"Marriage isn't about the dance and the dress, Honey."

As I was helping Skye dry off after a bath this evening, I gave her a big hug and kiss and she looked into my eyes and said, "Marry me."

It was adorable, and I know the love that came from that marriage proposal was pure. And thus presented a teaching moment about different kinds of love. I told her that mothers and daughters can't marry each other. She looked very sad and asked why. I explained that people who are related to each other, can't marry each other. I told her she'd grow up someday and find the person she was meant to marry if she decided she wanted to be married.

"I want to be married!" She exclaimed passionately. I asked her why.

"Because I want to dance." Her answer had such resolve and she said it with a certainty that defied anyone to challenge it.

I told her, "Marriage isn't about the dance and the dress, Honey."

I'll explain to her what that means later, when she can better grasp the concept.

Marriage is not about the dance and the dress; although, many people do compare marriage to a dance. It is intricate, the give and the take, deciding who will lead and learning whether or not you have rhythm. Thank goodness Donna overlooked my lack of rhythm. In that regard, I perfectly represent the stereotype that white people don't have rhythm.

The dance gets very complicated over time and can become very dark, as the couple moves through the worse part, or the sick part, or the poorer part of their vows to one another. At other times, the joy of sharing a life with someone is so profound we haven't yet invented the right words to describe it, and it's those times when we're so enraptured with our loved one that keep us standing up during the dark periods.


Being part of a family has helped keep my innate depression at bay. I have periods when the dark void of depression beckons me to fall into its despair and it's only the love and responsibility I have for my family that strengthens me. Fortunately, that whisper of depression doesn't show up often and my wife and kids are the best form of anti-depressant. I completely understand how some legitimately have a need for anti-depressants (I had to take them at one point in my 20s), so don't get me wrong. More recently, I have found that a dose of Donna-Mae is the best medicine for me.

So, I thank Donna-Mae for the wonderful dance and I hope that someday as Skye better understands the kinds of love that are out there that she'll chose a partner as perfect for her as I have found for me.

Happy Birthday to Jesus

Christmas is a magical time of the year for most people, especially children. For our children, we decided to start a new tradition to drive home the real meaning of Christmas. So, to help Hunter and Skye understand that the holiday is more than how many cool presents they will receive and is really about renewed hope and love, we decided to have a birthday party for Jesus on Christmas.

Skye is particularly excited about this and is convinced that Jesus must also be five years old. For simplicity's sake, I'm not going to explain that He's part of a Trinity that has been here forever. So, I'll let her imagine that Jesus is turning five.

As a Christian, and now as a parent, I wonder what Jesus' childhood was like. We don't know a lot, except for the Gospel telling us of His birth and about His teaching the Rabbis in the temple when He was twelve years old. The next time we meet Him, He's thirty years old and starting His ministry, which lasted a brief three years until His crucifixion. 

I wonder what kind of child He was. What did Mary and Joseph witness as he grew up with his brothers in Jerusalem? Did He squabble with them as children are prone to do? Was He introspective, or outgoing? Was he athletic or artistic? As a young man learning his earthly father's carpentry skills, he was an artisan. When I think about it now, I don't doubt that He was any less precious than our own children are. As a matter of fact, I think part of the appeal of Jesus' life being so mysterious is that it allows us to relate more to Him, because who's to say He didn't feel the same things we do? I'm convinced He did.

For years as I was growing up, I thought that my sexual orientation negated having a relationship with Jesus. That became my cross to bear and for years it ate at me like a cancer. We learn as Christians that all of us are born sinners. It never made sense to me that a child could have sinned. As I grew more aware of my orientation, I began to believe that my sin was my sexual orientation.

I think that's why O Holy Night is my favorite Christmas song. I've always found great inspiration in these profound lyrics, "Long lay the world, in sin and error pining, 'til He appeared and the soul felt its worth.  A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn."

Through the grace of God, I know that my divinity is as priceless as any other person's. I believe that divinity is inherent in being human. All of us are divine creatures, regardless of our chosen faith. So, as my family celebrates Christmas, and we blow out the candles on Jesus' cake, we will say a prayer that the hope and faith we carry with us as we move through the world makes a positive difference in other people's lives. 

"If you wait until I'm 18, I'll marry you."

Hunter is a very precocious young man in many ways. He's got an emotional intelligence that is off the charts. He's perceptive to the point of being psychic and he's got incredible good looks and charm. Add to that his smarts, and he's unstoppable. He already has young women lining up to capture his attention. Can't tell I'm biased at all, can you?

I share all of that to help anyone reading this understand how protective both Donna and I are over his heart. He wears it on his sleeve and can be brought to devastation to think that anyone would take advantage of his kindness. He's also very courageous, because he proudly shares that he has two moms. He's as comfortable telling his classmates and teachers that we're gay as he is telling them we have brown hair. And because he's so matter of fact about it, it's not an issue used against him or us. I've been watching him lately and can't help but be fascinated by the direction his heart is leading him.

The quickest way to Hunter's heart is to demonstrate a serenity and calm that he can retreat to in the midst of the chaos he sometimes feels around him. Two of the girls in his school circle are already very adept at staying calm, cool, and collected. Those are the two girls he confesses to me he can't choose between when he thinks about picking a girlfriend. When I ask him to explain what he likes about the girls in question, the first attribute he mentions is that "they're very calm." I'm indescribably proud of his self-awareness and his ability to understand character trumps physical beauty. Of course, he's still very much drawn to beauty, as the girls he chooses illustrate.

So, imagine my reaction when his homeroom teacher, Ms. Karabin, told me he had proposed marriage to her last week. Ms. Karabin has always held a special place in his heart. When he was in second grade, he would get to participate in Ms. Karabin's 5th Grade science class as a reward. So, she has been in his world for half of his school career. Ms. Karabin said his proposal went like this:

"Ms. Karabin, are you married?"

"No, Hunter, but I'd like to be someday."

Hunter thought a moment and then said, "Well, if you wait until I'm 18, I'll marry you."

How sweet is that? Ms. Karabin is one of the most gifted teachers I've met. In addition to being very accomplished academically, she's also student-centric in her thinking. I love how she keeps the needs of each of her students foremost in her approach to their learning. I also like the firm but fair approach she uses in her teaching style. Hunter has always shared how he loves how calm she is. And recently, when I asked him about his proposal, he repeated all of what I just shared and then added, "and she's hot."

Clearly, my son has great taste. It gives Donna and me tremendous comfort to know that he's drawn to women who have equal if not more character as they do outward beauty. I pray that his priorities remain this way so that as our family grows, it will do so not only in numbers, but also in character. Although I hope not to be planning a wedding in eight years, I do know that when we are planning his, it will be done with great joy.

"Have I ever said anything bad about gay people?"

My faith is being tested.

On Sunday morning, the Reverend Robert T. Carlson, my childhood hero and pastor of my church was found dead in the Penobscot River. Mr. C., as I knew him, was the pastor of East Orrington Congregational Church for 25 years. He started when I nine years old, shortly after my family moved to Orrington. He was bigger than life.

He was a leader in the Greater Bangor area. He was the chaplain of the Bangor and Brewer police and fire departments, he was a hostage negotiator, and president of Penobscot Community Healthcare, an organization that served those who could not afford medical care. He and his wife of 43 years had just been honored by the Katahdin Area Council of Boy Scouts of America on November 9th when it held its 15th annual Distinguished Citizen Award Dinner. He had also counseled people from committing suicide. Ironically, that's how it appears he died, at his own hands. It's baffling and for those who knew him, completely out of character for someone who lived his faith and literally practiced what he preached.

I remember coming out to Pastor Bob the summer after my freshman year of college. I was in tears, petrified to disappoint him. This man inspired me to want to become a pastor someday and I didn't think that was possible because I thought being gay would negate my ability to minister to people. He put his arms around me and asked, "Stacy, have you ever heard me say anything bad about gay people?" It suddenly dawned on me that he hadn't. Never had I heard him use his pulpit to promote bigotry or prejudice. What I remember is unconditional love and support. That's the Bob Carlson I knew. And it's the Bob Carlson that thousands of other people knew as well.

I'm very angry and devastated at the scandal that has erupted since his death. Apparently, he was under investigation by the Maine State Police before he was found dead in the Penobscot River on Sunday. He was being investigated for a child sex abuse case that had happened in the 1970s. I have a hard time even writing those words, since I don't believe he did it. Call me naive, but I believe the accusations are being made out of spite by someone close to him who struggled with addiction. If it's the person I have in mind, I know that Bob considered him a son. To be betrayed in that way by someone he loved so much is the only thing I can imagine would cause him to take his own life.

