Monday, November 22, 2010

Holiday Blues

The scientific community has not cloned human beings yet, and I honestly don't want them to do that for a whole host of ethical and moral reasons. But today, I wish I could be in two places at once. I'm really feeling blue. I wish I could go back and enjoy the Thanksgiving feasts that my Grammie and Grampie Jenkins would host. I still remember the smell of Grammie's kitchen and the taste of the pumpkin pie she would make. Although I have gotten close to it, it's still not quite like Grammie's. I cheat with my crust (thank you Pillsbury) and she made hers from scratch. Her home would be filled with my parents and my aunt and uncle and cousins. The noise of laughter and teasing still echoes in my memory and the warmth of the hugs and kisses still keeps me warm. 

I remember that Grammie and Grampie Jenkins' home was my "happy place." I used to spend nearly every weekend with them. So, I suspect part of what is making me so blue is that I had hoped to have Thanksgiving at my parents' home for the first time in nearly 20 years and recently, life has conspired to make that impossible. Living away from your family of origin may be a fantasy for some, but for Donna and myself, it's proven very difficult. It seems to get more and more difficult with each year that goes by. My children continue to grow at an alarming pace that I refuse to believe I'm also keeping.

I think my sadness is also amplified because I wish my children had the blessing of physical proximity to their grandparents that I had to mine. I didn't realize how special that was until I had my own children. Donna and I have to play an interesting game of logistics each year to figure out how to spend time with our parents so that our families stay connected. Donna's parents live in Trinidad and mine live in Maine. So Hunter's and Skye's grandparent experience is very different from that of their parents.

Don't get me wrong. We are blessed that they talk to them and see them as regularly as time and money allow. However, following through on that spontaneous urge to jump in the car and see Bampy and Mimi or Granny and Grandad can't really be spontaneous at all. So, I'm trying to stay positive by focusing on how blessed we are to have the extended family we've created with other families in town whose parents live away.

For me, that extended family is a lifeline and a priceless gift. Recently, Deppy, Jen, Cyndi and Anna jumped right in to help as a recent crisis found me in the hospital and Donna home with two children over a weekend. Without their support, I don't know how thing would have turned out. And in October, we welcomed our Yaya to Bergenfield, since Deppy's mom Betty moved here from Greece. She's adopted all of our children as her own. And we have our dear friends Madelene and Noemi, whom our children know as their Godmothers Drina and Titi, who round out our happy family. We have so many blessings, so my prayer over our table this year will include them all and a special request to our Dear Lord that he watches over my Mama and Daddy and my brothers Tony, Chad and Jeremy and their families and Donna's Mommy and Daddy and brother Terrence. May He smile on us all and help us feel the love despite the miles that separate us.

So, I'll close with this request of my readers: for all of you who have parents living just down the street or a short drive away, give them an extra hug the next time you see them. Never take it for granted and remember how blessed you are. To steal a classic line from Dickens, "God bless us, every one!"

Saturday, November 20, 2010

"You love each other the same, you just love each other differently."

It's the evening before my lovely wife's 47th birthday and I am reflecting on the title of this entry. It was spoken a few days ago by my older-than-his-years nine year old son, Hunter. It happened yesterday, on the way to my doctor's appointment. Donna and I were engaged in our usual playful debate.

It started with me saying, "I love you."

She replied, "I love you more."

I said, "That's doubtful, but it's a good thing we have the rest of lives to see who wins."

Donna turned to Hunter, who was playing his DS, and asked "Hunter, who do you think loves more? Me or your mother?"

Hunter didn't miss a beat and said, "You love each other same, you just love each other differently."

That profound bit of wisdom fell so easily off his lips and I don't think he understood how astounded Donna and I were with the depth of his quick response. I am still astounded by his insight. I think to myself about all the therapy couples go through because they are blind to the love that's right in front of them, because they need to see it expressed in obvious ways. So often, the love is right there, but because it's expressed differently, they don't recognize it.

Donna has loved me fiercely. She has loved me through my own bouts of self-doubt and feeling unworthy of love. She has loved me through thick and thin and she has loved me through crises that most others would have felt justified leaving over. We have lived through a lot in ten years and as we now walk into our second decade together, she remains steadfast, loyal and strong. She believes in us.

