Friday, June 3, 2011

Kitten Update!

The Kittens are a four weeks old, and their eyes are open, they are beginning to sit up and wobble around in their box. And they are utterly adorable. 

Dreamweaver holding Maya...

 Maya

 Dante

 Dante or "Why did you wake me up for this?"

 Amergin

 Amergin in the foreground, then Dante, and behind that Rosetti (who is becoming known as "Rosie"

 Rossetti ("Rosie"

 Audre

Dante and Amergin

Thursday, May 19, 2011

One plus One plus One, or...Its OK to be Takei!







A bill pending in Tennessee will make it illegal to mention Homosexuality in the schools. George Takei of Star Trek fame has started a campaign against this with the catch phrase "Its OK to be Takei", playing off his coming Out (quite awhile ago) as Gay, the idea its OK to be Gay and his name. He has merchandise for sale to back it, and profits go to charity - you HAVE to go look, HERE, NOW!!!

The image of the famous Star Trek logo in rainbow pride colors with the words "Its OK to be Takei" is picking up speed and going viral - I am seeing it all over FaceBook! Its already on other blogs...Rachel Maddow has talked about it!

What makes this so exciting for me is that one of my best friends here in town DESIGNED the logo (I saw several incarnations of it as she fiddled with it, until she got the one she wanted!) and then, on advice from two of her friends, she sent the logo to George Takei for the fun of it. To her shock and surprise, he wrote her back and jumped on it!!! She immediately gave him permission to use the design, on condition of remaining anonymous and that she would receive no proceeds - she designed it as an activist and chose not to profit from it! So, dang it, I can't tell you her name! 

But I bring her up - and she is probably going to smack me when she reads this - I bring her up because I think she has another message to share. She pointed out that she created the design when she heard about the legislation in Tennessee, another friend posted a tweet about it and then said "make a button", and then another friend said " send it to Takei", and so she did...and now its EVERY WHERE! 

So now when people say that they feel that they can't do anything to make a difference because they're just one person, she can point out that  "me = one person + one of my friends who = one person + one of my other friends who = one person + George Takei = famous but still just 1 person..." 
So I bring up her part in this to make a point...

One person can make a difference. And that one person can be each and every one of us!!!


I think that what my friends and George Takei have accomplished is not JUST one FANTASTIC activist movement, but also that they have a second message - that each of ONE of us CAN make a difference, and that we make that difference in community as well as individually! So as you look at all the crazy legislation and homophobic slurs and hate pickets, don't become discouraged and think that there is nothing you can do, because you are just one person....each and every one of us may be one drop of water, but oceans are filled one drop at a time as the drops all join together!

Activism works! 
One by one and in community!
And all of us can spread it ever day!

1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1  + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1...

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Meet Our New Family!


 Our calico cat, Lucy had kittens last night - we haven't had any newborns in years, as we are trying to bring our cat population down to something sane - however a much older female cat evidently had one heat left, and we had one unfixed male left - do the math; May/December romance! *snort*. We weren't financially in a position to deal with getting them fixed, and they did what came naturally, of course....I have to say that as much as I didn't want more cats, there is a part of me that's going "Yay, Kittens!" Cyn and I are so soft hearted! LOL! 
This particular cat has never had kittens that survived well, so I don't know how this is going to go - we will love them while we have them and so far they appear very healthy! Last night there was  one tiny scrap of orange nursing, and that was all I could  see - she was being very shy and defensive, so I did not upset her yet by digging around in her basket under our altar initially. So I went and checked again, and we were up to 2, possibly 3, but it was hard to tell. 
And there was a lot of meeping coming out of that basket! 
Then a bit later, and by now at about 1:00 am in the morning, I checked again - four kittens, happily nursing. All good. I did some more stuff on the computer. Decided to make sure everybody was OK on my way to bed, and discovered...
That we had FIVE kittens!!! FIVE!  0.0
Cyn was asleep of course, but I had let her know earlier that Lucy had gone into labor and I would stay up with them. Cyn has to get up at 4:00 AM, so I was only going to awake her if we had an emergency. So I went on to bed, after the last one - really the last one - was born and everyone appeared healthy. I climbed into bed and Cyn mumbled something that sounded like ...mgyhrkittensmfr???" So I said, "She had five." 
Cyn: "nfethasni-FIVE!?!?" It was priceless. I am still giggling! 
So...we have a little dark tabby boy, a little orange boy, two dark calico girls who look like twins, and a softer orange girl. We will have names for them shortly, as personalities and names suggest themselves to us. 
I must add a note about the proud papa - Firedancer II....he is a young orange cat who is very CAT...he is aloof, dignified, and has an intense case of cupboard love for us - we feed him. He was curled up with Lucy in the basket at the beginning of the night, but she finally got irate and tossed him out, where upon he curled up on the floor next to the basket and stayed there all night long. Now he goes over constantly and sticks his head over the edge of the basket and checks on Lucy and the Kittens. He appears to be quite cogent of the fact that these are his offspring too, and is very interested.
So life will be interesting around here as they grow and start venturing forth from their basket over time. I am going to keep a run of posts going on the family's progress with pictures. 
We feel very blessed, and we hope that every single one of them grows up healthy and happy! 