Now, as I cling to my faith and pray for closure on this issue, I remember the profession of faith East Orrington Congregational Church held so dear: Time, Trust and Thankfulness. The three T's.  I will cherish all three and the countless lessons he shared with the greater Bangor area.

I love you Mr. C. God bless you and keep you safe in His arms.

You need to provide an affidavit.

As I was reviewing the changes in benefits during our annual enrollment period, I noticed that Donna suddenly appeared as an ineligible dependent. Given that she's been listed as a dependent since I joined IBM in 2002, I placed a call to our Employee Service Center (ESC) to find out why her status had changed. I explained that Donna had been an eligible dependent for years and was curious why she was listed as ineligible.

The specialist explained that I needed to send in an affidavit of Domestic Partnership. That direction didn't sound right, and I asked why they would need that since we were in a civil union now and were as married as we could be in the State of New Jersey. I also explained that we had already provided one in 2002. She explained that according to her protocol, a domestic partnership affidavit was required for all same sex couples and they didn't have anything on file.

So, although I was fuming at the inequity of the situation, on November 8th I printed out the affidavit, Donna and I signed it, and had it notarized (again, given we had done it in 2002). To hedge our bets, I included a copy of our Civil Union certificate (our Civil Union was done in December of 2008), so that I could make sure we covered all of our bases.

Personally, I felt like I needed to pull a Norma Rae-style protest and ask if IBM required all of their married employees to submit their marriage licenses. The informal poll I took amongst my married friends indicated they did not.

I checked our benefits website again today, and still saw her listed as ineligible. I took a deep breath and called the ESC again.  The gentleman I spoke to was great. He looked into my records,saw that Donna had been covered for years and also looked deeper into the affidavit and saw that if we lived in a state that allowed same sex marriage or its equivalent (i.e. Civil Union), we did not need the affidavit. He further explained that it was not IBM policy to provide the affidavit, but that it was required for tax purposes by the  IRS. It was also required of opposite sex couples who had a registered domestic partnership. I was able to exhale when I heard that.

I've been so proud to be an IBMer since being acquired through the PwC Consulting buyout. I love their diversity history of doing the right thing before it was ever legislated. We have a rich heritage of being inclusive and progressive in our benefits and definition of family. So, those weeks between my calls to the ESC shook my faith in IBM's integrity. I'm glad it was restored today.

I wish my faith in our country could be so quickly restored. I am flabbergasted that not only are we continuing to debate the legitimacy of same sex marriage, but we are actually trying to legislate inequity by not allowing it in some states. As I look at my wife and our two children and think about the way we have lived "for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part" for more than 11 years, it baffles me that we are not afforded the same rights and privileges of marriage that our heterosexual peers enjoy.

If any lawmakers are reading this, I'd like them to consider having to sign an affidavit to legitimize their family. I bet anyone would be offended at the implication that their relationship isn't real until some stranger notarizes it.

Donna and I will have a blow out party when we can be legally MARRIED without having to leave the state in which we have built our family and put down roots. Our love is not a choice. . . it's what God intended. I can't wait for the United States of America to acknowledge that.

I must have invented stupid.

This morning, I was making breakfast for Skye when she was showing me different drawings she was creating on a scratch pad that Donna had brought from the zoo. It had a bunny on the frame and she was "sending things to the bunny." She asked me to look at each of her creations, and whether I asked her what the drawings were or guessed wrong, she looked incredulous that I was unable to see what she had drawn. She would say "No, mama! That's a mail box!" when I had wondered out loud if it was a house.

She had me believing that I must have invented stupid. The exasperation with which she kept correcting me made the game mercifully short, but it got me wondering about my temperamental artist. Is patience learned or innate? I know I find myself at my wit's end when I have to answer the same question several times or pick up the same toys from the same spot or correct the same behavior over and over again. So, perhaps the question should be, "Is impatience learned or innate?" If I look at myself closely, I think it must be learned.

It's no wonder children shut down and stop trying, if the way Skye's reactions to what she perceived as my utter stupidity are simply a reflection of my parenting style.

I told Donna recently that I've felt incredibly fragmented trying to balance work with the kids' needs and my volunteering at the school and my desire to keep writing and finding ways to make ends meet in Northern NJ. At the end of the day, I don't even know how to spell my name. I think my plate is so full that it propels me into a manic space where I don't have the patience to stop for one minute to answer Skye's questions and foster her natural curiosity, not to mention our relationship. It's not only affecting my relationship with the children. It's also affecting my relationship with my wife.

My best friend reminded me that I need to stop and open my eyes up to the simple joys of life, rather than surrender to the crushing stress that so many of us live with. So, I'll remember to look people in the eye and thank them when they open a door for me. I'll also remember to find ways of being kind to everyone I meet, maybe even being kinder than necessary, because their private battles may be more profound than I could imagine.

So, rather than feel like I invented stupid, I'm going to take a wake up call from my wife and children and find a way to invent serenity. And, I don't even think it's a matter of clearing my plate, because the things on it are truly blessings. I think it's as simple as realizing that my plate overflows with blessings and to honor and respect them as such.

It's funny, as I finish this piece, I feel better already.

"You guys will love me even if I do something really bad, right?"

Before Hunter went to bed the other night, he crawled between Donna and me and asked, "You guys will still love me even if I did something really bad, right?" He was fighting tears as he waited for our reassurance.

Once he had it from both of us, he admitted that when he had two of his best buddies over for the weekend of his birthday, they were bragging about different websites they had seen which have some pretty questionable content. What he described was nothing like pornography (Thank God!), but more along the lines of Jackass-style shorts. He tried to explain that he felt like a baby because he knew we would not approve of the content of the sites, so he hadn't seen them.

I tried to explain that sometimes guys exaggerate about what they've done or seen to seem cool. He wasn't buying it. Donna tried to explain that both of the boys in question have older brothers, so they would have been more likely to be exposed to things like that. He wasn't having that, either. He insisted that he needed more "guy time."

That always hits a sore spot with me. Neither Donna nor I can fulfill that craving. It's our Achilles heel. As much as we have strong men in his circle, none of them live with us and they each have family and careers that they juggle. They often include Hunter, but not frequently enough for his liking. Add to that, both Donna's brother and my brothers live in different parts of the world, and his Godfather lives in Florida and is adjusting to being a new Dad, so I think Hunter's feeling lost in a sea of estrogen.

He's such a good boy and he's growing into a such a strong young man. Ten years old is the new 14. It's fraught with messages of dating and independence so close he can barely take it. I know he's trying to maintain a strong code of integrity and honor while also trying to fit in with the guys. I can't imagine how frustrating and lonely he must be at times.

My hope is that his belief we will love him no matter what will help him navigate the choppy waters ahead of him right now. Whether or not he realizes it, Hunter is one of my heroes. He's very comfortable telling his friends he has two moms and he's willingly stepping into leadership roles, having signed up as a "Safety" at his school. That means he's in charge of the kindergarten class and helps the kindergarten teachers line them up and corral them until schools starts and ends. He's a great role model.

Somehow, he's demonstrating that being a good man is more about character than testosterone and I couldn't be prouder of the person he is and the man he's growing into. So, although I wish I could put the brakes on as he catapults towards puberty, I will trust that he has the common sense to navigate the world in a manner that allows him to maintain his integrity.

"Mama, I'm still five and a girl, right?"

Lately, Skye has been asking daily, "Mama, I'm still five and I'm a girl, right?" Although it's starting to get a bit annoying, it made me think about how deeply our identity is tied to our gender.

Skye is thrilled to be a girl. She loves shoes and bags and dresses and outfits. She came down to have dinner yesterday dressed in a princess gown, armed with her magic wand. Her favorite colors are pink and purple and her favorite movie is Princess and Frog. She loves being a girl. She's even gotten me to embrace my inner-girl and add a lot of pink to my wardrobe.

So, I have been watching Dancing with the Stars this season because I am fascinated by Chaz Bono's story. He is an inspiration and has shed so much light on what it means to be transgendered. Because his famous parents, who are music legends, he's had to do this with an international spotlight shining on his every decision. I've followed him since last year when the documentary which captured his transition was released. At that time, he was still in the early stages of his transition and was struggling with people's varied reactions to his choices, especially his mom's reaction. Now, he seems to be joyful and fully authentic. I think Cher's reaction last week on DWTS mirrored the joy that so many of us are feeling on his behalf.

