Short version: Being gay and proud ≠ Proud of being gay

Pride — As Pride Month drags to a close (sorry, couldn’t resist) and SCOTUS offers a “Get Out of Jail Free” card to discriminatory businesses (although, tbh, I do not think I would WANT to patronize any business that marginalized me or my friends, and there are too many options of providers who are either friendly or neutral; for me it’s like flying a Confederate (or Trump) flag on your business property, a guarantee that you won’t be getting any of MY money), I want to visit the bigger picture surrounding the word, Pride.
Because I’ve stopped following most Neanderthals and the proudly “unwoke,” I saw only a few anti-Pride, “Straight Pride” memes. I am proud of my success in achieving my goal of no longer tilting at the Windmills of Ignorance without compensation, so I didn’t respond, thus neither “wasting my time nor annoying the pig.”*
Still, there’s a bigger point that needs to be made, and it’s not one that I have seen anywhere else, so I’ll offer my take (it or leave it).
The word “PRIDE” has more nuance than some understand (nuance, like empathy, seems increasingly endangered). Of course there’s the initial thought, having PRIDE in some accomplishment, skill, developed character trait, action, etc. Something deliberate and/or mindful. None of my gay (or Black or….) friends tout their identities a source of pride, however, because identity is intrinsic, not a choice, certainly not an achievement. That’s NOT what the marches, t-shirts, buttons, posts, etc. are about.
For full understanding of a word, we need to know its antonym. The antonym for PRIDE is SHAME; marginalized groups have long been expected to be (or least act) ashamed of their innate identities, that they are somehow unworthy of love or respect. Pride means refusing to accept the shame, refusing to remain out of sight, invisible. “In the closet,” if you will. Pride is about sharing the courage, opening the doors of acceptance, demonstrating, “You are not alone.” 
Pride movements are people demanding to be seen, refusing to be disrespected, cancelled, marginalized, or viewed as somehow “less” than the majority (read “in power”) group. Having once seen a friend, neighbor, or relative proudly display their authentic identity forces people to confront the discomfiting realization that maybe someone they love might belong to that group they hate, dislike, discount, or marginalize. Unless they’ve embraced the blinders of prejudice and bigotry, they can never unsee that person’s authenticity. The courage of PRIDE movement pioneers sends exactly that message, and the spread of that message is why society is slowly, grudgingly proffering acceptance, despite backlash and obstruction from those who fear change, who fear those who are different. That is the beauty and value of Pride movements, validating the right to be proud of who you are, no matter who approves or disapproves.
If you read the comments supporting the anti-LBGTQ+ legislation (both passed and proposed), the sub-text (and occasionally, in a burst of accidental honesty, literal text) is: “You are not welcome here. If you insist on staying (or, heaven {their version only, of course} forbid, advocating for your rights to be seen and treated like everyone else), you’re not going to like the atmosphere.” 
Ameristan, Love It or Leave It. PRIDE offers another, wider, more inclusive, path.

*Don’t try to teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and annoys the pig.

An Incomplete Analogy: The Road to Authenticity

    As I’ve been “stuck” with my own thoughts these past weeks, just “chillaxing” with not much else to do save watch the tide roll in, my ruminations have turned philosophical. The passage of time and the inevitability of mortality (COVID serves as a constant reminder) have also contributed to my retrospection, although I haven’t just been looking backward. An optimist (a realistic optimist, I think, but an optimist nonetheless), I firmly believe there’s a road ahead that stretches farther than I can see. But….

Here’s the secret (and it’s not really a secret because certainly I’m not the first to reach this conclusion). There is no road – at least no single road. And it’s also no secret that your road won’t look much, if anything, like mine. Some roads are narrow with clearly defined borders, while others are broad and expansive, like the Amazon River, constantly changing its channels, requiring endless updates for its pilots. I doubt that we share some predetermined and recognizable destination. At least that is my (non-conformist) hope.

Some paths appear smooth, well paved with a clear beginning and end, others filled with obstacles, potholes, hidden traps. Be warned, however; both may be illusory. Your perception of another’s road can often be, probably is, deceiving. That smooth road may be far more daunting than you can realize and that hardscrabble path an inspiration to its traveler. There is no manual, no road map; only with work and introspection can we discover our own road, the only road we can truly hope to know. And even that hard-earned knowledge, like the best of our highways, needs constant maintenance as we adapt to our lives.