Monday, May 16, 2011

Luminous beings are we....


Jill Bolte Taylor is a Harvard Educated and published Neuroanatomist who experienced a stroke on the left side of her brain years ago. She actually remembers the experience of the stroke and how it affected her, and her thoughts are remarkable. She has some very powerful observations about this, that profoundly speak to how we think and live and feel and experience our world. She is amazing!

Monday, May 9, 2011

Remembering, hearing, speaking out...

Rudolf Brazda
Meet Rudolf Brazda. He will be 98 years old this June. He has worked most of his life as a roofer, and has lived the past 30 some odd years in Alsace, France.

But he was born originally, in 1913, in Brossen, Germany.

And he is a survivor of the Nazi Germany concentration camps. In fact, he was imprisoned in Buchenwald, one of the more infamous of the "work camps" the Germans created.  Between April 1938 and April 1945, some 238,380 people of various nationalities including 350 Western Allied POWs were incarcerated in Buchenwald. One estimate places the number of deaths in Buchenwald at 56,000.

Rudolf Brazda survived it.

He is not a Jew, or a Gypsy, or one of the Allies...
He is a 175er.
In fact, Rudolf Brazda is the last living "Pink Triangle" prisoner to have been incarcerated in the Death and Work camps for being homosexual.
Here, in his own words, is a little of his story:


He was living in Germany in the last days of the old Wiemar Republic, with its easy tolerance and safety for homosexuals, when the rise of Nazi Germany changed everything...after being arrested twice under the 175 law prohibiting Homosexuality, instead of being deported as he expected, he was taken to Buchenwald in 1942. And the prisoners uniform they gave him had the Pink Triangle patch on it - not the symbol of Gay Pride as it is today, but a public mark of shame and singling him out as homosexual.


He spent 3 years in Buchenwald in unimaginable conditions, and finally, after being hidden by a friend, in the area where they worked, Brazda, managed to avoid being taken on the infamous death marches, and was rescued by the Americans.
He emigrated to France, to Alsace and in the early 1950s, Rudolf met Edi at a costume ball, who became his life companion. In the early 1960s they moved into a house they built in the suburbs of Mulhouse, where Rudolf still resides. Rudolf tended to Edi for over 30 years after he was crippled by a severe work accident, until Edi's death in 2003.

In spite of old age, he is a keen observer and follower of the news. So in 2008, when he heard on German TV of the impending unveiling of a memorial to homosexual victims of Nazism in Berlin, he decided to make himself known. Although he was not present at the monument's inauguration on May 27, 2008, an invitation was extended to him to attend a ceremony a month later, on the morning of the Berlin CSD gay pride march. Since then, Rudolf has been invited to attend a number of gay events, including Europride Zurich in 2009 and some smaller scaled events in France, Switzerland and Germany. In 2010, Rudolf also received the gold medals of the cities of Toulouse and Nancy in recognition of his commitment to bear witness locally and nationally in France.

Age, and health permitting, Rudolf Brazda is determined to continue speaking out about his past.  Because he knows that the generations to come must know his story.  And we must listen to him while his voice is still with us.