I am blessed to have been given a body that mirrors my gender identity. I may be critical of the extra pounds on my frame, but I don't have to go through hormone treatments and surgeries to get my physical body to match my gender identity. I can't imagine how frustrating it must be for the millions of transgendered people in the world today, who feel imprisoned in a body that doesn't match their identity.

I'm also blessed that both of our children are blessed with bodies that reflect their identities. Although gender falls on a spectrum, there is no doubt that Hunter is happy being a boy and Skye is happy being a girl. I only wish that Chaz didn't have to wait until he was 40 before he felt at home with himself. I hope that the joy he feels now is abundant enough to compensate for the years of feeling trapped. I'm incredibly proud of him and hope that his inspiration begins to chip away at society's ignorance surrounding gender identity and expression.

Happy Anniversary

Today is the anniversary of Out in Suburbia. I'm so proud of how wide-reaching my posts have become. My hope is that its message has positively influenced my readers, both gay and straight. Many of you already know that Tyler Clementi was the inspiration for this blog.

Sadly, others like Tyler continue to inspire me to keep spreading my message. In 2006, 14-year old Megan Meiers ended her life after a boy she befriended online began harassing her. The two exchanged messages, ending with Josh telling Megan the world would be better off without her. After Megan’s death, her parents discovered Josh Evans was a character fabricated by 46-year-old Lori Drew, the mother of a former friend of Megan. Drew lived four houses down the street from the Meiers.

New bullying statistics for 2010 reveal about one in seven students in grades kindergarten through 12th grade is either a bully or has been a victim of bullying. Tragically, suicide continues to be one of the leading causes of death among children under the age of 14. Suicide rates are continuing to grow among adolescents, and have grown more than 50 percent in the past 30 years. Cyber bullying can be very damaging to adolescents and teens. It can lead to anxiety, depression, and even suicide.

As recently as last month, Jamey Rodemeyer, a 14-year-old Buffalo, NY-area teen killed himself after enduring years of bullying over his homosexuality. Clearly, there still areas of our country and this world where being gay is not okay. What breaks my heart is that these suicide victims believe death is their only escape.

That's why I'm proud to have been asked by my children's school to serve as the parent representative of the Safety Team, a group of administrators, teachers and our school psychologist and guidance counselor put in place to prevent bullying. I've spent this week in the school kicking off New Jersey's Week of Respect by sharing lesson plans jointly developed by my employer, IBM, and GLSEN, the Gay, Lesbian, Straight Education Network. The lessons pivot around respecting one another's differences and finding ways to prevent bullying. Programs like this and other efforts that New Jersey is making to create safe places for our children will model the way for other schools so that nationwide, our children feel like they have other ways to cope and make things better.


I encourage my readers to find ways they can contribute to their own communities to make their children's experiences safer and more accepting. If you are already doing things to make a difference, please share your good works, so we can all benefit and borrow from each other's service. We can't afford to turn an eye or think that since these suicides are happening elsewhere, it doesn't matter. Every life matters and every life lost has tragic consequences that simply cannot be measured.

So, I look forward to the day when I can share good news stories about lives being made richer and more joyful instead of  tragic examples that show we still have so much more to do.

"Enjoy Dinner with your Wife."

My wife's dinner cravings result in my being in any number of places on a Saturday night collecting her meal du jour. This past Saturday, it resulted in my being at Blue Moon Cafe to pick up something Mexican. I went directly to the bar to order her meal and as I placed my order with the waitress, she asked me if I liked my guacamole spicy or regular. I told her that the guacamole was for my wife, not me. She smiled and without skipping a beat, she suggested we play it safe and go with the regular. Then, she put a Corona Light in front of me while I watched the post season game between Tampa Bay and Texas. 

I was enjoying my drink when an elderly gentlemen named Theo (my wife insists I'm a magnet for older men) struck up conversation with me. He shared a lot about his life; everything from his favorite football team, the Steelers, to his best friend who was about to lose his wife to cancer. She was dying as we spoke and would leave behind four children, all of whom were "of age," but that wouldn't really dull the pain of losing a mother. Soon, my dinner arrived and I prepared to leave. Right as I was saying goodbye to Theo, my waitress passed me my order and said with a wink, "Enjoy dinner with  your wife."

I didn't check to see if Theo was shocked or not. What thrilled me was how much fun the waitress seemed to have in wishing me a wonderful night. Ironically, it was October 1st, the beginning of National Coming Out month. I didn't consciously plan on coming out that evening. The clarification that my order wasn't for me but for my wife rolled off my tongue as easily as if I'd told her that I preferred not having cilantro in my dish. Perhaps because it was so easily offered, it resulted in an equally easy acceptance from my waitress.

I love living in this part of the country, where sharing that information will most likely be welcomed with a similar reaction. I also love that I have been able to move through the world as myself and I'm able to share conversation with a stranger who may have been interested in more than my preference of sporting events but didn't choke when he learned I was going home to another woman.

My gratitude goes out to the generations before me who sacrificed so much to allow me to enjoy living authentically. I hope my example inspires young GLBT people to believe that one day they can have a similar experience. Folks, it does get better. And, we deserve it!

Remembering Tyler Clementi

A bit more than a year ago, 18 year-old Rutger’s student Tyler Clementi jumped from the George Washington Bridge to his death, after having been the victim of lethal cyber-bullying. I started this blog shortly after Tyler's death, to honor him and countless other nameless GLBT youth who decided death was the only escape they had from the hateful attacks launched against them, both personally and virtually.

Tyler inspired me to show young GLBT youth that it does get better as they get older. My wife and I have decided that it's important to share our experiences as lesbian moms so that young GLBT people can see the opportunities they have to create families of their own and weave themselves into the fabric of whichever community they choose. I want to make sure that there are countless communities from which they may choose.

I also wanted to use the same medium that caused Tyler and others so much pain in a far different way.  The only way to drown out hateful internet chatter is by casting a positive light showing that GLBT family values very often mirror those of their straight peers.  Speaking for Donna and myself, we simply want to raise healthy, well-adjusted children who give back to their communities.

Since I launched my blog in October of 2010, Out in Suburbia has been viewed by thousands of people around the world.  It's also gotten the attention of Gay Parent Magazine (gayparentmag.com). I'm proud to be a regular contributor to this great publication. It's the longest running national GLBT magazine dedicated to GLBT parents. Sadly, I don't think Tyler ever dreamed the impact his death would have on our culture and how it has prompted real change in our schools.

Today, New Jersey's anti-bullying laws have been tightened and the state attorney general distributed guidelines to school officials and law enforcement about the anti-bullying laws to help them determine which types of infractions might fall under the updated statutes. Every school in New Jersey is now required to have bullying prevention teams in place. 

 I'm proud to be the parent representative for our children's school’s team. We will kick off our program next week using materials jointly created by GLSEN and IBM, my employer. We have timed the programs to roll out during the Week of Respect, starting October 3rd. That week will set the tone for the rest of the year, and it is our school's hope that it will improve the students' experiences and shine a light on the bullying problem. 

Ironically, October is also National Coming Out Month. I pray that we continue to create an environment where more young GLBT people will feel they can be themselves and identify openly as GLBT, without fear of hateful attacks on their humanity. So next week as I read to each class and guide them in discussions about the importance of respect, I'll have Tyler Clementi in my heart, guiding my intentions. And, I'll take comfort that my children will have an even safer place in which to learn and in which their character can blossom.

"But Mom, you can't judge someone by the way they look. "

Sometimes, we work so hard at instilling strong moral character into our children that when our own character flaws are exposed and we fall short of the lessons we're trying to teach, they call us on it. That's exactly what happened to us when Hunter was trying to learn how Donna knew a man they had seen earlier that day was gay. 

The man in question was a store manager at one of our local department stores. Hunter was with Donna when they had to go and return an item. From Donna's perspective, he was obviously gay. Donna said she could tell by his flamboyant mannerisms and his style of dress; both of which are completely superficial and stereotypical ways to recognize a gay man. Regardless of Donna's assessment, the man got Hunter's attention too, and he wanted to know what his story was. So, Donna told him he dressed the way he did and walked the way he did because he was gay.

Hunter was confused, because we've always told him not to judge anyone by the way they look. He wanted to know how we know when we're in the presence of other gay people. All of the examples we both shared weren't holding water with Hunter. I futilely tried to explain to him what "gaydar" was and failed miserably. My weak definition that gaydar is something all gay people have and it allows us to recognize each other deserved Hunter's criticism. My description flies in the face of what I like to think I work hard at; which is to create an inclusive, safe environment by carefully choosing the words I use and the behaviors I demonstrate.

