Ethel Merman, Musicals and Passion of the Heart

In my family, being the hostess means something.  My grandmother always prepared what to others might be considered a feast, but to us seemed normal.  Each generation has their host or hostess responsibility, male or female, each has their role.  Perhaps that is why we all enjoy company.

Meals around food.  Always having something to share.  Cookies in the jar, refreshments available.  Gathering for a drink.  Dinner after Church.  Spending time with others but always making other welcome to join the party.  Rubbing elbows, telling stories, encouraging debate and discussion, guiding appropriateness.  Speaking our mind from a place of love and care.  Encouraging others to pursue goals, dreams, and hopes.  Being called the hostess with the mostest is the highest honor. 

Sometimes I toy with the idea of whether Hillary can sing, wing the Presidency and start of her speech by singing the song just to shock the nation into cooperation.  I know I'd vote with her just to see it happen!

Perhaps, I am more like Ethel than I care to admit.  Brash, a song in my step, and somewhat direct.  Comfortable on stage, always passionate in motivating others and ready to go the extra mile to make something work for someone else.  Its important that people achieve what they love, and its amazing when they are honored to have help.
   
Let me share a special memory.  One of the first times that Carleton hung out with me, I already had set in my mind, through Netflix to watch "Call Me Madam".  When he arrived, to his horror, I was presenting only one option, a musical.  Poor boy didn't know what was coming and was considering the alternatives.

Within moments, years after her passing, Ethel had Carleton's attention.  He was moving, enjoying the performance, and even was so engaged, asked to see her perform "Hostest with the Mostest" a second time.  I lauged, but started it the second time.  Just to see whether he would even get up just to join in.  I'll keep the answer a secret.

I have attached two of my favorite songs from musicals.  It is from this very movie.  You may roll your eyes like Carleton did, but maybe like Carleton, within 5 minutes, you will be singing or dancing along with Ethel.  It certainly is  one of his first "favorite moments" and we smile and have even suggested certain nurses at UCSD qualify as the Hostess with the Mostest when he has stayed there. 
 
The second song perhaps defines for me what love is.  Some, at the church where I pastored in Portland will remember Cynthia Butts and I performing "You're Not Sick, Your Just in Love" in a talent show. 

It certainly describes love for many.  It can't be judged, it can only be defined.  How helpful when someone else can help explain the feelings without having to know to whom you have those feelings.

For years, I always sang the part of the junior of the duet.  It seems lately, let's just say, I sing the "older" part.  Likely the other reason at times I identify with the Broadway Lady Herself, Ethel.  Performance, a rhythm in your step, and a song in your heart.  No matter the circumstance, it is a recipe for recovery and facing life's events, no matter how serious.

It still is a relatively current message, as Chenowith and Lane, sing the very same song.  At least, I don't have the velvet gloves.

I am what I am, are you?

This week was a week where we saw terror at a marathon in Boston.  Home to home searches, death, and a government decision to avert due process including Miranda rights.

Many may suggest that this is necessary.  I do not.  I crave and care for the civil rights of all people.  When those civil rights are impacted, out of supposed necessity, I am concerned about what that will do in the future.

So much of the diversity I cherish in America comes from those who are unique, powerful in their own perception of reality.  Minority communities are often marginalized until people from that community refuse any longer to tolerate being anything other than equal.  The Black Community, Women, The LGBT Community, Asians, Hispanics, those from Eastern Europe, from Africa, and those who worship differently. 

The contributions to our culture is imbued with the differences of these communities and their beliefs.  Our music is constantly renewed and reenergized as people hear new sounds, new beats, new ways to hear old souls, old wisdom and old cultures.

Terrorism, bullying, intimidation, control, superiority, power.   All have costs and consequences, all are responses to past hurts and behaviors.  Without an examination of the past, an identification of the issues, an embrace of the mistakes and an appreciation for the soul, these acts will continue.  Manipulation, betrayal, and the belief that one does not have other options lead to this path of destruction that so impacts societies worldwide, further hurting communities dulling many to the horror, inhibiting their abilities toward forgiveness, sympathy and love.

After a terrible week for our nation as we relived terrorism in Boston, while we watched with concern the pursuit of two boys as they killed, I worried.  Will we resolve to expect more terrorism?  Will we search for solutions or accept it into our lives?  Are there alternatives that do not destroy our cherished civil rights as this government the last 12 years, from both political parties, so callously ignore and are unwilling to restore?

