, that's no good.  And especially during this time when so many gay youth are already having such confusion and conflict, we worry that this story could cause more heartache than good because of false expectations.

Josh did say a couple of things that I wanted to highlight.  One was the following quote:

"One of the sad truths about being homosexual is that no matter what you decide for your future, you have to sacrifice something. It’s very sad, but it is true. ...If you are Mormon and you choose to live your religion, you are sacrificing the ability to have a romantic relationship with a same-sex partner. If you choose a same-sex partner, you are sacrificing the ability to have a biological family with the one you love.  And so on. No matter what path you choose, if you are gay you are giving up something basic, and sometimes various things that are very basic. I chose not to 'live the gay lifestyle,' as it were, because I found that what I would have to give up to do so wasn’t worth the sacrifice for me."

"I find that when I think of what alternative lifestyles could offer me, they pale in comparison to the full, joyous, bounteous life I live. Thus, I believe that to live my life this way is being true to myself, and to go down any other path would be egregiously inauthentic and self-deceptive."

That may very well be true for Josh, but quite the opposite is true for me.  I gave up my place in a religion I loved and some would argue that I sacrificed my eternal salvation.  I would have been miserable trying to live as a gay man in a straight relationship, and I've written many times about how much happiness my relationship with Jonah has given me and how blessed we are because of it.  Living in a straight marriage would have been inauthentic and self-deceptive for me.  That is just as true for me as I have to assume Josh's relationship is for him.

Josh wanted biological children.  That was important to him.  But there are plenty of gay families out there whose children are just as precious and theirs as Josh's are to him and Lolly.

I was reading a story today about gay parents and their kids.  A straight couple can just have kids if they're fertile.  Many straight couples have kids by accident.  That doesn't happen much in gay relationships.  Having a kid involves a lot of planning and often a great financial investment.  Children of gay couples are rarely unplanned.  If Josh wanted biological kids of his own, I don't take issue with that.  But non-biological kids are just as important and loved by their parents.

I like Josh's last two recommendations:

"1. If you know and love somebody who is gay and LDS (or Christian), your job is to love and nothing more. Let go of your impulse to correct them or control them or propel them down the path you think is right for them. Do what you need to do to move past that impulse.  Do not condemn the choices your loved one makes. Love. Only love. Show your love in word and deed. Embrace them, both literally and figuratively. I promise they need it—and they need to feel like they can figure out this part of themselves in a safe way without ridicule and judgment. It’s what Christ would do. It’s what your loved one needs. Accept them. Love them. Genuinely and totally.

"If you are a parent or guardian, teach them what you know to be true in appropriate moments, with the Spirit. But then let go and let them govern themselves. Trust that they can find their own path. Let them live their life and have the experiences they need to learn and grow. Trust that they are in charge of their own agency and destiny. I promise you they will thank you. I also promise that pressuring them to live the life you want them to lead will only hamper their ability to make a genuine and authentic choice for their own future, be it what you hope for them or not. You will never, ever give your gay loved one a better gift than to love and accept them for who they are, right now, no matter what, period. The friends and family who did that for me (at varying points in my journey, including very recently) are cherished and will go down in the history of my life as the people that truly loved me, and as true Christians who helped me on my path. (And, btw, some of them are not technically even Christian—but to me are like Christ in their actions.)

"2. If you are gay and Mormon (or Christian), I want you to know how much love I feel for you, and how much I admire you. I know how hard it is to be where you are. I want you to do me a favor. I want you, right now, to take a deep breath, look in the mirror, and accept yourself as you are in this very instant. You are you. And your attractions are part of you. And you are totally okay! I promise. I want you to stop battling with this part of you that you may have understood as being sinful. Being gay does not mean you are a sinner or that you are evil. Sin is in action, not in temptation or attraction. I feel this is a very important distinction. This is true for every single person. You don’t get to choose your circumstances, but you do get to choose what you do with them. 

"I want you to know that God loves you, and that even though you are attracted to people of the same gender, you are a completely legitimate individual, worthy of God’s love, your family’s love, and the love of your friends. You are no more broken than any other person you meet. You are not evil. You are a beautiful child of God. Please don’t be ashamed. Know that you can be forgiven for any mistakes you have made, and that God is not judging you. He loves you. Turn to him. He has a plan specifically for you. He wants you to be happy, and he will take you by the hand, and guide you step by step to where you need to be if you trust Him. He is not angry with you, and He knows you completely, every part, even the parts you wish you could keep hidden. He knows it all, and he still loves you! He couldn’t love you any more, and he is proud of you for your courage. I wish you could know of my sincerity as I write these words, and how deeply I feel compassion for you." 

Anyway, those are my thoughts.

Mormons Building Bridges: Backlash And Why I Marched

Well, as I assumed would happen, people on both sides of the issue have commented about the Mormons Building Bridges march in the Utah Pride parade that I participated in last Sunday.  I've read comments ranging from gay people who thought the whole thing was a political stunt engineered by the LDS Church to improve their image to comments from pious LDS members who questioned just how "active" the members who marched really were and chastised them for breaking the Sabbath and supporting a deviant and sinful lifestyle.  I've read comments from gay people who appreciated the sentiment of the marchers but berated them for continuing to belong to an organization that is so intolerant and abusive to gay people, and I read comments from LDS members who appreciated the sentiments of the marchers but berated them for showing support for gay people in a misguided way.  Some people were mad at the group for not taking more of a stand in favor of gay rights and marriage equality; others were mad that they marched at all.  I've read comments from gay and straight people who were touched and incredibly moved by what occurred and I've read comments from the marchers themselves proclaiming that it was such a spiritual, fulfilling, moving, and worthwhile experience and that there was a great feeling of love involved.

Look, I can't speak for anybody but myself.  LDS members can certainly question my devotion and activity in the LDS Church since I am not officially a member anymore.  As far as I could tell, the majority of marchers are active members of the Church of Jesus-Christ of Latter-day Saints.  I know some were nervous about being there because they didn't know what to expect, how they would be received, or what the reaction of their church leaders and fellow members might be.  At the same time, they wanted to do something active to help bridge the gap between two groups of people that are often at odds with another and who don't seem to understand each others' position on this issue.