Hunter simply said, "But Mom, you can't judge someone by the way they look." He's absolutely right. My sweet boy reminded me that none of us can jump to conclusions about each other based on superficial evidence. We need to learn how to treat one another with respect and dignity and work on overcoming our own biases and prejudice to see the person's character, rather than stopping once we see how that person decorates their character through their wardrobe choices or the rhythm of their swagger.

Investing the time to see the whole person yields such wonderful dividends. The payback that approach creates helps to enhance our own character. Because Hunter is absolutely right, it's not fair to judge someone just for the way they look. It's not fair to judge at all. What I hope to learn from Hunter's admonition is to accept each other in all of the diverse ways we present ourselves to the world. That way, the world will be a much more friendly, welcoming, and interesting place to be.

"Mom, is sex fun?"

Hunter is growing up so fast and the speed at which he's jettisoning toward puberty and adulthood seems to be increasing exponentially with each passing day. That increase is partly due to media influences and the messaging about being cool sometimes equals being sexy. That message is putting unnecessary pressure on our kids to do adult things before they are adults and have the right coping skills and understanding of the consequences of their actions.

Hunter and I recently enjoyed some one-on-one time in the car after we dropped my beautiful niece with my parents in Boston. So, as Hunter and I hit the highway to head home to New Jersey, we enjoyed some deep conversation. As a few dear friends with older children have predicted, the car proved to be conducive to really complicated topics. I think the car creates an environment in which children, especially boy-children, open up and talk. Perhaps it's just ergonomically-friendly when a son is talking to the back of his mom's head and can't see the fleeting panic cross her face as this question is asked:  "Mom, is sex fun?"

Now, the emotions that flooded my mind as this question left Hunter's lips were overwhelming. I am quite proud that I was able to compose myself quickly enough to ask, "What makes you ask that?" It was the classic "answer a question with a question" strategy meant to buy me more time to craft a thoughtful answer that didn't scar Hunter for life. As I waited for his response, I was choosing whether to be honest and say, "yes" or answer dishonestly and have this become the pivotal moment of his future need for sex-therapy by telling him, "Absolutely not. . . it hurts like hell!"

He said that he saw a promotion for a documentary on History Channel or Discovery Channel where the host explores why different things are fun. Apparently, the next topic was to be "Why is Sex Fun?"

So, I seized this major teaching moment and decided to be honest. I answered, "Yes, Hunter, it is fun and that's why people make such a big deal about it. But, it's also incredibly special and I hope you chose your first experience to be with someone you love. Ideally, I'd like that person to be your wife." I continued my answer with this bit of advice:  "Your first time with sex is something that you can't take back and I don't ever want you to regret your decision." He paused and took this in and then added, "And I have to use a condom right?"

I felt myself clench the steering wheel even harder, grateful for the dark of night cloaking both my white knuckles and my crimson cheeks. "Absolutely, Hunter. And not just to keep a girl from getting pregnant, but also to make sure you don't get any diseases." I instantly felt remorse over my glee that Donna had "the talk" with him several months earlier, so I didn't have to deal with it. Now that he knew the mechanics, the questions were getting harder and the topics more complicated than the clinical aspects of puberty and sex. That will teach me for thinking I got away with anything!

Fortunately, we moved on to his sharing that he really didn't want to have children, and reasons around that. So, the more scandalous topic had passed. What was still foremost in my mind was the gratitude I had that he felt comfortable enough to talk to Donna and me about this topic rather than get misinformation from his peers.

In retrospect, I envy my son. He can have an open conversation about sex with me and not feel that he has to hide any secrets about himself. I had the same experience with my mother decades earlier, but I left out the part about my being gay. I think this omission caused me to make poor choices when I came out and experienced a "second puberty." I didn't treat some of my relationships with the care and consideration I should have largely because I didn't know how to treat myself with the care and consideration I deserved.

I'm glad I outgrew that phase and I'm also glad that I've grown enough personally to treat myself and thereby the relationship I have with my wife with the love and respect we both deserve. I pray that all young people and adults, whether they be gay or straight, use respect and love as their moral compass as they travel through their romantic relationships. Because as I admitted to Hunter; sex is fun, but it's sacred, too.

"What I like most about me is that I love you."

As I was out with Skye earlier today, I was telling her that I couldn't pick only one thing that I liked best about her because she has so many great qualities I couldn't chose just one. So, after telling her how smart, funny and gorgeous she was, I asked her what she liked most about herself.

She answered, "What I like most about me is that I love you." When I tell you that I nearly drove off the road, I'm not exaggerating. It's moments like this, when the sweet honesty and genuine feelings are expressed that take my breath away. Some cynics, myself among them, would also point to that moment as anecdotal evidence that the human race will never end.

I have discovered that parenting is tremendously challenging. So, the currency of patience and adoration that those memories deposit in our hearts and minds is priceless. All too often I'll find myself at the end of my rope, feeling so fragmented that I only have enough focus to get from task to task and question why I ever chose to be a parent. During those moments I wonder if I have enough patience, acceptance and unconditional love to get them to adulthood with student loans instead of therapy bills. And then, Skye will make a remark like that or Hunter will come over and give a seemingly random hug at the moment I need it most.

Those moments snap me out of auto-pilot mode and back into a conscious, purposeful approach in my parenting and in all relationships for that matter. Like I've heard many brave parents share, I know that I can get buried in work and lose my focus on the priorities. Finding time to have those precious moments is tough, and as they grow older, Skye's and Hunter's calendars are getting full too, which adds to the complexity.

I think making sure we have regular checkpoints with members of our family becomes critical. Times where we can spend time collectively as a family and time when it's one on one time with one of the children. Sometimes it's as simple as grabbing one of them to go run some errands together. That kind of moment was exactly when Skye told me that the thing she loved most about herself was that she loved me. Who knew that grabbing bread, milk, and eggs could be such a powerful recipe for connectedness? I'm sure a lot of seasoned parents did, and I'm glad I now know that secret, too.

"Does this make my boobs look good?"

If you want to discover your inner-prude, just spend the summer with a blossoming teenager who is literally on the bridge between childhood and adulthood. My niece Taylor is rapidly moving toward her 16th birthday and like most teenage girls, is super-conscious about her body image. She's stunning, and like most young women, is her own worst critic. She sees all her "flaws" magnified exponentially in her own mind. So, when Donna shared a moment she had with Taylor, it brought tremendous comic relief.

Donna was preparing something in the kitchen and Taylor trotted downstairs to show off a new top she had just received and asked Donna, "Auntie, does this make my boobs look good?"

Now, although Donna is a HUGE flirt with her peers, she was raised in a Trinidadian household which was heavily influenced by British sensibilities and traditions like afternoon tea, and underscored with uninhibited Caribbean culture like Carnival. So, this innocent question posed by an American teenager sent her into a tailspin. She told me, "I'm feeling awkward looking at her chest, but she wants me to look at her chest, to tell her if her boobs look good." I think she played it off cool, by saying, "Sure." And then immediately averted eye-contact by busying herself with preparing dinner.

For Donna, this was where body image and internal homophobia met. Donna met Taylor when she was younger than Skye is now. She was four years old. Donna used to read to her during our visits to Maine. Any child who has experienced a story read by Donna knows that you never know what kind of accents and action she will bring to the table. So imagine Donna's plight as our now teenage niece posed that question to her lesbian aunt.

I've learned from spending time with Taylor that her attitude on GLBT issues is very progressive. To her, it's no big deal and many of her closest friends are gay or bisexual. I'm glad she's growing up during a time when that topic is no longer taboo. So, to Taylor, it was no big deal to ask that question. She said that she asks her mom questions like that all the time.

All I know is that my Trini wife's world was rocked. She's since recovered, but it's remarkable how aware we become about our subconscious gender conditioning and generation gaps. When gender and generations collide, it demonstrates how our Puritanical roots are still very much part of our moral compass.

I don't want to believe that the same rapid pace with which the past 11 years have passed for Taylor will repeat itself with Skye. I simply hope that God is kind in how soon we experience Skye trotting down the steps asking the same question Taylor asked. It will mean our baby has retreated to a special place in her own heart and the woman she was meant to be would be moments from appearing. So, I intend on savoring every moment between now and then.

The Way Life Should Be

I can still hear the haunting cry of loons on Brewer Lake in my hometown of Orrington, ME. The peace and serenity I felt during that week was restorative, despite a busy week of being on the road to see different points of interest with the friends we had brought along. Although we had a very busy week, those precious moments of hearing the loons and soaking up the view were enough to keep me going. The memory of being on the lake in a canoe and watching a bald eagle land on a majestic pine tree as I played tag with a loon near the shore is indelible in my mind.