I know she believes because years ago, she used to wonder out loud if I would stay. I haven't heard that in more than a year, so I think she finally does believe that I don't want to be anywhere else. And I honestly don't. She grounds me. And she pulls me out of myself when I think too much. She makes me laugh at life when I want to scream in frustration and she helps me feel worthy of all the good that comes our way. She keeps me strong when I want to give up trying so hard and she makes it all feel effortless.

I love my wife and although I may not show up with flowers and candy everyday, I promise I will show up to spend every day of my life with her. As we raise our children together, I do it with a full and open heart, knowing that they will grow up and create lives of their own and we will be left in a very quiet home, but what will remain is the desire to spend each chapter of our life together.

So, my sweet Donna, I don't love you more, I love you differently. Happy Birthday. I love you. "Vous et nul aultre. . . . "

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

"So Long for Now"

When it comes to my children,  I only want the best, just as any parent would. When we enrolled Hunter in his elementary school, we felt we had hit the jackpot. That was nearly six years ago and started a beautiful partnership with teachers and educators who truly represent the best of our public school system. At the helm of his school was the most dynamic, thoughtful, qualified and accomplished principal I have had the pleasure of knowing.

Today, I learned that Mr. Beattie will be moving on to another chapter of his career by accepting the position of Superintendent of Schools in another school district. I am heartbroken. I understand his decision, made largely because of the continued oppression that our Governor is inflicting on our public school system. If he were not to make this move, his own family's future plans would be in jeopardy.

However, my understanding does not bring me any comfort in knowing that my little girl, who is less than a year away from kindergarten, will not have the same strong but gentle influence that our son has enjoyed under Mr. Beattie's leadership. I haven't had the heart to break the news to her. She is always thrilled to see Mr. Beattie as we drop her brother off at school each morning.

As two moms, we tend to bond even more strongly with strong, open-minded men who are progressive enough to know that strong, loving families are not defined solely by traditional standards. Hunter has such a positive role model in Mr. Beattie and since starting school has wanted to emulate this wonderful man.

We have never felt excluded from opportunities to get involved in our son's school. At Mr. Beattie's invitation, I sit on the Partnership in Education committee and Donna and I are often volunteering in the classroom. We have never questioned that Hunter is in the best possible hands. And Hunter has felt open and comfortable enough to joyfully share that he has two moms. When we had our Civil Union two years ago, children and teachers a like were congratulating us, because Hunter was so excited that his moms were getting married. Mr. Beattie set the tone and created that open, inclusive atmosphere.

Mr. Beattie, you will be missed and I only hope that Skye has the same strong leadership in place when she starts her elementary school career.What I know for sure is that you will positively influence the lives of thousands of children and their families in your new post. What I also know for sure is that you have made an indelible impression in Hunter's life and for that, we have been blessed. Know that we keep you close in our thoughts and prayers.

I refuse to say goodbye, so as you said in your announcement, "so long for now."

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

A Soldier's View

One of my dear friends serves in the army and recently shared his view on gays in the military. As he puts it, “I don't care who the person is... as long as they're shooting in the same direction as me.”

My brother serves in the Coast Guard and his opinions are very similar as those of my friend. Ultimately, they don't care what the orientation of the person they are serving with is; they simply want a dependable, brave battle buddy to watch their backs.

I have the utmost respect for both of those men, and for the military in general. They demonstrate such patriotism and bravery and throughout our country's history, and indeed, the history of the world, we have needed military protection.

Both of my grandfathers served with honor; my mother's father in WWII and my father's father in the Korean War. Now, my nine year old son is intrigued by war and all things military. My heart breaks because all of them are such gentle souls, yet their nobility has driven them to places harsh and unforgiving. My prayer for them all is that one day, war will become obsolete. As a mother, the last thing I want to see is anyone's child in harm's way. I also despair at the thought that some of our children who are now soldiers have had to defend themselves by taking another's life. As they put it, "Kill or be killed."
 
I've never served because the military didn't allow gays to serve when I was considering my post- high school options. I could have used the assistance in paying for college and in buying my first home. I would have gladly served my country and perhaps even made a career of my service, but I knew I was lesbian and I also knew that I would have had to hide that during my service. Even after Don't Ask, Don't Tell was implemented, it became a requirement to keep that fundamental part of who you were under wraps. I couldn't then and still can't reconcile the double standard that allows heterosexual servicemen and women to talk about their families while homosexual servicemen and women are expected to become asexual beings or to be inauthentic about who they are.