As for me, even if I'm not officially Mormon, I still consider myself Mormon.  It's true that I don't support or agree with the Church's position on this issue, and I think there is a lot leaders and members of the Church have done in the past to cause harm to those who identify themselves as gay.  Obviously my views and my relationship with Jonah are the reasons I have been excommunicated, and I own and take full responsibility for that.  However, even though I have been excommunicated, I still feel connected to a religion that has given me a great deal in spite of its flaws.  I still enjoy church and I go frequently.  I'm pretty much as active as a non-member can be.

My reasons for marching in the parade weren't to change church doctrine nor were they to promote any sort of political agenda.  For myself, I see so much hurt and misunderstanding from both sides.  Obviously, I'm for gay rights and marriage, and while I'd love for the Church to come out in favor of that, I don't see it happening nor do I expect it to.  So many gay Mormons or former Mormons have carried such pain and hurt from their families, their religious leaders, the society in which they grew up, and their religion.  Whether intentional or not, that pain and heartache exists.  Some people have felt abandoned by the very people and institutions who claim to love them.  And there are many in the LDS faith who are aware of that pain and wanted a way to reach out and say, "Hey, we love you.  We support who you are.  We know you have been hurt and want to do something symbolic to tell you that you are not as alone as you might feel."  Many LDS people are probably afraid to voice those feelings in a church setting for fear of being shot down or challenged.

The group went out of its way not to promote a political message, challenge church doctrine or to advocate anything other than love.  As for me, the march provided more meaning for me by allowing me to march as someone who has experienced much of the same alienation from a religion I still very much love.  It was my way of saying, "I know what some of you have experienced and where you've been and where you are, and even though Mormonism and the LGBT community have had their issues and conflicts, we can still close the gap in small ways like this and hopefully find more common ground and more love for one another over time."  At least, that is my hope.  I think I can understand the bitterness and cynicism other people feel toward the Church.  I think I can understand the devotion LDS members feel and the need to follow the leaders of Church and the gospel as it is understood.  I can understand that neither side believes it can or should compromise.  But I just want to find ways that I personally can help either side understand one another better; I want to find ways to let struggling gay Mormon youth know they are not alone; I want to find ways to help Church members and leaders understand what it's like to grow up gay in the Mormon Church and surrounded by Mormon culture.  I don't know if marching in a Pride parade accomplished any of that.  I did feel it was healing for some and brought opposite factions closer together, even if but for a moment in time, and that made it worth it for me.  It was also healing for me personally, and that certainly made it worth it.

I sometimes wonder if Thomas S. Monson were to stand up in a future General Conference and declare that after much contemplation and prayer, the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve felt impressed that it was God's will that those who deal with same-sex attraction should be afforded all the same rights and blessings as their heterosexual counterparts, would those faithful Saints who currently oppose gay rights and gay marriage be able to get on board?  That would never happen, many say - the Prophet would never declare such a thing - the Church will never, ever accept that - sin is always sin, etc., and they very well may be right in those assumptions.  But what I wonder is, hypothetically, would those same faithful Mormons who follow Church leaders' counsel without question do the same if such a thing were to occur, and if not, why?  If they believe God would never let the Prophet lead the Church astray and if they believe that the Prophet is indeed the mouthpiece of the Lord, if hypothetically the Prophet did make such a statement, would they have the faith to get on board or would they let old prejudices convince them otherwise.  Of course, if the Prophet actually did make such a statement, and it really were God's will, I imagine that those who took issue with it might pray about it and receive their own confirmation of whether it was God's will or not.  The point is probably moot, but it's something I think about.

Here are some various comments, posts, articles, and commentary, both positive and negative and also in-between, about the Mormons Building Bridges group's participation in last Sunday's Utah Pride parade. They are simply examples of many of the things I have read about our march.  Some I like better than others; some I whole-heartedly agree with; some have valid points; and some annoy me and make me mad.  Here they are, all for your perusal:

A post from a blog called Telestial State

A post from an active Mormon who didn't quite approve on The Cultural Hall Podcast

A simple and positive thought from somebody on PostMormon.org

A discussion on MormonDiscussions

Somebody who wished they had marched

Joanna Brooks' reporting of the event

An active Mormon who disapproved (and frankly, I think her sanctimonious tone negates the title of her blog)

This blogger says essentially the same thing, but in a less self-righteous tone, in my opinion.

A poster on GetReligion.org who criticized The Salt Lake Tribune's reporting of the story

A discussion on ExMormon.org that started with someone who was very cynical of the marchers' true intent and another on the same website that criticizes the marchers for not going far enough

Someone on Main Street Plaza who is a bit skeptical

A couple of posts on Wheat and Tares and a blog written by the same author, but which I have not finished reading.  They look interesting to me, though.

Comments by Troy Williams, gay activist, on his personal blog

Reflections of some of the marchers here, here, and here

A guy who wrote an article for City Weekly and didn't have many positive things to say about the marchers or the LDS Church

A discussion over at Mormon Mentality based on the question, "Would you march?"

A beautiful collection on Feminist Mormon Housewives of firsthand accounts from some of the attendees

Jana Riess' thoughts and a blogger's reaction to what she posted

And I found this post rather touching.  Stuff like that makes it all worth it to me.

Enjoy!

Feeling Such Pride

Today was an incredible and spiritual day.  I mentioned that last year instead of going to Pride, I instead went to church and ended up having a negative experience due to a couple of judgmental members making unkind statements about gay people.  To me, church is where you ought to feel the love and Spirit of God the most, and on that day it failed to do so.  On the other hand, I did appreciate the kind words that were said repudiating those other two members’ words, and in that sense, church did what it was supposed to do.

This year I decided not to make the same mistake I made last year and decided to attend Pride.  When I heard that a local LDS woman had decided to organize a group of LDS members to march in the Utah Pride parade in support and love for their LGBT brothers and sisters, and when I was asked on Facebook to join that group, I felt very inclined to do so even though it meant essentially snubbing co-workers, who was also marching in the parade.