Here’s another sort of secret. You don’t have complete control of your road and almost zero control of anyone else’s. Multiple factors, when, where, how, and to whom you are born place you on your road, provide you with your starting point. None of those factors, however, define your road’s final destination. In fact, few of us will ever quite reach the end of our road of self-discovery, of authenticity. It may become clearer in the distance, but, if we’re doing it right, our road will always be in flux, because there will be events on that road that force us to concentrate on moving from Point A to Point B without distraction. Those events may even require us, like a maps app, to “recalculate.” 

None of that changes our ultimate goal, however, if that goal is unearthing our authentic selves, living our authentic lives, true to our values and beliefs.

You might ask: What about those who travel with us, share our journey? I confess the analogy sort of breaks down a bit here. But those loved ones, while perhaps even sharing the same mode of transportation, have their own awareness of the road ahead. My wife and I have discovered we perceive colors very differently (just one reason I pretty much let her decide on my wardrobe components), but if we are both/all on the road to authenticity, we’ll notice different landmarks in different ways and be impacted differently. Not that that’s a bad thing. Sharing those differing perceptions makes the journey richer, more joyous, in fact, for all the travelers.

I offer this because I have been, and imagine always will be, in some way, a teacher, a teacher who needs to share life lessons, with the full knowledge that my audience may not be interested or ready to learn, and that’s okay, because if that describes you, then you have your own road to travel and you’re free to ignore the billboards, no matter how valuable and enlightening, along the route.

I may no longer have a classroom (and under current circumstances I guess I’m kind of happy about that), nor even a playing field, from which to disseminate my random thoughts. So, in today’s world I choose to use social media to share my journey, my path, sometimes forcing personal reveals because I believe that the only way we can truly achieve authenticity is openly and honestly, prepared to accept that others may not understand, may not agree, may not even accept. And all that’s okay, because, in the end, I’m the only one who needs to fully see, and accept, what my authenticity really looks like, although having a travel partner who accepts my journey is definitely a plus.

I’m thankful that, after fits and starts based on fears that were more imaginary than real, I’m truly beginning to see, not the finish line, of course, because that’s a moving target, but a clearer, if still kind of uncharted, path to that destination. My hope is that by sharing these and other thoughts you can start on your path sooner than I.*

Best wishes to all on your respective journeys. May you find as much of the same peace as I have, although ideally with an earlier start!

* If you don’t know where you’re going, you'll end up someplace else. – Yogi Berra

Redefining Normal Revisited*

   Mortality and friendship have forced themselves to the front of my consciousness lately.

As the 2020 softball season tries, fitfully, to start, with so many more questions than answers to this point, my mind meanders to memories of my late friend, Tim Cerutti, with whom I was privileged to enjoy the past (too) few seasons, and I wonder what he’d be thinking about how we’re trying to redefine normal in an increasingly abnormal world. I know he’d find a way to “choose happy,” because for Tim that wasn’t just a glib phrase but the maxim he modeled for those of us lucky to have shared the warmth and light of his presence, no matter what adjustments to normal he was forced to face.

This may seem like a non-sequitur, but bear with me. I am a terrible golfer. Once, as I was talking about golf and my multiple golfing deficiencies, another late dear friend of mine, Rick Smith (who, for those who were not lucky enough to know him, was forced to {frequently but successfully} redefine normal for himself in ways that were unfortunate and unfair), shared his wisdom. He said, in essence, “Your par doesn’t have to be what the scorecard says. You get to decide what par (average, normal) means for you [on this hole].”

Why should that apply only to golf (which, with apologies to my golfing friends, isn’t really all that important)? I’m sure that working in a school helped me create a flexible definition of “normal;” even the expression “normal day” was oxymoronic, to say nothing of “normal week,” “normal month” or “normal year.” And that was BEFORE the pandemic!

What is “normal” anyway? If it means average, is that really what anyone aspires to? Is being “run of the mill” much of a goal? Does anyone aim for “nondescript?” Is anyone, in fact, actually normal? Aren’t we all at least a little bit weird (and if we’re not, aren’t we mostly boring)? 

Self-satisfaction, and I’d even argue happiness, comes from accepting who we are (including embracing whatever weirdness helps define us) and where we are in life. That requires a constant redefinition of “normal.” Are any of us the same person we were       years ago? Why would we ever think we’re going to stop changing, just because now we’ve reached the age of      ? 