We just returned from our annual summer vacation to Maine and the State's slogan deeply resonates with me. "The Way Life Should Be" is a phrase that used to poke the beast inside me. I used to feel like it was  personal affront, telling me that life there represented the way I should be. Initially, I left home to see what the rest of the country had to offer. Before college, I had never set foot outside the state except for Music Department trips to Virginia or  the annual Recreation Department weekends to Riverview, NB, Canada to celebrate our CANUSA games. When I started my job search when my college career was winding down, it became clear that I would not find the kind of professional opportunities in the State of Maine that I had worked so hard to qualify for while in college.

Underscoring all of those issues, was the frustrating fact that the politics of the state I loved kept me classified as a second-class citizen. And that was the primary reason I had not entertained moving back home. I couldn't consider moving back home because I could never have the security my straight peers enjoyed for their families.

Just recently, Maine struck down the possibility of same-sex marriage. Domestic partnerships were established in the State of Maine by statute in April 2004. This placed Maine in the category of U.S. states that offer limited recognition of same-sex relationships, but not all of the legal protections of marriage. On May 6, 2009, the state enacted a law to allow same-sex marriage in Maine. The law was subsequently repealed by 52.8% of Maine voters on November 3, 2009. Maine's domestic partnership law remains in effect.

Having entered a Civil Union in December of 2009 in NJ, the prospects of going back to a domestic partnership are something neither Donna nor I would ever consider. If the day finally comes when we can legally marry in Maine, then I would be one of the first couples to apply for a marriage license. Given our commitment ceremony was done in May 2000, after 12 years of a beautiful, profoundly sacred relationship with the woman I am sharing my life, it would seem that the third time would be a charm ;)

So, yes, "The Way Life Should Be" resonates with me still, but I continue to yearn for the day when I can pack up the Jeep with fishing gear, sip on a cup of coffee with the sounds of loons as my soundtrack and take my family fishing in my home state, knowing that it will take care of my family in the event of my untimely passing in the same way it would take care of my straight classmates' families. When that day dawns, I will be planning a state to state move, not just a vacation.

"It was nice spending time with you."

Over the weekend, Hunter spends a lot of time in what we affectionately refer to as his "man cave." It's a finished basement with a flat screen TV and Wii unit that allows him to escape from the disproportionate amount of estrogen in the household. So, it was really surprising to overhear him recently telling his sister Skye, "It was nice spending time with you."

I was actually shocked. Of late, they've been bickering more than getting along. Having grown up with three little brothers, I know how frustrating younger siblings can be. On the other hand, having grown up, I appreciate how special that bond is between siblings. We're about to depart for Maine for a week's vacation and one of the things I look most forward to is time spent with my brothers and their families.

I'm glad that the relationship Hunter and Skye have is peppered with sentiments like Hunter shared with his sister. "It was nice spending time with you." How sweet and special that he felt compelled to say that to her. How wonderful for her to hear it, and how proud I was as their parent to witness that moment.

As Americans hear more and more from people frantically trying to undo the progress being made on the same sex marriage front and misguided beliefs that our families are not as healthy as families with a mom and a dad, I hold this example up as anecdotal evidence that we have as much love and support to give our children as any other kind of family does. As I've said  before, my wife and I worked hard to create this family and we continue to work hard to instill strong family values. This aspiration is not gender-biased, it's a common theme that is shared by most parents.

I pray that as our society continues, this inclusive approach to treating one another equally is seen as just that, a step in the right direction toward and inclusive society, and not one defined by narrow-minded thinking that exempts certain people from enjoying civil rights because of whom they love. Love should know no limitations or discrimination.

Over time, it's my sincere hope that regardless of orientation, we can all arrive at a space where we tell one another, "It was nice spending time with you."

Finding our inner Dolphins

I had the most amazing spiritual experience with a dolphin while vacationing in Cozumel, Mexico. I know that sounds cliche, but it's true. When that dolphin and I were looking at each other, it felt like she saw into my soul. What made it even more special is that the entire family enjoyed that experience together. I also loved that the dolphin had a child who also participated in the encounter, so it became  a "play date" with each others children.

The person who facilitated the encounter allowed each of us to spend individual time with those amazing creatures. We got to shake hands, hug them, and kiss them. It was sweet, unconditional acceptance and love.

Juxtaposed against that experience is the abject disappointment I feel as I watch all the recent scandals surrounding political figures like California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger and NYS Senator Anthony Wiener. It makes me yearn for humanity to tap into the integrity and wisdom I experienced with that lovely dolphin and her child in Cozumel. If only we could find a way to get back to what matters and trust that when we elect officials based on the platform they claim to represent, we will allow them to make good on those promises.

Personal scandals aside, I know that most of the problem in getting anything accomplished in Washington and our State governments stems from partisanship, which prevents politicians from accomplishing their goals. We continue to be disappointed in our political leaders because of the posturing and petty disputes between parties. It appears that they are more vested in getting their own way and "one-upping" each other rather than working together for the changes this country desperately needs.

A topic near and dear to my heart is equal rights for GLBT citizens. Why is it that the desire for GLBT families to have equal rights sparks such a visceral reaction from many of our fellow citizens? I can tell you one thing; that dolphin in Cozumel didn't care at all that I was a lesbian. She saw me for all of who I am and the love and acceptance I felt was life-changing. My kids also don't care that I love another woman. They care that I love their Mommy and that our family can enjoy the same protections under our government that their friends' "traditional" families enjoy.

So, because I won't live to see a dolphin elected to political office, I hope that we can see past the superficial, flawed double-standards we accept in our elected officials and demand that real change happens in Washington. It's time to collectively grow up and put our sophomoric game play to the side to get real work done. How could allowing all citizens equal rights possibly become a slippery slope for debauchery and the undoing of family values?

Candidly speaking, I've seen more scandal from our heterosexual leaders than I have from those politicians brave enough to serve as openly GLBT. Perhaps that's merely because there are so many more heterosexual politicians relative to the number of GLBT politicians. So, let's stop the name-calling and posturing about superficial, unfounded concerns and find our inner-dolphins so we can work together to bring our country to new levels of greatness.

"You are letting your life speak for you."

Among other profound bits of wisdom dispersed on the Oprah Winfrey Show finale, she told her audience that "You will receive in direct proportion to what you give. You have the power to save some body's life. . . Everybody has a calling."

My calling is writing this blog.

As a result of producing the blog, it got me published in Gay Parent Magazine, which blesses me with a national audience, and an ability to positively impact even more lives. When I started this blog, I did so with the intention of helping other GLBT people realize that they could have a life full of possibility, and if parenthood was one of their aspirations, being GLBT should not become a reason for not pursing it. As I grew up in rural Maine in the 1970s and -80s, having children was not even part of my vision for my future. I knew I was a lesbian, and I didn't think that having children would be possible. Then, I met a wonderful woman who changed that vision.

Although Donna came out later in life, she always believed that she would have children one day. That belief never wavered, even after coming out in her early thirties. Ironically enough, I would meet Donna when I was in my late twenties and fell in love with her a couple of years into our friendship. I distinctly remember turning 29 just before our commitment ceremony in May of 2000. I turned thirty the following year, and we were already expecting Hunter.

I'm only directly aware of the feedback my small circle of friends who read my blog share with me and they tell me I should keep going. I also know that people around the world are reading it regularly and I'm touched by that audience. One of the things I'm most proud of is influencing a friend's son to work on a project in his middle school about legalizing Gay Marriage. His project is something of a "full-circle moment." I had my most challenging years in middle school, and the climate around that topic, at least in my part of the world nearly 30 years ago was not conducive to mature conversation about GLBT issues. If anything, it was the topic of crass jokes. Now, we're in a place where it becomes the topic of a middle-school social studies project. 

I'm proud that my family inspired this group of students to share how we live our lives as an example of why Gay Marriage should be legalized. They even used the cover of Gay Parent Magazine (the one on which my family was featured) as part of the visual aid. The project was submitted to the Project Citizen NJ contest hosted by Rutgers University for NJ students statewide. I'm proud to say it placed second.

For me, that accomplishment is a barometer for how far we have come and how much more progressive and open-minded our future leaders are about this topic. They realize that we are simply another family living our lives as thoughtfully and lovingly as any other "traditional" family does. Perhaps that understanding will finally propel equal rights legislation for GLBT people. I am confident it will pass in my lifetime.