I had never marched in the Pride parade before, although I have been invited to do so twice previously.  I’m not much of a parade guy, either watching or participating.  I don’t like crowds or getting up early or standing (or in this case, marching) in the heat.  Yet I felt so drawn to be a part of this crowd, which called itself Mormons Building Bridges because that is, after all, what I have tried so hard to do as a gay Mormon.

Part of me wondered if it was right to march with a crowd who, as far as I know, is a majority of active, straight members of the LDS Church.  After all, I am not straight and, according to the LDS Church, I am not longer officially Mormon.  Yet I do know that there was at least one other gay, semi-active man in the group, and even though I am no longer on the rolls of the Church, I still consider myself very much a Mormon.  The bottom line for was that if there is anyone who has tried to be a bridge builder between two groups of people who often don’t understand each other or get along, it is me.  I’ve tried very hard, too, to straddle the line between my sexuality and my religious upbringing, and so I felt I belonged to this group.

I ended up getting downtown about 15 minutes before I had originally planned to be there.  I was fortunate to find ample free parking and parked my car.  We had been asked by the organizers of the group to wear our Sunday best.  I really wanted to look as Mormon as possible (whatever that means_.  I shaved and combed my hair nicely and wore a Sunday shirt, tie, slacks, and dress shoes.  I also brought a jacket, but ended up not wearing it because it was so hot.  That was a good move on my part.

I also brought my scripture case, but took my scriptures out and instead filled it with some sunblock (which I applied three different times and still got a bit red – I think it was 95 degrees), water (ah, sweet water!), a book to read while I waited, my camera, wallet, checkbook, iPod, and eyeglasses case.

We had been told to meet on the corner of 400 E. and 300 S., which was a block from where I parked.  I recognized my group right away: a nice gaggle of finely-dressed, but typically-styled Mormons.  I introduced myself and received a list of instructions.  Basically, the group was really careful not to identify itself as a political group or associate itself in any official capacity with the LDS Church.  The purpose of the group was simply to show love and support, not to advocate a political position or parse doctrine.  The instructions said to keep moving while marching; to not talk with media during the parade because we didn’t want them slowing us down.  If approached by the media, we were simply to tell our own story and why we, personally, we’re marching.  We were to stay away from arguments or speculation on official LDS policy.  We were told if there was any antagonism from anybody in the crowd to not engage them.  And, mostly, we were told to spread love and have fun.

As I hung with the crowd of Mormons, I did get the feeling that there were some in the crowd, understandably so since they had never marched in a Gay Pride parade before, who thought there would be some gay people who would treat them in a less than favorable manner because of Mormons’ history with the gay movement.  I myself did not feel that way.  I’ve known enough gay people to know that our group would likely be treated respectfully.

The organizers of the parade were happy to have us, and the Grand-Marshall of the parade, Oscar-winning screenwriter Dustin Lance Black (who himself is gay and grew up Mormon and won his Oscar for the screenplay of the movie, Milk about gay-rights activist Harvey Milk) specifically asked that our group be put right behind him, thus making us the second group in the parade.

Actually, shortly before the parade began, Troy Williams and Dustin Lance Black came and chatted with us and Dustin got his photo taken with our group, and I got my photo taken with him.  I found him incredibly kind and supportive.  In interviews I’ve seen him do, I’ve found him to be somewhat of a bridge builder himself. 

We waited in the hot sun for about an hour before the parade got under way.  I didn’t know anyone there except a couple from my mom's ward and their daughter.  It was a friendly group of people, though.

We had been offered signs to hold such as “God Is Love,” “I’ll walk with you, I’ll talk with you, that’s how I’ll show my love for you,” “Jesus said love everyone, treat them kindly, too..,” “Love thy neighbor as thyself,” “LDS ♥ LGBT,” etc.  I didn’t feel like holding a sign for the whole parade, though, so I passed.   

Before we even started the parade, we had several people come up to us and thank us for marching.  People said how honored they were to have us; told us how happy they were that we were marching; and we even had a group of male cheerleaders cheer us for our efforts.  People were so touched that we were marching.

I loved the sight of a couple of Mormons, dressed in their Sunday best, posing with the boys from the Queer Utah Aquatic Club, who were wearing just bow ties and Speedos. 

  Or the Mormon woman with her arms around a guy in drag.  I just thought, “This is how it ought to be.”  Just people loving and supporting one another.

Since we were at the beginning of the parade, we were asked by the Utah Pride Interfaith Coalition  if we might help them carry the giant rainbow flag at the end of the parade.  I decided I probably would.

Five minutes before we began marching, Erika asked us to sing “Love One Another” together.  Singing those familiar words with this group of Mormons made me feel the Spirit so much.  “As I have loved you / love one another / this new commandment / love another / by this shall men know / ye are my disciples/ if ye have love / one to another.”  I’ve sung those words practically all my life – as a child in primary and in countless meetings – and yet they struck me with a truth and meaning that hit me in a way that was so strong and profound: that is what we are commanded to do – love one another.  God is all about love, above everything else.  The first and greatest commandment is to love Him with all our mind, might, and soul, and the second is to love our fellow man.  It seems to me that anything that isn’t about love is not of God.  Judgment, fear, hate – these are not what God is about.

A very nice prayer was given.  I wish I could remember all the words because it was really good, but the main message was about love – the love this Mormon group wanted to convey and the love with which they hoped it would be received.  During the whole parade I felt such a spirit of love, and I thought to myself, “Of course the Spirit is testifying…because there is such a spirit of unity and love here, and that’s what God is about.”  And I felt sad that there are so many who are too self-righteous or ignorant to even think of attending a Gay Pride event and felt sorry that they were missing this powerful feeling of love and closeness that was present.

We had been told to put a fairly good-sized between us and Dustin Lance Black’s car, but Troy Williams, who was driving, kept stopping, and finally a parade organizer told us that Dustin Lance Black wanted our group closer to him.  As we got closer, he kept pointing at us and smiling at the fact that we were there and encouraging the crowd the cheer for the group.  I think in his eyes we symbolized the very bridge we are trying to build and wanted the crowd to support that.

We received such an outpouring of love.  I saw so many people crying.  I know there were many in the crowd who grew up in the Mormon faith and have been deeply hurt, and I think this group represented something maybe they longed for but never received or something they longed to see but never thought they would.  One lady came out of the crowd weeping and just kept saying, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”  The lady who was doing the commentary for the parade was brought to tears.  