It seems that every country glorifies war, and makes it a badge of honor for young men and women to aspire towards service. I don't dispute for an instant that it is an honorable calling to defend our country and to spread the promise of democracy and the belief that all men and women are fundamentally entitled to pursue happiness without the interference of government or harassment based on ethnicity, race, or gender. I simply ask that our politicians remember that honor and integrity transcends our differences. Give our soldiers more credit and understand that like any other subculture, soldiers simply represent the same diversity of thought that our greater culture demonstrates. So, let's continue to grow in our collective ability to embrace, not just accept, our differences.

I fervently pray that one day diplomacy will trump the need to go to war. I hold out hope that debate and a mutual desire to understand one another's humanity will drive us to drop our guns and lift our consciousness. And I recognize and appreciate that the higher consciousness would have been built on the bloodshed of our forefathers and mothers. So, to all those soldiers out there, thank you. I appreciate your protection of the rights I enjoy as American; the right to freedom of speech ranking pretty high on that list.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

War and Peace

My son Hunter is the gentlest boy I've ever met. He's a nature lover and concerned about our planet's health. He's compassionate, intuitive and always considers other people's feelings. He's respectful and gets visibly upset if someone he cares about is unhappy. So, it's been rather intriguing to watch him fall in love with Call of Duty (the appropriately rated version),where he has demonstrated how much he enjoys blowing things up and shooting people.

What fascinates me is that he revels in it! It's one of his favorite past times. How can such a gentle soul show such overt aggression? Is it a visceral reaction that is triggered by y-chromosomes? Or, is it a simple coping mechanism that becomes a release for anger and frustration ? If it's the latter, then sign me up!

I am also a gentle soul (you may want to check with my wife on the accuracy of that statement), but there are plenty of occasions when I'd like to go "Rambo" on some of the people I interact with. However, I'm very clear in my adult mind that my fantasy about shooting up a place is just that: fantasy. It's not something I'd ever follow through on. Donna and I make sure that we are talking to Hunter regularly about how what he sees and does in a video game is far different than what should be done in real life. Hunter is clear on that, but far too many children are not.

Understand, I would never blame the senseless school and workplace shootings that have plagued our Nation on an overdose of gaming. However, I would say that in some cases, children are ONLY getting guidance from wii systems and television shows. And that sad fact disturbs me. I think we have to remember that some parents are not around because they must work long hours to support their children. It's not a matter of neglect, it's a matter of necessity. But, I do think that when parents are present, we must seize every opportunity to call out how precious life is.

I remember growing up with Looney Tunes on Saturday mornings. I can't count the number of times Wiley Coyote was decimated in the span of 30 minutes, but that didn't translate to delusions of invincibility in which I thought it would be safe to jump off a cliff or stare into the barrel of a gun to see why it wouldn't shoot.

We have to find ways to bring balance into our children's lives so they can enjoy Nerf guns and video games without fear of acting out those activities in real life. As I see my son move through the world, I'm convinced he knows how precious life is. I am reminded of his peaceful predisposition each time he'd rather go on a walk, ride his bike, or hike in the woods than sit in front of his Wii or TV. When I hear from his teachers how thoughtfully he helps younger students with reading or math problems, I know  his priorities fall in line with ours. Each time he hugs his sister, cuddles with me, or rubs Donna's feet after she gets home from work shows me that he has respect and reverence for life.

So, I'll let Hunter continue to wage war in his "man cave" (our family room in the basement) because I know when he finishes and opens the door to join us, he's living for peace.

Monday, November 1, 2010

My Journey to Motherhood

Unlike many women, when I was a little girl, I didn't dream of being a mother someday. My dreams took me to far off places where I could pretend to be someone other than who I was. I would escape to places that brought me out of rural Maine, out of the closet, out of my uncomfortable skin. I knew I was different, and knew I didn't feel that I belonged.