Studies, however, show that is exactly what we do think! They also show we’re wrong, a great example of “stinkin’ thinkin’,” because when we assume we’ve stopped changing, we get stuck. Even if we did stop changing (and, to reiterate, I don’t believe we do), clearly the world around us is constantly mutating, whether we approve or not. If we’re stuck in an obsolete definition of normal, if we refuse to redefine what is normal for us, for our loved ones, for society even, we have trouble adjusting, and, by extension, finding joy, contentment, happiness, etc. I’d suggest there are multiple, glaring examples of that self-imposed anger, unhappiness, even misery, available to those without blinders.

Normal is relative, and different for each of us. I may be, peripherally at least, in the same profession, but I’m certainly not the same person I was almost 50 years ago when I started my teaching career (the anti-jock who became a coach); I’m not the same person I was 15, 10, 5 years ago, probably not even the same as last year. I certainly know my body is different, that what I’m physically (and even mentally) capable of today has changed. My choice? I can bemoan my encroaching decrepitude, or I can redefine normal.

There is no universal normal; would we even want there to be? What does exist, for all of us, is our ability to define par for ourselves, to forge our own path to achieving the best possible result (instead of fixating on the best result possible {Berndt’s Rule of Life #4}). 

While I believe this to be true, what will be more of a challenge is accepting the changes and limitations that are inexorably making their way in my direction, seemingly emanating from constantly shifting sources. I hope I’m up to the task. But if the challenge is too great, I can always redefine normal.

* A recasting of a previous piece 7+ years ago, updated for 2020, clearly not a normal time.

No Discounts on Happy Meals

I have a list of rules I’ve developed over my meandering life journey. Rule #1, however, serves as the linchpin: “You don’t get a discount on the Happy Meal just because you’re not.” But it took me a while to reach that milestone marker.

As I’ve been revisiting the “lost letters” from my past, I’ve been forced to reconsider my original assessment that those first years of college (at Hamilton) were spectacularly unsuccessful. In traditional terms, of course, that is completely accurate (earning about one year’s worth of credit for my two years of residence). What I’ve garnered, however, is that I did set (whether unconsciously or subconsciously), and achieve, an important goal. Apparently I was determined to be unhappy and, not surprisingly, found multiple opportunities to focus on and achieve that end.

I’d like to tell you that this was just delayed youthful angst (it’s an understatement to say that I was not particularly mature), but thinking back I also remember, this time as an alleged adult, waking up, in the middle of the night  to write dark, brooding, and (probably) bad poetry. While I still have those documents of despondency, I choose to let them live where they belong, unvisited, in the darkness of a folder.

My quest for unhappiness had familial roots. In this alley between Mothers and Fathers Days, let me state that my parents did the best they could, given the family situations they came from. I don’t think DFS even existed then, and I can’t say for sure if either would have qualified for a visit, even by the standards of today. I think it’s telling, however, that my father once told me, “Happiness is over-rated.” 

I eventually came to realize that I, and I alone, am in charge of my own happiness. Finding that happiness also involved becoming my own, authentic self. That was, and still is to an extent, definitely a process, a journey, helped along by a supportive wife and loving daughter (and her family), plus a big helping of what were often dismissively (with a large dollop of snark) described as “pop-psychology” books. (The common theme of those books? Until you like/accept your (authentic) self, happiness will be elusive, at best.)

While this path to happiness has taken a while, with occasional potholes and roadblocks, I can report that now I can always respond to the ubiquitous greeting, “Have a nice day!” with, “Why not? No extra charge, right?” That usually generates smiles in both directions.

Have a nice day!

Is this racist?

Again, as the song goes, we’re all a little bit racist. (And if you haven’t heard it, you should, so click here for the link) I’m not interested in pointing fingers here at anyone else. This is, in fact, a question I’m trying to answer about me, for my own edification, and I’m open to any of my formers weighing in.

J.K. Rowling is defending the choice of a black actor in the role of Hermione Granger for the Harry Potter stage production. Except that Emma Watson’s beautiful face is what I see when I think of Hermione, I have no problem with such a choice. I don’t see race as a factor in any of the Harry Potter characters.