A little boy walked a few steps in front of us, and I don’t think he realized he had gotten ahead of the group.  He was carrying a little satchel and held his fingers together to make a heart.  It was beautiful.

While many around me whooped and hollered, both in the crowd of spectators and in our group, I was mostly quiet.  I thought about how far I’ve come in my life.  Ten years ago I never would have imagined marching in a Gay Pride parade.  I never could have imagined how incredibly happy I could be in my life, with myself, with a significant other, and with my Father in Heaven.  But I was so proud to be who I am, so happy and fulfilled, and that’s what I think Pride is all about – being happy and proud of who you are.  I think there are a lot of damaged people in the world.  Their experiences and backgrounds and upbringings and social interactions have caused them to feel “less than,” and that isn’t what God is all about, in my opinion.  If I could wish anything for my fellow man, it is that he (or she) could feel the kind of contentedness and fulfillment and love that I felt today.  I belonged there today.

                     Yes, I am in this photo.  It's like "Where's Waldo," but harder.

Another thought I had was that while I thought it was great that this group of Mormons was marching to support gay people and while I was equally grateful that many in the gay community was so grateful we were there, I also thought it unfortunate that it was considered so momentous that  we were there; that it was such a pleasant surprise we were there.  I thought, “Shouldn’t we as Christians “be there” anyway?  Isn’t that our job?  Why is it such a rarity to show love and support to the disenfranchised?  Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing anyway?”

The crowd was so responsive and welcoming.  After we finished walking the seven blocks we walked and finished the parade route, I walked back to our starting point.  It was so, so hot, and I was tired.  I wasn’t sure I could handle walking the same route again holding the rainbow flag.  But I just felt compelled to do so.  I had time to go to my car and remove my tie, ditch the scripture case, which had gotten heavy, and change from dress shoes to tennis shoes.  

The flag was about 300 feet long (about half a block long).  It was massive, and when we began, there weren’t as many of us, so it felt heavier.  The older lady behind me was struggling a bit.  People would throw money into the flag, which I guess goes to the Interfaith Coalition.  We would ask spectators to join us, and by the end there were actually so many that it was hard to walk without tripping on the person in front of you.  The wind blew a couple of dollars off the flag, and I went to retrieve them a block before we stopped, so after giving the money to one of the Interfaith guys, I ducked out because it was too hard to get my place back, and besides, that flag was heavy.  I had been bracing it on my shoulder, which had started to hurt.  It was all worth it, though, and was a nice lesson in unity.

I made the long trek back to my car and grabbed an egg-salad sandwich and a cold water from 7-11 on my way.  I was amazed at how quickly the line moved for as many people as there were in line. I estimate with my double parade duty as well as walking to my car and back to the Pride Festival, I probably walked about 4.5 miles today.  My knees, hips, and feet were feeling it, too.  I also made the mistake of wearing low-rise briefs under my slacks, which caused some chaffing, so that was no good.

After my second parade walk, I walked over to the Pride Festival on the way struck up a conversation with a newly-relocated woman who had moved here from South Carolina.  She said she was so impressed with the LGBT community here.  I guess in South Carolina, where she was from, it was very homophobic.  She said they never would have anything like our Pride celebration there.

Eventually we reached the Pride Festival and we said our adieus.  One of the most touching things about Pride to me is seeing gay and lesbian couples holding hands.  It’s just so normal, which exactly what it should be.  Outside the walls of Pride, perhaps we would be accused of “flaunting our sexuality,” but inside it was just as normal and accepted and taken for granted as it would be in the regular world with straight people.  I thought, “I wish it could just be like this.”  Because that’s all it is; it’s two people simply expressing their love for each other.  Wouldn’t it be great to just hold hands or kiss and not worry about what anybody else thinks or know that people wouldn’t care?

Before the performance I sat down on a bench because I was exhausted.  The man next to me asked if I was a hugger.  I said I was, so he just gave me a hug.  It was nice. 

After I finished walking around the festival, I left and went home.  I told Mom about my day and then called Jonah and told him.  My only regret of the day was that we weren't together to share it.  It really was a terrific day and, quite frankly, more than I think I would have gotten out of going to church.  It was like we were living what we preach in church instead of just preaching it, and I liked that.

Mormons Building Bridges made national news.  I felt a little disingenuous because several news groups reported that our group was comprised of straight active members of the Church, and since I’m neither straight nor a member anymore, I hoped that it wouldn’t reflect badly on the group.  It’s not like I was being duplicitous.  I was, after all, invited to march, and like I say, I felt I belonged.  I just didn't want to create any controversy about the group, if that makes sense.

The group was originally slated at about 160, but we ended up having over 300, I believe, which I think surprised a lot of people.  It was fun to read comments from people who had marched in our group, most of who carried similar sentiments: how amazing it was, what an honor it was, what a spiritual experience it was, how they’ll never forget it, how it was one of the greatest things they’d ever done, how they want to do it again, an outpouring of gratitude from participants and spectators alike, etc.  Some of my favorite comments were: “I can only hope the love we were trying so desperatly to show was as clear to them as the love they showed us.”

From a spectator: “As a gay returned missionary, it literally brought tears to my eyes as you all walked by, and all I could do was make the ASL sign for ‘I love you’ as I stood there feeling your love for your fellow Saints.”

“Hearing about Mormons Building Bridges and being able to participate in the parade today was one of those sweet ‘tender mercies’ in my life...an experience not to be forgotten!”

“As a mother of a gay son and a straight one, it was the most wonderful experience of my life and so healing to be a part of the parade today!”

“I witnessed a miracle today. Thank you, Brothers and Sisters, for Building Bridges of Understanding.”

“Possibly one of the most spiritual experiences of my life.”

This from Mitch Mayne: “Sitting here in San Francisco, bawling my eyes out. The texts I've been getting, the photos, the updates--I don't remember the last time I've been this proud to be a Mormon.”