 Because only in remembering, in hearing the stories, in speaking out and taking a stand, can we stop the barbed wire and the hate from rising again.

 
Rudolf Brazda as a young man. 

And then we too must speak...

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Requiem for a friend...almost 30 years too late.

Last night I got a message from my friend Jo that said "Go check my blog". So I did. She was writing about a mutual friend of ours that we both knew many, many years ago, and her post broke my heart. I too owe our friend more than silence. And I speak here with Jo's consent.

There was this little band of us, three of us in high school, one of us in college. We were all friends and members together in church, myself, Jo, Mo, and JP.

Jo and I went to high school together for a time. She was the minister's daughter, which meant of course, that she lived her life in that uncomfortable fish bowl that all preachers kids live in. In her case, it was times a factor of 10, given her parents deep involvement in the local presbytery and beyond, with the denomination. I did realize that Jo was under extreme pressure, even back then; I am only just now, as we have renewed our friendship after decades, finding out just how bad it was!

 Mo was a young college student, and I think the oldest of the four of us. She played guitar and banjo, with incredible talent, and had an incredible gift for singing. I also played guitar and sang, although not quite at Mo's skill level.

JP had been my friend since birth (not kidding about that - our moms were pregnant at the same time with us, our parents were dear friends, and she and I grew up in each other's back pockets, so to speak.) The four of us formed a quartet of friendship, music, faith and fun. We were usually found together on Wednesday nights at church. Mo came over to my house and played music for my parents.

I graduated, and went off to college. The first year I came home for the summer, I was hauled off for a trip with my parents, and then worked for my dad at his business. I saw Mo briefly - nothing seemed wrong, exactly. Or did it? Does what I have learned now add a new perspective to an old memory? I want to say I felt that she was uncomfortable, and that something was seriously out of kilter. If I did see this then, it was subliminal, an instinctive question that never quite emerged into the light of day, I have no idea now if I wish I had spoken up or not...I saw Mo one more time, in December of that year. I was in the hospital with surgery, she came to visit and sat with me. So did JP, though they came at different times, and not together. Is that significant, now, I wonder?

I don;'t remember seeing Jo at all. JP was at church, but she was here going to a local college, and we were going two different directions, we didn't really connect as strongly. And then I went back to school. Due to how the next few years played out, I was almost not at home at all for 3 summers straight - I worked jobs out of state, went to Alabama for a summer with my college roommate, etc. When I came home for good, three years later, it was to a stunning tragedy.

Jo was married (which turned out to be not a good thing, over the years, but hindsight is 20/20) and she was not at our church any more, though we saw each other every so often.

JP and I did reconnect and had a few years of close friendship before we drifted apart again.

But the tragedy was Mo.

She was dead.

I don't think anyone even told me when she had died. Not even my parents! I was stunned and devastated. And something was horribly wrong. I could not get any  real information on what in the hell had happened. NO ONE would talk about it. Mom and Dad intimated that there had been "problems". The closest thing I could find out was from JP, who stated that Mo had overdosed. Possibly suicide. End of story. No further details. JP was very terse, harsh and judgmental. Which became a pattern that was characteristic of JP, although I had never really seen it before this. I was horrified at the bitterness and callousness of JP's response. I can see now it was a mask for pain and sorrow too. But that was it.  I could not get any further information. Out of anyone. It remained one of life's dark mysteries, that my mind returned to every so often over the years, usually late at night in the privacy of my own thoughts. My own life became very confused at this time, as I struggled with coming out as Gay, and then in self denial, ran from that truth for the next decade.

JP and I stayed fairly close, up until we both married. We slowly drifted apart, again, and now see very little if nothing of each other. I can't say I totally regret this. We inhabit different worlds, philosophically and spiritually. Should we ever discuss these things, the result would be terrible. There are times when its wise to let go.

And then there are times when letting go is stupid. Jo was pretty much out of my life for years afterwards. She changed churches, and denominations. She moved out of state. Occasionally, once in a blue moon, we collided around town when she was visiting her parents. Given that I was Gay, and still thinking of Jo as the Christian I had known, I held her at arms length. The last thing I needed, my reasoning went, was for Jo to find out I was gay, and word through her to get back to her father, and through that, to my parents and family. Oh, what I did not know! (For this, I apologize, Jo. I should have trusted you.) I was always very glad to see her, but wary, and kept contact superficial.
As I said, hindsight is 20/20. Bitterly so.