Diversity of our minority communities enhance not only our music, but our economy.  The immigration of those who are new to our culture revitalizes our own.  Let us not forget to embrace their courage, their struggle, and the discrimination and possible persecution that would move them to want to start over, flee to our land, or simply want a better life.

I enjoy the authentic Indian food I purchase at the indian outlet in the Mission Valley Mall, Monsoon is a great place for the exploration and enjoyment.  When I want other ethnic food, I explore to my hearts content.

Diversity in our music and our food leads to greater diversity in our economy.  Dollars in the LGBT Community simply for travel grows LGBT Friendly economies significantly.  Forbes Magazine in 2011 reported "10 Things You Need to Know about Gay Travel" listing that over $65 Billion in LGBT travel in the US alone is generated from the LGBT Community.  When it comes to choosing one hotel over another, price and gay-friendly reputation are top priorities.  So, being friendly is important, but more important is that you support the organizations that the community trusts.  It is no surprise that major cities where states accept gay marriage have huge revenue generation in their economies.

Diversity matters.  Americans are proud of their individualism and American minority communities are no different.  They embrace America and its opportunities while appreciating their uniqueness in belief and culture.  Appreciating America in its diversity is the first step to understanding our ability to respond to crisis around the world.  For, it is likely, we identify with someone personally from that area of the world.

At the end of the day, I embrace the diversity of the American culture.  I accept that there are parts I do not appreciate as much as others.  Admittedly, I have said that Rap music has a silent "C" in the name.  I do not enjoy the extremist nature of those who suggest they need uzzies to protect their second amendment rights. 

Yet, I admire the passion, the openness, the courage of those who walk down the street daring others to judge them.  I appreciate the person who "comes out" expecting hate yet surprised at the acceptance.  I am moved by those who unite behind someone who carries the burden of another.  See, ultimately, in our diversity, we face the same struggles for love, acceptance, joy, and the pursuit of happiness.

In an effort to confirm your belief in Diversity, I hope you will share this with others.  And, include the following link, or one similar in your honoring of diversity.  La Cage Aux Folles likely sang it best, though many voices have sung it at the top of their lungs across continents since. 

Let's turn our thoughts to those who embrace the diversity we cherish. Your life is a sham until you can say "Hey, World, I am what I am". Whether you say it as Popeye or as a performer in La Cage Aux Folles, I embrace who I am. I hope you will embrace who you are and enjoy the diversity of differences. 

It certainly makes my world more vibrant. My closest friends are those who are unabashed to be who they are. I trust in their individualism, appreciate their history, their courage, and their power. You may not always think the delivery is perfect, but the pure honesty is what makes it so valuable to me. Care to share your favorite performance of "I am what I am" or what makes you appreciate the differences between you and your friends? Diveristy can unite. What do you appreciate in someone else? Post it here then tell that person. I am what I am, are you?

Denial Frustration and Fear

I admit I am in denial.  Reasonably, I leave that excuse at the door of hope.  After hopeful Chemotherapy results for two consecutive weeks, Carleton and I were thrilled to see him walk without a cane.  Unfortunately, the chemotherapy, while beginning to destroy the cancerous tumors in his body, destroyed the remaining white blood cells available to ward off infection.

On Wednesday, after a visit from Dr. Caperna, at our home, he urged Carleton to seek admission to UCSD Hospital.  We called the Clinic to assist with a direct admit, but since it was so late in the day, 4:00pm, no doctor was available.  Management at the Clinic has now refused to allow Dr. Caperna, a doctor that gladly served there for many years, authority to request a direct admit.  In fact, the several visits he has made to us, personally, we have learned, the Clinic will not process due to the management feeling that it is a competitive threat to have Dr. Caperna provide home health visits or assist with case management.   But, I digress.

After the hour of unsuccessful attempts to reach the primary doctor at Owen, or the Cancer Doctor for his care, no nurse was able to provide a direct admit.  So, Carleton and I ventured to the UCSD Emergency room to wait for admittance, knowing he had no immune system to ward off infection.  Were it not for the advocacy of Dr. Caperna to alert Emergency Room doctors of our arrival, it may have been longer.  Instead, Carleton was admitted in less than 30 minutes.