Another spectator: “As a returned missionary who hasn't regularly been to church in close to a decade, I went to the Pride Parade a little defensively, knowing y'all would be marching and not knowing what to expect. So what did I feel when I saw everyone go by and heard the loudest applause for the longest time? The love of Jesus. That's it, just Love.”

“As I reflected on the parade, and my entire day... knowing that this was not my ‘typical’ Sabbath Day... I contemplated on whether or not my day was as enriched as a typical day, going to my regular services. What I came up with was eye-opening to me. 

“While walking with the Mormons Building Bridges group, I saw one of my best friends, a gentleman that I've known for over 20 years, and that recently came to terms with his own sexuality. As a returned missionary, I know that he has been through a decades long struggle with exactly who he is, and I have seen a positive light come into his life, as we came to accept who he is. When I first saw my friend, he hadn't seen me, but was simply standing there with tears streaming down his face. THAT moment will be forever etched into my mind. I went up to him and we engaged in one of the most loving embraces that I've ever been part of. The beauty of this moment was not so much that it was a precious, loving moment... but, that it was happening all along the parade route.”

Another spectator: “I want to thank everyone who marched today. Seeing you all this morning was incredible. I wept uncontrollably. And the few women at the back of the group that came up and hugged me helped heal some very deep wounds. I love you all so much. Thank you for standing with me, for embracing me.”

                Here are some comments from Troy Williams and one of the participants, Marion Jensen, as well as some news stories.

              Isn't that what it's all about, people?

Mom Goes On Another Adventure

 I'm not sure how my blog has managed to evolve (or devolve, depending on how you look at it) from a blog about my life as a gay LDS actor into a blog about my life as an excommunicated gay LDS actor to a blog about my Mom's dementia, but it seems to be that way today.

Just after writing my most recent post last night about my mom's deteriorating mental state, she once again kept us on our toes when she went missing this morning.  I guess she had made an appointment with her hairdresser this morning.  I would gladly have taken her if I had known about it.  When I woke up, there was a note on the back door from Mom telling me she had gone to the hairdresser.  Normally, this wouldn't seem like a big deal.  I think Mom has been going to the same hairdresser for 40+ years now, and her home (where her salon is) is not terribly far from my mom's.  Mom has been there hundreds of times and has often walked over there.

Yet there was a nagging feeling in my gut that made me think I ought to go over to the hairdresser's neighborhood to pick Mom up.  Before I could, my sister arrived.  I told her where Mom was, and she asked if she should go pick her up.  I said it was probably a good idea, and since I had to go to work pretty soon, I decided my sister could just pick Mom up.  But when my sister called the hairdresser, she informed my sister that Mom had never shown up.

My niece, nephew-in-law, sister, and I all went looking for her.  I called work and told them I'd be late and we individually searched for Mom (in the hairdresser's neighborhood, in my mom's, and in places that she frequents often).  Some of my mom's neighbors got involved as well.  No luck.  Mom was nowhere to be found.  Because Mom's sense of direction has always been awful and has been even worse since her dementia has taken hold, she literally could have gone any direction thinking it was the right way to go, so we had no idea where she might be.

After no luck finding her, we decided maybe we ought to call the police.  My sister said she would so and told me to get to work.  Strangely, I wasn't worried.  It's not the first time Mom has gotten lost, and it was almost like, "Figures," rather than "Oh, my gosh, where could she be?!"

By the time I got to work, my nephew-in-law informed me that Mom had returned home.  From what I can glean, Mom headed over to the hairdresser's and either couldn't locate her house or couldn't figure out how to enter her salon.  Never mind that Mom has been going there for years.  That silly dementia sure wreaks its havoc on a once sharp mind.

Mom then wandered elsewhere.  We're not sure where nor is she.  We think she was in a business area rather than a residential area because she came upon a drinking fountain.  She also said she might have been in Taylorsville (which is possible; Mom lives in Midvale, but Taylorsville is not beyond the realm of possibility).  Wherever she was, a kind couple sensed she was lost when she asked the man how to get to State Street.  When he asked her where she lived, she said, "Midvale," he told her he'd better drive her, so I'm guessing she was not close.  He actually was driving that way anyway and dropped her off at the house.  My sister was on the phone with the police when she came back, so I guess all ended well.

When I talked to Mom about it, she remembered it and admitted she was lost rather than trying to downplay it.  It gave us a good chance to take about her memory problems and our concerns for her well-being.  Mom said she sometimes does "idiotic" things.  I said, "Don't say that.  It has nothing to do with idiocy or stupidity, Mom.  Dementia is a disease just like diabetes or heart disease, and you have it.  It's not your fault; it's just what the disease does to your mind.  But you can understand why we might be concerned about you?"

I don't know how much I got through to her or how much one really can get through to her, but it at least gave us the opportunity to talk seriously about her issues.  It can be exciting and stressful having a parent with dementia.  More excitement than I wanted today.

Bob and Irma and Mom

I've written about a particular ward member in my mom's ward (the ward I grew up in) before here, here, and here, among other posts.  I detail much of my experience with him in the first link.  In any case, I've never thought of him as a particularly hateful or mean-spirited individual; just one who seems trapped in a past where chauvinism, racism, and homophobia were more accepted and normal.  I would certainly not describe this brother as progressive.  He is old-fashioned and ignorant; a man who seems incapable of progressing with the times.  If he lived in the 50s, he'd probably be right at home.

In spite of being "stuck in time," there is much to admire about this brother.  He is a much harder worker than I've ever been in my life.  Although he can be a busy-body, he has always been there to serve when someone needs help.  He tries to help his neighbors, and although his efforts are sometimes unwelcome, I think he has good intentions.  He has always been enthusiastic about the gospel and has a strong testimony about what he believes.  And while his attitudes towards women are sometimes old-fashioned and even chauvinistic, at the same time I admire his devotion to his wife, who has seemed just as content to be stuck in the 1950s as he is.

I don't think I've ever given this couple pseudonyms in my blog, but for clarity's sake let's call them Bob and Irma.  Irma has had some form of dementia for some time now.  I don't know whether it's Alzheimer's or what, but she has not been mentally well for some years now.  I find it mildly amusing when my mom goes on about how "Irma has really gone downhill," or "Irma's really losing it," and yet fails to recognize that ten years from now she could very likely be Irma herself.