A few months ago, Jo's Mother died. I went to the funeral, back at the old church, which I have long since left, and saw Jo for the first time in years. It was an extraordinarily uncomfortable funeral - there were under currents that were strange. And being there is always heart wrenching for me anyway, due to the memories I have. But it was a joy to see Jo. We swapped enough information to get in touch, and when I got home I got an extraordinary email from her - she has left Christianity, and found a new path as a pagan Goddess worshiper, and she has been coming Out as Gay. So....my return email was "Well, guess what, I left the old church, I am Episcopalian now and a a third degree pagan priest, and Gay" Which of course led to Jo pointing out that she has suspected that I was Gay for awhile. It must be the flashing sign over my head...anyway. We have spent the last few months joyfully reconnecting, talking over old times.  I came Out further to her as transgender, we follow each other's blogs etc, and have plans to spend time together, DreamWeaver, and myself and Jo, for Beltane with her group.

And  then Mo's name came up. We have been talking about her for a number of weeks, edging around what happened to her all those years ago. And then Jo posted her blog last night...

And this is what Jo said.  Mo was Gay. She and Jo lived together for awhile during those years I was away at college. Mo was in counselling with Jo's father, the minister of the church, struggling with her homosexuality and receiving nothing but judgement and condemnation and being told you must change. And Jo and Mo were lovers. But Jo, as it says in her blog post, finally left Mo and moved out - broke up, so to speak, because Jo's parents were pouring on extreme pressure for Jo to move out and get away from Mo. Jo was also struggling with the "oh my God, am I Gay?" question, and facing the horribly conditional love of her parents that she never could satisfy. It was an unbelievably nightmarish situation.

Finally, Jo's father refused to counsel Mo any further, and cut her off, because she could not force herself to be straight. I wonder if that was carried further - was she actually excommunicated from the church? I don't know, but it sure would fit the situation - this church has done it before, in its arrogance and intolerance.

What we conjecture may have happened, due to JP's harsh judgement and bitterness and reticence after Mo's death, is that Mo MIGHT have confided in JP her struggle with being Gay. We don't know for sure and I doubt we may ever know, but it fits. And if Mo had confided in her, knowing JP, she rejected Mo and cut her off. It would be consistent with JP's pattern of behavior.

Jo was driven away by the terrible threat of losing her parents love and acceptance, and by the nightmare condemnation of the conservative church.
Whatever happened between JP and Mo, JP for sure wasn't there for her.
And I was gone, out of town, out of touch with the whole thing, and clueless.

And Mo killed herself.

She killed herself because she was Gay, and the church condemned her for it. Her support system unraveled, partially due to the bigotry of the church. And she could not reconcile at all her inner self as a Gay person and the crushing judgement and demands of the faith which had been her solace and refuge up until then.

And now I know my friend Mo died by her own hand, unable to reconcile her truths.

I have spent this night weeping, and raging. Heartbroken for Mo, and for Jo, for the horror they endured at the hands of the church. Heartbroken that I was not there for them at the time. You always have that feeling, you know? Maybe I could have made a difference. But that was almost 3 decades ago. My own self realization of being gay had not even begun when this all took place. I was not then what I am now, did not know what I know now. I do know that I would not have been cruel. Even back then, I was capable of unconditional love. But I also would have at that time intellectually believed the traditional rationale that homosexuality was a sin. Maybe the unconditional love would have been enough to balance that. More than likely, I would have been another nail driven into Mo's coffin. It will always be a "what if", in this life. And it will haunt me forever.

So these are MY words to Mo.

Mo, I also loved you. I miss you and I wish to God I had been there for you. I pray for your forgiveness that I was not there when you needed me, even though it was perhaps impossible for me to have known that at the time. I have loved you and remembered you for all these years. And despite the pain, I am glad I now know what happened. Your life was a blessing to me.
You will always be remembered. And what is remembered, lives.
Love,
Cameron