But a few weeks ago we saw (in what was a pleasant surprise to me) a very good production of The Sound of Music at the Fox. This time I was admittedly disconcerted by the actor who played the role of Mother Superior.

She was talented and definitely more than capable of handling the role. But it bothered me that she was a black actor. Not that there aren’t black mother superiors (I assume – haven’t met any, but then I don’t hang out with nuns and haven’t met any of any color). But the play is set in Austria during the Nazi era.

My objection is with historical accuracy (and yes, I appreciate the irony of objecting to historical accuracy in a musical of any kind). I find it highly unlikely that there were any sisters of color in any order in Austria in the late 1930s, much less a Mother Superior.

On the other hand, were we to limit actors to only portraying characters who share the same racial profile as the original script or story, isn’t that racist? The casting did not in any way limit my enjoyment of the production, but neither could I move fully past what I perceived as an historical disconnect. 

And maybe the fact that I’m even thinking about this at all is evidence that the casting decision was the right one, perhaps for reasons that were never intended.

In Defense of Drumpf *

Here on the morning of Super Tuesday, like presidential politicians and politics and the advertising that supports it all, this headline might be labelled as misleading and disingenuous. How appropriate. In any case, of course, Donald Trump neither needs nor wants my defense.

Let me be clear. I cannot imagine any circumstances under which I could vote for Donald Trump. Or any of the Republican candidates. I’m pretty much reconciled to this being the first election where I cannot find a way to rationalize at least some candidate to support. Whoever wins in 2016 will start his/her term with the support of less than half the voters, and being despised by a significant percentage. I am not optimistic and see no better days in the future. I for sure won’t be voting in any Missouri presidential primary.

Donald Trump is the Impressionist candidate – a significant number of people like the picture he paints even if the details (and process) are fuzzy. It must be admitted, however, that impressionists can create vivid images that allow us to see what we want. The man is intelligent, no doubt, but his solutions to problems resemble (often) ugly wallpaper over plaster cracks – neither permanent nor particularly effective. My opinion: we have more serious structural issues, both internal and external, that need to be addressed by more than changing up a façade.

Trump also seems to think that being the biggest, baddest, strongest kid on the block means others will do what you want. He’s not alone in this, as other candidates act like all we as a nation have to do is give orders to the other kids (nations), ignoring that they have their own senses of pride, independence, and, yes, exceptionalism.

I personally do not understand why anyone would want the awful job of president. And, as awful as it has been for some time, it is only getting worse. Who wants to be hated by so many people – and that is just in your own country! Yet many do seem to want the job, to the point of saying and/or doing anything to get it. No tactic is too sleazy, no promise too absurd, no principle too sacred to be modified for the right audience or the right number of votes. Because the men and women from whom we have to choose seemingly will do anything to be president, we must also assume they will do anything as president. (Actually, Jeb! Bush might have been able to draw the line; unfortunately, that was not viewed as a favorable trait and made him one of the worst campaigners ever. While I probably wouldn’t have voted for him nor would I have liked many of his positions and policies, I admit he might have turned out to be a competent president; unfortunately, he ran a staggeringly incompetent campaign.)

 Many, and I include myself here, have longed, loudly at times, for a candidate who would run an honest campaign, putting him or herself out there, to be judged for who (s)he is, not trying to be “politically correct.” Mind you, I do not object to sensitive phrasing and trying to avoid (deliberately) insulting people who think or look differently than you. Empathy is not political correctness, it is being willing to look at things from another’s point of view.

Donald Trump may be the only candidate insisting that the road to the presidency be on his terms (not ideological terms, but personal terms); compared to the other candidates (except maybe Bernie Sanders) he seems to be the only one who won’t do and/or say anything to be president. The rest seem more than willing to let themselves be massaged and manipulated by consultants who tailor their “message du jour” for whatever constituency's vote is being pursued on that campaign stop. Not Trump. He just barrels ahead, steamrolling anyone who gets in his way or disagrees with him. His attitude seems to be just what we thought we wanted: “If I can’t do it my way, I don’t want to do it at all.”

Proving, once again, be careful what you wish for.

* If you do not understand this, Google "John Oliver" + "Drumpf"

The Mix of Politics and Teaching

I just received notice from the National Education Association (you know, that monolithic union/bastion of power bent on having its teacher members corrupt the youth of our nation with liberal ideas) that they are considering revoking my life membership. My crime? Apparently I have too many former students who have come out on Facebook as conservative in their politics.