In church on Sunday I looked behind me and stared at Irma before Sacrament Meeting started.  She was a sharp woman once, and as I gazed at her she seemed a shell of who she once was; a woman lost inside of herself; a woman who doesn't readily recognize anybody anymore and barely talks.  It made me sad not just because Irma as I once knew her is pretty much gone, but more so because I thought to myself, "That's what my family probably has to look forward to in the next few years with my own mom."  It was a depressing thought.

What I have found admirable is how well Bob, who's not exactly in terrific health himself, has taken care of Irma.  Bob doesn't strike me as a particularly patient man, but I know he loves his wife terribly, and to his credit, he has taken care of her these last few years when I'm sure it's been a challenge.

Today I learned that Irma had to go to the hospital yesterday, possibly because of a stroke (details aren't clear yet), and today she was taken to a care center, I believe.  Whether it's a permanent facility is not clear to me yet, but I would not be surprised if it was.  Frankly, I have been astounded that Irma has been able to live at home as long as she has.  She's not been well, and I'm sure she's been hard to care for.  And Bob, who is pretty feeble himself, has been doing the majority of the care, as far as I can tell, and I'm amazed he has been able to do it this long.

When I heard Irma was being moved to a care facility, my heart ached for Bob, a man I have admittedly had issues with in the past.  That man adores his wife, and I think not having her permanent companionship, no matter how challenging it has been these past years, will surely be devastating to him.  I know he will feel a deep loss over her not being in the house and over the fact that he cannot care for her on his own anymore.  I think caring for her has actually been a driving force in his life as she's continued to get worse, and I almost wonder if he'll feel a loss of purpose.  Of course, I can't speak or think for Bob, but that's how I perceive it.

My own mother, who is not in the kind of shape Irma is in and who is still relatively healthy and independent, is becoming more challenging to care for, and I think she could easily be headed down the same path Irma has taken.

My siblings and I had a meeting with Mom about a month ago to talk frankly with her about our worries and to voice our concerns about her deteriorating mental health.  While I still don't think she recognizes the full impact of the issues, I do think it was good to have the meeting.  I do think she was more receptive to our concerns than I imagined she would be, and she responded more positively than I thought she would.

We also had a meeting with a senior care advisor (without Mom) who gave us some resources and advice to help us deal with Mom's issues better.

While it's still a challenge, I do feel that Mom is recognizing some of her limitations and realizing that she does require more help than she might want to admit she needs.  That doesn't change the fact that sometimes her memory issues, judgment, and awareness keep us on our toes and, more likely than not, will eventually require more help than we are able to provide her ourselves.

In the meantime, she can still do much on her own, and I try to give her as much independence as I feel I can safely give.  It is often like caring for a child, though.  Mom isn't a child, of course, but some of her decisions are not always the best, sometimes she's very unaware of what''s going on around her, and her forgetfulness does cause some problems.  It can also be very wearing to care for her at times.  In her old age, she has become more needy, gets more easily agitated and depressed, and sometimes makes unwise choices that could adversely affect her health and well-being.

My siblings call me the "golden child" because I seem to be the favorite son; the one who can get her to do things she doesn't necessarily want to do.  When I'm away from Jonah and here with Mom, I become the primary caregiver, and it can be exhausting at times.

Mom is also a type 2 diabetic, and it is a great challenge getting her to eat properly or, sometimes, eat at all.  She loves her treats and will often by boxes of cookies or chocolate bars or ice cream or Diet Coke, and instead of eating more healthy fare, she will sometimes subsist on her goodies.  Especially since her doctor wonders if her mental issues might be related to her high blood sugar, we are trying to get her to keep her blood sugar in the low-100 area, and there hasn't been a day since I've been back in Utah when her blood sugar was lower than 206.

Mom is very stubborn, and reasoning with her about her high blood sugar often feels fruitless.  Also, there are times when Mom is alone at home, and we can't steer her in a more healthy direction if we're not there to witness what she eats.  Also, there is a part of me that just feels like the fight is not worth having; that I'd rather she just enjoy what she eats while she's still alive to eat it.

Mom used to be so good at doing routine things.  She used to pay her bills online, check her email, take her pills regularly, check her blood sugar, set and disarm her burglar alarm, etc.  She's forgotten that she even used to pay bills online and doesn't remember how to do it; she can't remember how to set or disarm the alarm; she hasn't checked her email in months (not that she gets much in the way of email anyway); she constantly has to be reminded to check her blood sugar; and sometimes she forgets her pills until I remind her (and even then she believes she's taken them - fortunately we have a handy pill box that helps her realize she's wrong).  She's still good about paying bills, but I know there will come a time when someone will have to do it.  She easily misplaces mail if she's not careful.

Mom's judgment is not always the best, and we don't trust her to do as much on her own as we once did.  She used to make breakfast for herself every day (usually cheese and eggs), but doesn't anymore.  I don't know if she's forgotten how or what.  Now she just eats a couple of yogurts, which isn't necessarily as good for her sugar levels.  If we don't actively make her eat it, she often skips dinner entirely.  She forgets healthy food is in the fridge and often eats junk food.  Because she has forgotten how to use debit card machines, she will often withdraw large amounts of cash from the bank and carry it in her purse.  Sometimes she makes withdrawals several times in a span of a couple of weeks because she has forgotten she already did so.  I've actually gone into her purse and re-deposited cash she withdrew because I don't feel it is safe to carry that much cash (and she doesn't notice anyway).

For a while, she was donating to every charity on the planet and actually ended up giving her credit card number to some company that ended up charging quite a bit of money to various charities on her behalf.  Fortunately, we put her on a do-not-call and do-not-mail list and when people call her number now, it declares it as a "no solicitor" number, and I've noticed a decrease in the calls and mail she gets.  It sounds terrible, but I actually go through my mom's mail and throw away all the junk and solicitations before giving it to her (or if she gets it first, I throw them away after because she doesn't remember).  I certainly don't mind my mom giving to charity, and it's her money to give, but it was getting out of hand, and the mom from five or six years ago would not approve of how reckless the mom now is being with her money.  And the fact is, if we ever do need to put Mom in a home, it is her money that will first be used to pay for it, so we want to make sure her accounts remain solid.