We are blowing open closet doors everywhere and demystifying the scandalous, taboo perception so many people have held for so long about GLBT people. The Graffam family is living our life here in our suburb of New Jersey and letting it speak for us. It warms my heart to know many people are proud of what we're telling the world.

"Mom, are you GAY?!!!

Last month, one of our fellow moms was blowing a kiss to a group of us as she was leaving, and her daughter blurted out, "Mom, are you gay?!!!!" The question was asked with horror, only the slightest bit of joking was heard in her tone. She's in fifth grade, and I'm sure that the topic of sexuality is heightened because of her pubescent stage of life. We could tell that her mother wanted to die. Donna and I were part of the group of moms that were the recipients of this goodbye kiss and because we're openly lesbian, she blurted out that question.

Clearly, homophobia is still alive and well in our community, and because it rarely shows its face while Donna and I are in a crowd, the occasions in which it does appear are startling. My emotions go in a hundred different directions when incidents like that happen. I find myself struggling with whether to excuse the outburst because she's a child or seize the opportunity to teach how affection towards someone of the same sex, if one of the people is gay, doesn't mean that the person showing the affection has suddenly qualified for a toaster oven because they've converted to "our team."

My stoic, rational wife was able to play it off and say, "You're mom's saying goodbye to a lot of her friends. It doesn't mean she's gay." There really was no conversation after she made that comment, because the child's mother couldn't get out of the uncomfortable situation she found herself in fast enough.

My reaction not nearly as mature as my wife's and as I made eye contact with another mom who witnessed the outburst and who happened to be straight, we were barely able to contain our nervous laughter as soon as the little girl and her mom left. And now, there's a punch line with that mom each time I greet her with a kiss. Wait a beat, and then one of us will ask with feigned horror, "hold on.  . . are you GAY?"

I know that I am profoundly blessed in that overall, the way in which Donna and I have lived our lives has made a positive impact on our community and allows us to be welcomed as another family in a community of people who are really tightly knit.

However, the knowledge that in other communities around the globe, that little girl's statement is a reflection of the majority's attitude toward gay people, saddens me. It's those communities that drive me to continue to publish this blog and shed light and I believe, hope, that it is possible to live authentically and safely. So, in honor of Gay Pride Month, let's all of us, GLBT and our allies, work harder than ever to drive out homophobia from our communities. I welcome my readers to comment on ways you plan to do that.

"Some of the children think Skye is Racist."

As a person who has been in an inter-racial relationship for years, imagine my shock when I picked up Skye from Camp Carnival on our cruise and the director told me some of the children thought she was racist. Apparently, Skye was playing with one little girl and other children approached them and wanted to play too. Skye told the children she didn't want to play with them because they were brown.

Now, I don't dispute it was a racist statement. I was shocked that she said that at all. When I spoke to Skye about it, she told me that she didn't want to play with them because she just wanted to play with one friend. So, using very flawed judgement (after all, she is only four years old), she decided that she would tell them she didn't want to play with them because they were brown.

When I explained that it was wrong to use the way someone looked as a reason for not liking them or wanting to spend time with them, she was clearly upset that she had upset them. I broke it down by explaining that her Mommy and her Grandad and Granny and her Uncle are all "brown." I asked her if she loved them, and she said, "Yes, Mama. I didn't want to play with the other kids because I wanted to play with just one friend."

As uncomfortable as that teaching moment was, it allowed me to explain to Skye how the important thing to care about was how someone behaved and not how someone looks. It was a teaching moment for the director of the camp, too. Having met Donna and me, she knew that Skye had two moms and one of them was "brown." So, the director was able to assure the offended children that Skye didn't mean to sound racist, she was only having a difficult time explaining she didn't want to play with other children.

For me, that incident shows how racism still scars this country and the world. Although race relations in this country have come a long way, we are all still suffering from the scars that racism inflicted on our collective consciousness. Furthermore, my little girl demonstrated that sometimes the intent of someone's words is not always evident on the surface. Emotional issues like race and bigotry cloud our judgement and create situations where it is very hard to have thoughtful, discerning communication.

Race still casts a shadow in my own daily life. Donna identifies as Black, but most people assume she's Hispanic. As a matter of fact, my brothers are convinced she's not "really"  Black. Given her lesbianism, Donna is a poster child for diversity in many ways, her ethnic makeup not withstanding. But my Caucasian brothers who have limited experience with people of other races, don't have a lot of facts upon which to base their conclusions. Again, their assumptions are a reflection of the assumptions around race that society makes.


I guess the bottom line is although we have come a long way in our race relations, we have not yet gotten completely to where we should be as a society. I continue to believe that we need to teach by example and show the world that there are more folks who do understand that it's the content of one's character and not the color of one's skin that matters. Donna and I feel that way every day in our own family. So, on behalf of this inter-racial lesbian couple, I know we will continue to do our part to overcome racism and elevate character.

"It DOES get better."

I just saw the It Gets Better Public Service Announcement-style campaign that show different GLBT people and allies assuring young GLBT people who are bullied that it does get better as you get older. I can attest to that promise. The most recent example I can raise up is the most joyous time I had celebrating my 40th birthday. I celebrated my birthday on Friday the 13th this year and what is often considered a day fraught with bad luck turned out to be a day filled with love.

I felt as though a festival had been planned, when to my amazement, I answered the door on Thursday, and there stood my best friend Sue and her little sister Chrissy. I had been expecting them, but not until the following day. It truly set the tone for a fun filled weekend.

I also enjoyed all the campy birthday cards designed to poke fun at hitting that milestone year. Of course, many of them had a play on the "f-word." Forty being the f-word in question. And although the cards were meant to play on feelings of being old or out of touch, I don't feel that way at all. I really do think that my forties will be fabulous. Admittedly, I sometimes still struggle with feeling fragmented; however, I have arrived in a place in my life where I have learned to stop and enjoy the moment, so it's not lost in fretting over the future or in regretting the past.

At times during that weekend of blessings, I would step outside of the festivities long enough to recognize how blessed I am with the dearest of friends and the best wife and kids a girl could ask for. I had my local "best-ies" who help Donna and I raise our children here in New Jersey and my best friend of the past 27 years surrounding me. My days and nights were full of laughter and reminiscing. On Friday Sue and Chrissy and I explored the amazing City of New York and returned home to have an unforgettable dinner at the Crab House in Edgewater, NJ, with a spectacular view of the NYC skyline. On Saturday, I enjoyed a fun and relaxing cookout at home with dear friends and all of our children.

As I witnessed a Nerf gun fight break out in which there were as many adults playing as there were children, I knew my cup truly runneth over. What I also realized, for those young readers out there, was that most of the people surrounding me were heterosexual. So, to all of you out there worried that you can't take the bullying for one more minute, please take heart in knowing that it does indeed get better. Perhaps one day if you're as blessed as we are, you can hear your best friend asking you where your wife learned how to cook so well.

"I Believe in Magic."

It's amazing the courage that my children give me. I never in a million years imagined I'd be zip lining through the rain forest in Belize. But, because Hunter wanted to experience it, I wanted to see his thrill first-hand. The best way to do that, was to join him.

Our family vacation showed me many different kinds of courage my son demonstrates. When we went zip lining, he wanted to be the first one in our party to do it. When we had our dolphin encounter, he enthusiastically volunteered to be the first one in our group (it was our family and another family) to meet the dolphins. And when we first arrived on the ship, he made new friends as easily as some of us breathe. With the zip lining, it surprised me that he was willing to go out on a limb, in this case, quite literally, before one of the adults in his life did.  Because he's got such a gentle soul, I sometimes make the same mistake others do, and assume he'd approach risks with some degree of timidity. What I'm starting to realize, is that Hunter is anything but timid.

Watching how Hunter moves through the world, I'm beginning to wonder if courage isn't innate and timidity is something that is learned. As Hunter connected to the zip line and flew over the verdant canopy of the Belize rain forest, he did it while singing "I believe in Magic!" As I connected to the same zip line, I flew over the canopy desperately clutching to my safety lines, silently choking on my terror. The juxtaposition of our behavior was telling and having had time to reflect, it was a profound lesson in how life experience tends to fill us up with fear, losing our capacity for bravery.

I can't help but wonder if all the cautionary tales told about how our world works and how there is danger at every turn doesn't simply stamp our our innate bravery. I know that as I've gotten older, I approach life with caution, carefully scrutinizing every situation for all the "what if" scenarios. What if my being openly gay puts me in harm's way? What if my son is abducted while walking the two blocks between home and school? What if I lose my job because I speak up about inequities or criticize greed-driven policies?