Nurse Robin, after the initial visit by the doctor (one of three), began accessing the port Carleton had for the chemotherapy, using it to access blood and place antibiotics.  She then started an secondary location for an IV, to provide further antibiotics.  Soon, a Christmas tree of bags was flowing into Carleton.  Though, due to the number, there was conversation with pharmacy about what combinations could go together appropriately.

Two doctors then arrived, tall and masked, to ask Carleton questions, and ultimately if his lungs should fail, if they could put a tube down his throat.  Secondarily, they asked, should his heart stop, not they expected this to happen in the next few hours, what were his wishes around resuscitation. 

Normal questions, I’m sure.  In fact, we have a DNR statement.  But, to hear two doctors ask it the way they did cause me to lose what little of a poker face I can manage in an emergency room.  Carleton freaked, naturally feeling panicked and unsure of what he wished.   Fortunately, Nurse Robin said he had time to make his decision.  We talked.  Knowing all that had been going on, his single concise thought was expressing his biggest worry of being a burden on me.    

I stayed for 6 hours, standing on my feet, or should I say, swaying on my feet.  I have had limited hours of sleep for months unless I crash sleep to catch up.  Carleton’s brother Brad showed up a few hours later, joining us in the tiny room in Emergency, while we waited for a room at UCSD.  At 230am, Brad walked me to the car, I gave him some things for Carleton, and he questioned how I kept moving, working, volunteering, while having my own personal challenge that was just finished.  I smiled and told him Carleton thought I was a super hero.  And, frankly, I like that concept, so why not encourage it?

Fast forward two days.  I had spent most of Thursday, arriving late in the morning, to a small army of medical professionals just leaving Carleton’s room.  He had an anxiety attack when he awoke to 8 doctors surrounding his bed.  Wouldn’t you?   Most of that day, I spent in the room except to steal away for a Chocolate Shake delivered by Marci Bair.  Amazingly, she agrees with me that a chocolate shake is not complete without fries.  My personal belief is that together they make a complex protein, but don’t quote me.

Friday Carleton was given more news.  There were some areas of improvement, some areas of discovery, and no areas of good news.  Carleton and I have one area of major agreement.  We are stunned by the set back.  We had thought things were headed up, better, he was doing so much better before Wednesday.

Saturday, Carleton requested repeatedly to anyone who entered the room that he wished to go home.  He wished to sleep in our bed.  Tied to so many lines of antibiotics, he had to call a nurse to go to the toilet.  He felt humiliation and frustration.  At 3pm, I arrived at the hospital, his Dad and his brother in the room.  He begged all three of us to break him out.  I think my line will famously be “not today”.  In that statement, his Dad and brother quietly agreed. 

Not today.  I do not know if you understood that term, but to me, it is a heart breaking statement.  For “not today” means that staying in the hospital means there is still hope.  If I were to agree to take on the medical establishment and take Carleton home, it would mean there was no longer hope, in my mind.

He yelled at us in frustration.  He cried, he was in pain, discomfort, from some lesions, from spots where there was infection.  The Earth was warring against his body and his body has no immune system, just a Christmas Tree of Antibiotics.  Gowned as we all were, he sat up, reached his arms toward me, choosing me.  From the end of the bed, I bent over, held him, he sobbed, then gave up his requests to be freed and fell into a deep sleep.  I think he just needed us to know his frustration at the betrayal.  The betrayal of his body, the betrayal of his independence, the betrayal of our collective ability to let him be anywhere but where he is now.

His dad and I left together.  We quietly walked through the hospital.  He asked how business was.  I was honest, overwhelmed with the competing demands of Carleton.  He laughed.  Him too.  We expressed our mutual quiet anger over the situation.  We worried together about what next steps might be necessary.  Needless to say, I called Mom.  I needed a dose of my reality and Mom is certainly someone who, like me, tells the truth, acknowledges the emotions, she honors the emotions, keeping them safe between us.  As we talked, I realized that Carleton chose me of the three men in his life.  And, his family has recognized me as his.  And, I was grieving that this was not very fair.

I returned later Saturday evening, to hang with Carleton, alone.  At one point, we relaxed next to each other.  Not comfortably, since there were a myriad of plastic hoses I feared I would hinder, pull or bend.  And, after more reports of infections that could be addressed by antibiotics, Carleton whispered two words.  “I’m scared.”  He just doesn’t think he is lucky twice and he pulled this off last July.