Okay, there’s not one bit of the above paragraph that is true (and if you’ve ever seen the “herding cats” exercise that passes for a national NEA convention you already know it), although from what I’ve read over the years that misconception is seemingly widespread. I’m proud of my service in and to that organization during the first two-thirds (or so) of my career; the NEA (and AFT) advocated and fought for teachers at a time when no one else did. Teacher unions still represent the only organized voice for the teaching profession.

But that’s not the point of this piece. I would be interested in feedback from any of my formers who’d like to chime in, no matter their political leanings. I’m not sure it will matter in terms of how I will answer the question I’m posing, but I’m curious as to your thoughts. I hope that you always felt like I respected students’ opinions, no matter how wrong you were and still are.

Okay, seriously, here’s the question I’m presenting in my own meandering fashion. I will be doing a maternity leave sub job this spring (6 weeks, sophomores, mostly just regular classes, but one Advanced Placement). The subject? U.S. Government. Starting to see where I’m going here?

Government by definition has to veer into politics, especially in an election year, which 2016 finally is, even though it feels like we’ve been in an election year for over a year already. (Style note: the repetition of “year” is deliberate if questionably effective.)

I’ve never made any secret that I lean left politically. The question (“Finally!” you say) is do I tell students up front where I stand and (try to) assure them that I don’t care about their politics, only their ability to logically and rationally defend their positions? Or do I teach (as best I can) from a position of neutrality, knowing that my biases and beliefs will inevitably leak into the discussion.

I have always (well, at least since I got a clue about my craft) believed a teacher must teach who (s)he is, her/his personality and beliefs. Anything less is, again by definition, inauthentic and kids spot phonies and wishy-washies right away. My experience is that they WANT to know where you stand and don’t have a lot of tolerance for disingenuous fence-sitters.

Clearly I didn’t turn all my students into raving lunatic liberal socialists (I feel like such a failure!) even though they might think I’m in that camp. (I did have one student, very early in my career, tell me that her father thought I was a Communist; she made it clear she agreed with him. Pretty sure she didn’t become one, though.) Neither, as far as I know, did the few conservative Neanderthals/counter-revolutionaries who somehow snuck into the teaching profession turn students into wild-eyed fascists. I don’t really think it works that way.

    But I AM interested in what you think about the approach I will almost certainly take, which is to be totally upfront. I frequently tell kids, “I will never lie to you, but I may try to find a way to tell the truth that avoids bluntness or cruelty.” (“Johnny, have you considered Speed Bump as a career?” – see, I never said that, although I did create a list of “Careers for the Otherwise Useless” that I kept locked away in a drawer during my finale as Hancock’s guidance counselor, but that’s a topic for another day [if ever].)

Happy New Year (and Happy Old Ones, Too)

New Year’s Eve, 1968. Our second date. Found out, among other things, Carolyn was a good sport. Playing charades (which she hates), her song title: Don’t Let the Screen Door Hit Ya Where the Cat Bit Ya. This would have been awful even for someone who liked the game!

We are all changed, to a greater or lesser degree, by our relationships, as well as events, random or not, depending on how you view the universe. (See Ray Bradbury’s A Sound of Thunder) In my own case, I think that’s especially true (and yes, I know we ALL think we’re more unique than we really are), because, at a really immature 20, I was wandering cluelessly through my life, with no idea as to what I was or where I was going. Becoming my authentic self wasn’t even something I had even thought about, wasn’t even in my field of vision. I can’t say who I was trying to be, mostly because I didn’t really know who I was.

Lucky for me, I found a partner who only knew how to be authentic and encouraged, prodded, and supported my halting journey toward a true self. I must also credit my career as a teacher for helping me forge my path, because kids, not just Holden Caulfield, can always spot the fakes and phonies, but none of it would have been possible without that safety net of unconditional love every day I came home.

I look forward to continuing that journey, and am thankful for having had someone to hold my hand as I’ve stumbled along these past 46 years. As I’ve told so many students in the past, life is a marathon, not a sprint, and as I start to make out the involuntary finish line in (what I hope is) the distant future, the goal is to keep on going, and work hard to help others as I can, or at least not run or stumble over anyone along the way.

May 2015 be a year of growth and joy for all of us.