I'm not saying that we should throw caution completely out the window. Hate-crimes and bullying still happen far too often. Child abductions, every parent's worst nightmare still make headlines. And employees often decide to accept diminished compensation and personal job satisfaction because being gainfully employed is more than some folks can say.

What I am saying is that when I safely reached the other side of that first span when zip lining, my terror switched to exhilaration. Initially, I was thrilled simply to have lived. Immediately after that, I was thrilled that I chose risk over fear. My son inspired that. I hope we can continue to create a space for him and for Skye to always embrace life rather than become strangled by fear.

Off the Grid

There are so many distractions around us today that most of us are suffering from self-imposed Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). We have email, voice mail, texts, and cell phones constantly on. Add that to television, computers, and radios and there is no place we can simply tune into each other, rather than to an electronic device.

I just got back from an unbelievable family vacation with Carnival Cruise Lines, which took us to Grand Cayman, Belize, Honduras, and Mexico. It was a solid week of no cell phones, no computers and nearly no television. Hunter and Skye tuned into Cartoon Network occasionally, but it was never more than 30 minutes a day. Being "off the grid" was absolute bliss. We got to enjoy each other and also had the added bonus of spending the week with Donna's parents and brother, Terry.

The opportunity to enjoy real conversations without distractions was a blessing. I got to enjoy soaking in a hot tub with my little girl, sliding down a water slide with Hunter, interacting with bottle nose dolphins in Mexico, zip-lining through the rain forest in Belize, and meeting new people from around the world, one of whom was a remarkable woman who served us dinner each evening. Before the cruise was finished, she felt like family. Hunter understandably developed a crush very quickly. Zuzana was absolutely stunning. Her inner beauty was just as striking, which made her glow even more radiantly. She was from Slovakia. The first evening, she assumed that Terry was my husband.

The moment was only a bit uncomfortable. Although Dad has come very far along in his acceptance of our family, his culture and upbringing still make it an awkward conversation. I answered "No, he's my brother-in-law." Then, I glanced at Donna to take the lead. She broke the ice by saying we were the couple. Zuzana was delighted and our ability to comfortably be who we were was firmly established. Dad was beaming as much from relief as from pride and we moved along to decide whether we would have the salmon or the prime rib.

Our family has an interesting dynamic. Hunter, Skye and I have fair complexions and Donna, her brother and her parents all are lovely different shades of brown. So, it's understandable, especially when onlookers hear Skye call her uncle, Poppa, that people assume I'm Terry's wife. For me, it simply reinforces how intriguing people's stories are and how important it is never to assume anything for face value.

So now as I sit at my desk, back on the grid, the Carnival Valor will always be in my heart. I have a new, warm and sunny Happy Place to which I can retreat when the noise of the grid gets to be too much. I highly recommend that people unplug from the grid regularly to experience our humanity first hand, versus through electronic mediums. You'll be so glad you did.

"Do as I Say, Not as I Do."

Occasionally, I'll step outside of myself just far enough to see my behavior from my children's perspective. And sometimes I don't like what I see.

As we rush to get out the door on certain mornings and Skye's maniacal focus on how her socks should fold over one another "just so" takes precious time away from our ability to get Hunter to school on time, I loose it! I'm one wire hanger away from re-enacting Mommy Dearest. Suddenly, I see myself screaming at her to move it, and I'm ashamed at how my behavior makes her and her brother Hunter feel. They suddenly cower in fear. Skye's face clouds over as she bursts into tears and Hunter snaps to attention like a little soldier, trying to compensate for his sister's transgressions.

Thank God those moments rarely happen, but when they do, I feel like I undo all the good work and trust that I've established to that point. I know that's unreasonable, and that even the best parent looses her cool, but I hate it when it happens to me. What makes me even more ashamed, is listening to myself scold Skye for talking to her brother so rudely, when I know she merely mirrors me in my less than stellar parenting moments.

I'm fascinated at how we take more time and grant more patience with perfect strangers or work colleagues than we do our own loved ones, especially our children. I would never think about coming unraveled in a professional setting. Despite my wildest fantasies of riding herd over unreasonable sellers and out of touch executives, I keep myself in check and put on a good game face. I suppose the consequences for behaving badly at work are more immediate than those for behaving badly at home.

My new goal starting right now will be to simply walk away before my temper erupts. As I do already, I will apologize to my children for each outburst and explain how my behavior was unacceptable. I know I won't be perfect, but at least, I will be more aware of the anger. So, when I feel that rage crawl up my spine and raise my hackles, I will stop it in its tracks and learn more constructive ways of dealing with my frustrations. Because the long term effects of my bad behavior on my family are far more destructive than lost wages. My family's love and admiration is priceless.

I really do understand how disconcerting it can be to have someone "Talk the talk, but not walk the walk."  I don't want to be a source of that frustration for my children. So, I will stop demonstrating the old adage, "Do as I say, not as I do" and start showing my children that they deserve to be treated with at least the same respect than that I give strangers or professional associates.

"They Should be Just as Miserable as the Rest of Us."

Dolly Parton and Melissa Etheridge were interviewed by Oprah years ago after teaming on an album and Dolly stated her position on legalizing gay marriage by saying, "Hell, I believe they should be just as miserable as the rest of us." Of course, it got a big laugh and made a heck of an impression on me. Dolly Parton has been married to the same man since May 30, 1966, nearly forty-five years. Given that she's mastered the art of being flirtatious and emphasizing all the good physical traits with which the good Lord has endowed her, that surprises most people.

What also surprises people is that gay couples can enjoy equally long monogamous relationships, although it rarely gets press. Instead, we see story after story of how gay love is not real, and even if it approximates what heterosexual couples enjoy, it will crumble when the going gets tough and there are no legal consequences for walking away. That line of reasoning, propagated by right wing evangelical thinkers, is exactly what seeps into our gay community's collective subconscious and feeds the serial monogamy rampant in gay and lesbian circles.

Despite whether it happens for gay and lesbian couples or for heterosexual couples, it's remarkable when people who are committed to one another stick out the rough patches that are inevitable for any couple. I believe this phenomenon occurs when the commitment to one another comes from a shared belief in the sanctity of the relationship. Gay and lesbian couples want something that is really simple in theory, but profoundly intricate in practice: equal marriage rights.

As Dolly said, we simply want the right to be as miserable as everyone else. What makes that statement so outrageous is its truth. There are many dark, difficult periods in long term relationships. They are born out of misunderstandings and fear of sharing our deepest thoughts and beliefs for fear that they will be met with rejection. They manifest themselves in infidelity, dishonesty, and fear. The true test of any relationship is how each person in the relationship deals with those hurdles. Anyone who has come through those dark periods intact, knows the joy born from the choice to stay together is capable of lighting up even the darkest nights.

So, as Donna and I count down the days to our 11th anniversary, I'm blessed to sit next to my best friend, the woman with whom I've grown so much and share countless blessings. And the one thing I will continue to pray for is the day when I can legally marry her. What I don't know is whether when that day comes Skye will be our flower girl and Hunter will be the ring bearer or they will stand with us as legal witnesses. What I do know is that together, we will continue to joyfully wait for the day when, as was said at our civil union, "the State of New Jersey catches up with what God intended."

Milestones

Over the course of the last month, Donna and I have had the pleasure of celebrating two milestone 50th birthdays with dear friends, and we've done that as I get closer to my own milestone of 40 years next month. It's understandably caused a lot of reflection about milestones and the journeys we take to get to them.

When we turn one year old, it's less a celebration of our own lives, and more a celebration that our new parents have been successful enough to get us to that point. So perhaps that first birthday celebration is more for the parents than for the child. I remember when Hunter turned one, we invited the whole neighborhood to celebrate  with us as family members from out of town joined us on his first birthday. We were thrilled that he was one and I'm sure he doesn't remember it at all!

Then, we turn five years old and suddenly, we're in school. We're learning how to read, write and most importantly, how to get along with others. It begins the rigor of a school schedule and fitting it into work schedules and after-school activities.

Suddenly, we're ten years old. We've arrived in the double-digit age bracket. We're on the cusp of being a teenager, but we're still fiercely attached to some things from our younger years. So, we show the world our cool, independent selves and retreat to the safety of our rooms to connect with dolls and action figures we would be mortified to admit to our friends or family that we still cherished.

Let's jump to sixteen years old. For girls, it's a "coming of age" birthday. We call it "sweet sixteen." I remember having a few close friends over and they presented me with a car key. I was naive enough to think for a moment that it may have gone to a real car (despite the fact I hadn't yet gotten my driver's license) and then I opened the Matchbox Ferrari. My friends had a good laugh and I have an unforgettable fond memory.