One of the things that is hardest for me personally is that it's just hard to see my mom's memory and personality deteriorate.  She is so easily agitated by insignificant things that never would have bothered her previously.  She misremembers things.  For example, she keeps telling us her dad died when she was 16 (not true).  Or she forgets huge chunks of her past.  She has no recollection at all of a job she held for about two and a half years and she doesn't remember my getting excommunicated, although she is fully cognizant of the fact that I am gay and have a partner.  She repeats the same questions and phrases over and over and over again, which isn't her fault, but it does get tiring.  I guess that's another thing I really miss; Mom and I used to have such thought-provoking and interesting conversations.  I don't feel like I can really talk to her about very deep things anymore, and even if I do, she forgets it minutes later.  We used to be able to talk about books and movies, for example, and now she just can't retain or expound on anything.  She gets so lonely and bored and just wants company.  I play Scrabble with her (she can still do that) and go out to eat with her, which she loves (and which gives me a chance to gear her toward something more healthy).  One of our favorite games used to be Trivial Pursuit.  She just can't play it anymore.  She can't remember anything.

If I ask her where she wants to eat, she always makes me choose, and I know it's because she can't remember the name of any restaurants.  Whenever she's watching a movie, she can never tell me what it is even if it's a movie I know she's seen numerous times.  She just can't remember.

She sometimes can't readily identify people she knows in photographs, particularly if they were taken a while ago.  There are people she's known for years whose names she can no longer remember.  She gets lost and disoriented very easily.  The other day we walked to a nearby restaurant and when we left to go home, she asked where the car was.  I told her we had walked, and she couldn't remember doing so.  About  a week ago, she told me my niece was sleeping downstairs, and I said that our niece wasn't home and that she was at work.  Mom went downstairs and came back up and said she was sleeping on the bed.  When I went down, there was no one on the bed because my niece, in fact, wasn't home.  Mom insisted she had just seen her, and that if she wasn't there, she must have slipped out while we weren't looking, but that was not possible, and my niece's car had been gone the whole time.

The other day, Mom was upset at my nephew-in-law for cutting down her bush (which wasn't a bush at all, but some foliage growing out of an old stump).  Apparently she cried about it, but had completely forgotten about it by the time I got home.  Two years ago, Mom would have been delighted that someone was cutting down all overgrown brush.

Mom also has very vivid dreams.  When Jonah was in town, we had been eating and talking in the kitchen for about an hour and a half.  At midnight we headed for bed.  My mom's room is right off of mine, and we heard her door squeak open shortly after midnight (a time when my mom is not known to be up) and heard her shuffle down the hall.  When I opened my bedroom door, it was pitch black, but I went to the kitchen and turned on the light.  Mom was fully dressed and wearing a winter coat and had her purse (but no eyeglasses, which she needs to see) and was just about headed out the back door when I calmly asked her where she was going.

She said, "I have to go pick the kid up."

"What kid?" I asked.  It was clear to me that she had been dreaming and was still half asleep.

She looked confused and said, "I have to pick up...  Well, I don't know, but I have to pick the kid up."

I said, "Why do you have to pick this kid up?"

She furrowed her brow and said, "I think I'm supposed to take him to a baptism."

I said, "I think you've been dreaming, Mom."

"No," she insisted.  "Somebody just called me on the phone and I'm supposed to pick him up."

I said, "Mom, Jonah and I have been here for an hour and a half and the phone hasn't rung.  I think you had a dream.  It's midnight, you know."

"I know," she said, "but someone just called."

"Okay," I said, playing the game.  "Who are you supposed to pick up?"

"I don't know," she responded.

"Then how are you going to pick them up if you don't know who they are?"

"I don't know; I just know I'm supposed to pick them up."

"How will you pick them up?" I asked.

"I'm going to drive my car," Mom answered.

"Mom, you don't have a license anymore, remember."

Suddenly, something got through.  She looked at me in wonderment.  "That's right, I don't."  She thought a moment more.  "I don't even have keys to the car anymore."

"That's right, you don't.  And you're not wearing glasses, either.  How would you have driven without those."

She looked at me, finally understanding.  "I think you're right.  I think I was dreaming."

"Yep."

One last look at me, as if to make sure.  "And no one called on the phone?"

"Nope."

"I think I was dreaming."  Now she was convincing herself.

"I think we should get you back to bed."

"It seemed so real."

"I'm sure it did," I said, following her back to her room.

"I'm so glad you stopped me, " she said.  "Where would I have gone if you hadn't stopped me?"

My thoughts exactly.  "I don't know, Mom."

"Where would I have gone?" she asked incredulously.

"I don't know," I said with concern.  "But this is exactly the kind of stuff we worry about, Mom."

The good thing is I did stop her... this time (and fortunately, the alarm was set and she would have triggered it), and in retrospect, the event was kind of humorous.  But it also gave us the opportunity to talk more about the issues that concern my siblings and me.  And Mom did remember the whole thing the next day and hasn't forgotten it as of yet, so that's good.

But she has gotten lost and wandered off, and with how easily disoriented she gets, it is something that concerns us.  Thus far, she still seems to be able to walk to several places on her own without any trouble, but there are also places that were once familiar to her that she cannot remember how to get to or where they are.

It's sad and hard to watch, and it makes me sad to think what the future may hold.  I love and adore my mom, but I would be lying if I didn't say that it's very challenging at times.  It is a challenge; one I am trying to deal with with optimism and a sense of humor.  That's really all I can do. 

"I'll Take It."

 

Well, Barack Obama's proclamation of his support for gay marriage is old news, and my reaction is not as fresh as it was when he made his announcement, but I did want to write how I felt about it.

After Joe Biden's interview where he voiced his support for gay marriage, and then the White House spun its wheels in response, I found myself thinking, "Do I prefer a president who supports gay marriage but is waiting until reelection to publicly avow it so that he has more leverage to do something about it or do I prefer a president who has the integrity to publicly support what he actually believes even if it possibly endangers his chances for reelection."