So, I left. I left rural Maine and moved to Central New York. I attended Utica College of Syracuse University for two years and dropped out because I couldn't afford the tuition. So, I worked for two years and then decided I couldn't go anywhere I really wanted to unless I finished my degree. I completed it at SUNYIT. During that period of my life, I traveled many paths trying to find a place that I belonged.

My journeys took me on quite the adventure. I met so many interesting people along my way. Those people each hold a page in the passport that represents my life. I learned a lot from each of them. I learned what falling in love feels like, and what a broken heart feels like. I learned how to love, how to hurt, how to be good and how to be bad. I learned many things and the most important lesson I learned was that no matter where I went, no matter whom I was with, and no matter where I worked, I was still me.

I decided to slow down a bit and get to know myself better at about the same time I met my wife. She, unlike me, always knew she would grow up and have a little boy someday. When I fell in love with Donna, I started to fall in love with the idea of parenthood too.

Suddenly, the idea of parenthood became a reality when we found ourselves expecting a baby. Imagine my joy when I learned Donna was pregnant. What fascinated me about my personal reaction was that within a moment of learning Donna was pregnant; my entire brain seemed to rewire itself for motherhood. I could almost feel it happening. Suddenly, everything was about our baby. I couldn’t wait to meet him.

Yes, Donna’s prediction was right; she would have a boy and what a boy he is. He is so handsome, and smart, and funny! He’s a chip off his mother’s block. His big blue eyes fixed on me the moment he was born and I knew that he could see my soul, even if he couldn’t see much beyond a foot or so in front of him. He touched my heart in a way no other person had, and he taught me how to be a good mom.

His sister has reinforced those lessons and has taught me how to love myself, as well as her. It’s been interesting having a girl. Something visceral woke up when I looked into her eyes. She holds an invisible mirror up each time I look into her beautiful eyes, which look so much like my mother’s. I understood when I looked at her, why my mother loves us all so fiercely. Skye helped me feel closer than ever to my mother. In a strange way, loving her has helped me to love the child I never felt comfortable with: Me.

My own self-acceptance was a gift to myself and my children helped to wrap that gift in the most beautiful wrapping ever. And now, not only do I feel really comfortable in my own skin, but my family senses that comfort and they are better for it, too.

So, motherhood is magic. It’s so simple, it’s profound. I finally found a place that I belong. It smells like baby shampoo and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. It feels like legos and story books and it sounds like lullabies and laughter. It looks like a nine year old curly-haired boy and a four year old blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl and two loving parents who adore them.

Hunter and Skye have proven to be my compass and have brought me home, where I belong.

How Much are You Worth?

How much are you worth?

It's an interesting time we live in. We're all hearing news about how our economy is struggling and no doubt, we feel it at home. Whether it's manifested itself in how often you go to the movies or how much you spend on groceries, whether you'll get that extra medical test or chance it for another year, whether you'll buy those eyeglasses or get your car serviced, everyone feels it. Some people feel it more than others of course.

Those people are waiting in an unemployment line, praying that they find work before their separation pay runs out. They may also be in line at a soup kitchen, waiting for the only meal they'll have that day. Or, they may be waiting for the shoe to drop, waiting to be next in those situations. How many of us are one paycheck away from that soup kitchen? One medical emergency away from having to avoid bill collectors? One fiscal quarter away from rising to the top of a layoff list?

The stress we are under makes me wonder how much are we worth? And can we afford to only measure it in US currency? As I sit and watch my two children grow up, I reflect on how little I have in savings and pray that eventually, I'll catch up. I used to love watching Suze Orman, because I felt like her game plans were things that I could actually follow. Now, I wonder, and I've stopped watching her. It's too discouraging!

I'm not advocating putting your head in the sand and avoiding your own special reality, but I am saying that if we get too caught up in how much we are worth by looking a bank statement, then we miss out on the true value we bring to this world. I wonder how many people sit up at night hoping desperately that they can actually make it to retirement and actually retire? More tragically, how many have done the math and walk around wondering how they can cash in on their life insurance policies so at least their families can be comfortable? Let's make sure we shake them back into looking at the whole person, and the intangible, priceless ways they bring value to the world.