I hugged him.  We cried.  See, I’m not scared.  And, on one thing, I disagree with Carleton.  He is lucky.  And, his luck will never run out.  Not for Carleton and not for me.  He has hope.  He has me.  He has a family that cares.  And, no matter what happens, we will be there.   And, that is one thing that denial never can destroy.

 

Facebook quandary when your boyfriend's mother wants in.

I have a fear.  It is a fear of family.   That isn’t to say that I reject the concept.  I love the Appleton family with its diverse and rich stories, the family reunions and the traditions each of the Appleton subsets create. 

The Brown family, with all of its conversations, drama, and passion are an entirely different family culture, and one that I appreciate as well.  Though, at times, I wonder how my mother and father maneuvered the waters between those two cultures of family, I represent much of both.

And, it is with great fear, that I have been introduced to a third family by Carleton.  I have stood at a distance, over more than two years, after several invites.  I have attended Christmas Dinner and learned about an entirely different set of rules.  I have met the entire family, at one sitting, which is simply not possible in an Appleton or Brown world.  Yet, I offered my own set of rules in exchange and met some wonderful people in their family.  I love their grandma who is in her 80’s simply because of her affection for Carleton.  And, I appreciate the small family of Carleton’s who is now facing the crisis he lives today.

See, I have a healthy respect, even love, for family.  But, Linda, Carleton’s mom, just asked to be invited to my Facebook.  Is she crazy?  Most of my own family would prefer not having to feel obligated to be member of my Facebook.  Yet, without at least one representative from each family keeping tabs on me, how else would they get information about how I am doing, what crusade I am on, or how everyone else is doing?   You forget an important construct of the Appleton family.  The phone is a tool that rings, they aren’t normally aware of how to use the numerical buttons on it.  Well, except Aunt Doris.  But, she is in her 80’s. 

Yet, why does Linda want to be my “friend” on Facebook?  My first worry was whether to call her to ask her if she personally had become TOTALLY INSANE?  I realized that would be met with chuckles from the males in her family, including Carleton.  And, I have had several serious discussions with Carleton already about his tone, conversation, and interaction with his mom. 

My second idea was to perhaps “edit” her experience initially with my Facebook.  For a brief moment I considered it.  Before I laughed hilariously as reality swept back into that temporary fantasy land I created where I withhold my opinion, avoid making sweeping generalizations, avoid a humorous comment where someone finds offense, or where I do not raise issues of concern, daily. 

My third choice was simply, and quietly, to ignore the request.  Right, that would work.  Just like that would work in my family.  “You accepted so and so, why aren’t you accepting my request”.   My food might be poisoned.  Or, worse, the grapes she brings when she brings Gatorade for Carleton would stop arriving.

So, ultimately, I will quietly (well as quietly as I am capable of) accept Linda into my Facebook family.  Yet, that acceptance is with two caveats, for Linda.   First, I reject the idea that Facebook or any other forum is to be censored for the person who is being represented in that forum.  Secondly, after acceptance, I have been told by my sister, editing options are available to “protect” those who have willingly joined my Facebook then determine to move Facebook issues to family events.  Because, I learned long ago, politics before Apple Pie just ruins Mom’s day.

So, as I reminded all of you when Mom joined Facebook.  Mind your P's and Q's!    You can always send me a personal question directly without posting it on Facebook for the "Mom's" to see.

A Personal Note for Linda

Welcome Linda Cannon, to my Facebook Page.  In advance, please note that I have been working for equality for women, minorities, and the LGBT Community specifically since before 1990.  On women’s issues, I tend to be irritably strident and on LGBT Community issues, I rarely will accept anything less than equality for all.

You may want to temper and adjust your receipt of my Facebook postings, since I will post anything I find funny, of concern, or an issue that I find of importance.  This may include racy or political topics. 

Currently, I am the Chair of the GSDBA, I post many of their events to invite those who are my friends to join me there.

I hope you will enjoy your stroll into my world.  It is a world where crazy meets compassion.  There are few topics that I won’t venture to have an opinion, for instances, what color napkins to have for a luncheon.   Feel free to review my tirades on gun violence or attacks on gay youth, because I consider all gay youth my children.  You will see notes from friends I have had for 20 plus years. 

This certainly is one facet of my brain, exposed, for you to learn how I function.  Already, you will note how I serve, care, and function around Carleton.  And, currently, you have not weighed in and I would be a fool to inquire as to your opinion.