Once I heard President Obama's remarks on gay marriage, I realized I preferred the latter.  Now when he came out in favor of gay marriage, I had several friends, some of them gay, who said his hand was forced by Biden and that he should have declared his support for gay marriage earlier in his administration when he had more of a majority in Congress.  Some speculated that it was simply a campaign ploy to get more votes suggesting that, after all, those who are against gay marriage are probably not in Obama's corner anyway.

My response, echoing the response of another gay friend, is that, whatever Obama's reasons,  "I'll take it."  I suspect that Obama has privately supported gay marriage for a while.  I do think Biden's statement probably pushed him to make an announcement he was going to make anyway, only perhaps sooner than he intended.  I do think his statement is probably both a mixture of political and genuine.  But this issue is still a very polarizing one, and the fact is that Obama is the first and only sitting  president thus far to publicly declare his support for gay marriage, and I think that deserves some respect.  I also think it's a brave thing to do even if it is partly political.  And because gay marriage and equal rights is an issue I care very much about and which affects me, I am proud to have a president who stands behind me.

The fact is, President Obama alone doesn't have much power to directly change the laws that govern whether gay people can be legally married.  Judges, legislators, senators, and voters have more power than he does on this issue, I think.  But I do think that such a high-profile figure coming out in favor of it does have an effect on others.

I've said many times in my blog that I think equal rights for gays is just a rolling stone that can't be stopped.  Whether or not Barack Obama is re-elected (and I hope he is; I find Romney artificial, out-of-touch, and untrustworthy, not to mention the fact that his politics (today at least; who knows what he'll profess tomorrow) are not at all in line with my own), I'm glad that he (Obama) will be on the right side of history as far as gay rights is concerned.  The reasons he supports gay marriage aren't even as important to me as the fact that he supports it, period.

I think this is an exciting time for the gay rights movement.  We are watching history unfold, and eventually we will have the same rights our heterosexual counterparts have.  I don't know when, but we will.  I guarantee it.  It's exciting (and sometimes frustrating and other times gratifying) to watch the fight for equality.  It will be interesting when history shows who was on which side.

Pride, And Where I've Been

It's almost been a full month since I last wrote.  Sorry about that.  I've wanted to write, but life has just gotten very, very busy of late.  I was in rehearsals for one show and then started rehearsals for another while still doing performances for the first one.  Jonah came to town to visit.  Caring for and spending time with my mom has taken some time as well.  I've also felt more tired lately and have also been spending less time on line and more time reading books, which has been nice.

I've kept a list of things I would like to blog about including my thoughts on President Obama's support of gay marriage; more thoughts about my mom's dementia and how it is affecting me; a Richard Dutcher movie I saw called Falling; what Jonah and I experienced on Temple Square while waiting for my newly married nephew and his bride; thoughts on the musical Man of La Mancha; thoughts on a favorite movie, Dead Poets' Society; my niece's baptism; and thoughts on missionaries, among others.

So I've got some posts coming up the pike, hopefully.  I'm not sure when I will be able to post all these wonderful ideas, but I would certainly like to.

There are some things I would like to post about my career, but I fear some of them are a little to personal, and the fact that some of my work colleagues know about my blog, I don't feel comfortable discussing some of those things so publicly, so those may just have to be for my journal.

Today, however, I would like to post about the upcoming Gay Pride Day here in Utah.  I'm not one who typically attends Pride, although I am certainly out and proud to be the gay individual I am.  I went to church instead of Pride last year, and this is what I experienced.  You may want to read the link before continuing.

Although I only wrote about the experience and not how it related to skipping Pride, I did not miss the irony that if I had skipped church and gone to Pride last year, not only would I have been surrounded by a bunch of people who would have loved me and accepted me for who I am, but I would have missed hearing the sanctimonious and hurtful comments of a couple of annoying church members.

I'm not making the same mistake this year.  I still enjoy church, but I am going to Pride this year.  I'm also marching in the parade this year.  I actually have a dilemma, though.  My work would like me to march with them, but I am also very interested in marching with the Mormons Building Bridges group, whose invitation is below:

Please come join Latter-day Saints in extending a message of love and support to our LGBT brothers and sisters by marching in the Utah pride parade. Each step we take will be an outward demonstration of our commitment to loving our neighbors. We are marching for the values of empathy and compassion that the Mormon faith teaches. Recognizing that silence (though coupled with good intentions) may leave some LGBT individuals to seriously question their self-worth in their homes, congregations, and before God, we are marching to save lives.

We will start lining up on 400 East between 300 and 400 South starting at 8 am. Please arrive no later than 8:30 am. The parade doesn't start till 10 am but the Pride Center folks have been so accommodating in moving us to the #1 position behind the grand marsall, we want to give them plenty of time to manage our big group.

Please check the weather report and within the parameters below, dress accordingly.Bring your own food and drink with you.

We will be marching in CHURCH ATTIRE (and walking shoes). This will send a powerful message. Particularly we hope fellow church-going Mormons will see us and think "gee they're just like me, maybe now I can stand up for LGBT people in my own congregation".

Please consider making a sign to carry with you. A list of approved messaging for the signs can be found in the "Files" section of the MBB Facebook page. Please only bring signs with approved messaging.

MBB will provide rainbow flags for those who'd like to march with them. MBB will also provide suckers with the phrase "love one another" printed on them to hand out along the parade route.

This march is not a political gesture, rather it is a simple statement that average Mormons do love their LGBT brothers and sisters and want to make that message clear. All who wish to march whether currently active LDS and/or former LDS are welcome. Please feel free to invite all like-minded friends to join the march. Thank you for being willing to stand up and build bridges of love and understanding. 

I haven't decided which group I want to march with.  For some reason, it feels more important and meaningful to me personally to march with the Mormons Building Bridges group than it does to march with my employer, but I also don't want my employer and fellow co-workers (who are also friends) to feel snubbed.  I haven't decided what I'm doing yet, but I will be attending Pride.  It feels like the right and necessary thing to do this year.

A fellow member from my Mom's ward who knows I'm gay said she would be marching in the group.  That meant a lot to me for her to reach out like that.

Anyway, I just wanted you all to know that I'm still alive, still have things to say, and hopefully can blog about them in the near future.