We need to take care of each other more and work on the soft skills. Let's remember to take the time to tell the people we love that we do love them and WHY. Imagine how profound it would be to tell your Dad that you appreciate the countless years of sacrifice because he taught you that despite the struggles, just being there at the dinner table every night gave you a sense of security that is priceless. Or how touched your Mom would be if you told her that your safe place is a memory of laying your head in her lap and having her rub your head while you watched PBS television? Wthout her sacrifice of staying home, that memory wouldn't exist. Or how validated your spouse would be when she knew you appreciated the early hour she leaves each day so you can keep to a very strict budget?

For myself, I pray I can rub my children's heads often enough to give them that lifelong safe place. I also pray I can keep this home safe and sound for them. I pray that I can remember that despite the struggles I deal with, I still have a roof over my family's head. I pray that I remember God will find a way and will provide all that we NEED, and I should stop worrying and start trusting. I pray that I remember that if I work hard WITH my wife, these years of seemingly endless struggle will feel like five minutes at the end of a long and happy life together.

So suddenly, just reading this piece, I feel better already. So, let's be good to each other everyone, and even more so, let's be good to ourselves, because it's our own voice we hear in our head, keeping us up at night. And that voice should be confident and uplifting and full of hope rather than critical and demoralizing. If we love ourselves as fiercely as we love our families, the power we unleash will amaze us.

May God bless us all with peace and serenity, love and abundance and wealth and prosperity.

A Letter to My Younger Self

Hi, everyone. I wanted to share a really neat project you. As part of Gay Pride month, IBM asked its GLBT employees to write a letter to their younger selves. Here's mine:

Miss Stacy Graffam
Snow’s Corner Road
Orrington, ME 04474

June 2010

Dear Stacy,

You are so loved by your mother and father and three younger brothers. I know you know this, but I want to let you also know that you DESERVE this love. I know you are afraid of letting your loved ones know who you already know you are because you think they’ll stop loving you. Being a lesbian is not easy and it seems like the heaviest burden right now. I understand that you are working so hard to do all the right things and be what everyone believes a young woman should be.

Whether or not you know this, you will develop a strong intuition about what is expected and it will help you navigate a road to success. Learning how to hide your personal truth will interestingly enough, help you see the world from different perspectives and will help you understand and leverage all the diversity around you to develop strong teams to solve big problems together in a corporate world that seems worlds away from your first job picking corn, strawberries and peas at Wiswell Farm.

In Junior High School, it will be very hard to hear the jokes about Charles Howard, the young man who was killed in Downtown Bangor because he was gay. You’ll hear it constantly being told by your friends: “What do the Penobscot Indians call the bridge in Downtown Bangor?” “Chuck-a-Homo.”

You’ll understand in your core that the jokes are bigoted and racist. As a young 12-year old girl, you may not be able to articulate what “bigoted” and “racist” attitudes can manifest, but it will serve you well in your life to listen to that voice inside that tells you those things are not funny. Those jokes are hurtful and wrong and foster hate and unspeakable behaviors from some people who are steeped in ignorance and fear.

That realization you were born with and the courage you will find when you go to college will help you stand up to racism, bigotry, and sexism. You will discover that you no longer have to hide your true self and that by being authentic, you will feel more love and acceptance than you ever dreamed about. And by finding this happiness, you will become so productive and effective as a leader at IBM.

Now, it won’t be easy, and it will be hard to understand some of your loved one’s reactions when you finally do come out, but you have to remember you sat with your truth for years and it will also take them time to understand that you’re not mentally ill, just different. Eventually, they will share your joy as you build a family with your spouse, a wild and crazy Caribbean woman from Trinidad. You and she will be blessed with a little boy and a little girl who help you understand all the visceral feelings that drive parents to do and say the things that make you crazy right now.

Just believe in yourself and the talent and drive that you were blessed with. You’ll look back in your life and harbor some regret about not pursuing a life in the ministry, but you’ll also come to understand that live is full of opportunity and after you’ve had fun in corporate America, you can still achieve those dreams of becoming a professor of world religions and getting ordained.

For now, cherish the simplicity and joy of being a child and hold on to those precious memories with your family and friends. Those fond memories will become the “happy place” you retreat to momentarily when the responsibilities of adulthood are just too much. And, that adult you become will need to find the child you are now to remind her that the world is full of goodness as long as we keep our faith and believe.

With so much love and tenderness,



Stacy