Eighteen years old brings the title of adulthood and in this country, the right to vote. For young men, it brings the obligation to register with the armed forces. Whether or not they join is now a choice, but in our history, it came with the expectation that if we were to go to war, they would serve, barring any medical conditions that prevented them from service. Again, for most of us, that year is a bridge to obligations and responsibilities our future presses upon us and the previous carefree existence that allowed for big dreams and plans of fame and fortune. When I turned eighteen, I was looking forward to my first year of college and leaving the home I had known until that point in my life. I was trying to decide whether I'd become the next Oprah Winfrey, a best-selling author, or a pastor. The following year I had come out to my parents and nothing would be the same.

Let's fast forward to our twenties. By then, many of us start families of our own, and suddenly, the strange behaviors our parents displayed become far less mysterious. Parenthood presents its own heady dreams and obligations. We want the best for our children and pray we're given the strength and resourcefulness to deliver the best. I was a late bloomer to parenthood and didn't become a mom until I was thirty. My early twenties were more like a second adolescence. I had come out at 19 years old, so in my twenties, I more than made up for the dating I didn't do in high school.

In our thirties, we're busy making a name for ourselves professionally. Balancing the demands of career and family often cause us to lose ourselves and we walk through our days cloaked in anxiety and uncertainty. Are the choices we're making selfish? Are they so fraught with sacrifice that we're martyring ourselves? Will our children take good care of us in our old age or will they be so resentful and burdened with therapy bills from the mistakes we made as parents that we are left eating cat food to get by in our golden years?

In our forties, we have learned enough from our twenties and thirties to realize that we can start to relax and enjoy life or we'll worry ourselves into an early grave. At least, that's what I am feeling now as I get ready to step into 40. I'm actually looking forward to it. For me, during my forties I will see my children finish school and start looking for colleges. Ironically enough, I will finally pay of my own college loan just in time to pay for theirs. I can begin saving for my retirement in earnest and dream with Donna about what we'll do when we have more time for ourselves.

I won't jump into reflections of what the ensuing decades will bring, largely because I have no experience to offer yet. Also, I want to make sure that I'm enjoying the moment, because moments pass so quickly now that I'll miss them if I don't stay with them by worrying about what's to come or what's already happened. So, I'll cherish the memories that my friend's have gifted me with as we've celebrated their 50th years and I'll look forward to enjoying every minute of my fortieth decade. One thing I do know is that to do anything less than that will have undermined everything I've learned up to this point.

"I Never Thought of it That Way"

I love Oprah Winfrey. I absolutely ADORE her. Her show went national when I was in high school and since being an adult with responsibilities at 4:00 PM, I have taped or DVRed her show.  Now that she has launched her OWN network, I'm in Oprah-heaven. I was watching "Oprah Winfrey Presents Master Class", where she uses celebrities to teach life's lessons using their own lives as teaching tools. This week's class features Oprah herself. At one point in the program, she said that for every show she does, her intention is to teach her audience about whatever topic happens to be showcased. She loves to help people achieve "aha" moments; those epiphanies where suddenly things make sense or they are better able to understand issues with which they had struggled.

I like to think that by choosing to live authentically and openly, Donna and I, along with Hunter and Skye, are helping others to think about gay marriage and same sex parenting differently.  For us, it's simply marriage and parenting as we move through the day to day grind. We don't put the "gay" or "same sex" labels on it. Our family and close friends rarely do either. They see us struggle with the same work/life integration issues and time management challenges they do. Since these are all common issues it creates mutual admiration, understanding and a priceless support network.

The moments I love are those teaching moments that occur with people outside of our comfort zone. Those people who are in our peripheral vision and sometimes, we don't even realize we're being observed. Initially, they suddenly realize that our family is different.  Then, as they continue to watch us, they recognize familiar themes. They see two parents teaching manners ("Please don't interrupt us, Skye"), setting boundaries ("Hunter, do I look nine years old to you? I have to believe you wouldn't talk to your mother that way."), and reveling in cherished moments of unsolicited affection (kisses, hugs, I love yous, and reaching out to hold our hands). That familiarity strikes a chord and helps these strangers realize that whatever other labels people have for us, whether it's gay, lesbian, or inter-racial, the bottom line is that we are parents first and our kids are happy and well-adjusted.

So, when folks pry and ask how we became parents, our answers help them understand that it was by the grace of God and some really great doctors, just as any other couple who has fertility issues. Suddenly, they have that look that says, "I never thought of it that way." I love those moments!

Circling back to Oprah, who inspired this piece, I recognize that she has had no small impact on my own life and the choices I made and continue to make. She is a modern-day Horatio Alger story. She has beaten unbelievable odds and moved through the world with a divine confidence that propelled her to unimaginable success. Like Oprah, I believe that God is in every detail and that everyone's life has a purpose. I hope that I move through the world open enough to hear the universe whisper in my ear, telling me what direction I need to take so that I'm walking the path meant for me. I want to make a difference in the world. I'll continue to trust in the path that I'm on and hope that as my path crosses others, we can all learn from each other and come away thinking, "I never thought of it that way."

It Takes a Village

In 1996, Hilary Clinton published the NY Times Bestselling book, "It Takes a Village: And Other Lessons Children Teach Us." The premise of the book was the impact individuals and groups outside the family have, for better or worse, on a child's well-being, and advocates a society which meets all of a child's needs. As I see my own children grow and watch their personalities emerge, I recognize the village of extended family Donna and I are reliant upon to help us raise strong, well-adjusted children. Because Donna and I don't have immediate family nearby, that village has been especially important to our family.

We are blessed with strong men and women who can provide the type of nurturing we can't. Hunter and Skye both crave male attention and we have two great neighborhood Dads that are close to them. For one of the Dads, who has two beautiful girls with his wife, Hunter provides that surrogate son experience. His name is Mike and he has a passion for fishing, which Hunter loves, too. Despite my best efforts and even having procured a fishing license of my own, I just don't have the knowledge and skill that Mike does. I also don't have that male perspective and understanding that Hunter needs at times. Mike is a wonderful blessing to our family, because he takes the time out of a busy family schedule of his own to spend with Hunter. We also have Frank, a police officer in town, whose daughter is in the same class with Hunter. He's as passionate about fishing as Mike. And, he's always there with a hug and an ear for Hunter. I firmly believe that Hunter is fishing for more than the "catch of the day" when he's in the company of these great men. He's also collecting great tips on how to be a strong young man. I know he'll be a great Dad if he's blessed with children of his own someday, in large part because of Mike's and Frank's influence.

Mike's wife Cyndi, is an actress who brings the glamour into Skye's world. Skye is all about wardrobe and accessories. I often joke that God has a great sense of humor and demonstrated it when he blessed Donna and I with a little girl who is all about pastels, clothes, shoes and handbags. Thank goodness Cyndi has the skills and passion for those things.  Cyndi and Mike have two older girls, one of whom is Hunter's class. I love that I can bounce things off her and that Skye is the lucky recipient not only of her girl's hand-me-downs, but also of their love and friendship.

Another important person in Skye's life is her Godfather, whom she calls her Poppa. Her Poppa also happens to be her uncle, Donna's brother. One day Skye told me that she really wanted to have a Dad. I had to stop my own defensiveness when she told me that and open myself up to hear that she wanted a strong man in her life. She sees her friends at pre-school who have Dads and she felt like she was missing out. So, Uncle Terry stepped up to the challenge and has helped fill that need.

I don't know of any family that doesn't have some reliance on their community as they raise their children. And it's heartening to know that Donna and I positively contribute to our community and to our friends as they raise their families and the topic of homosexuality comes up. This year I was interviewed by a sixth-grader for a middle-school project on Gay Marriage. That child's project was entered into a state-wide contest, and will be voted on at Rutgers University in May. I'm very proud that our family has become a living example of an often controversial topic and that the argument for Gay Marriage is strengthened because of how they see us living our lives.

Fatherhood

I got a lead about my half sister last week and it also came with an opportunity to connect with my birth father. The entire situation has my head spinning, because it makes me think about how I define the word "father."

My Dad adopted me when I was six years old, shortly after he married my mother. He's known me all my life, because he and my mother are from the same hometown. Mama knew when she was ten years old and saw him for the first time on the school bus that she would marry him someday. It's a very sweet, romantic story. She was right, but life took a few interesting turns before that would happen.

When she was in high school, she was encouraged to befriend a "new kid" who would ultimately become her first husband because she became pregnant at 17. In 1970 in Maine, that condition prompted an instant marriage. I was born in May 1971, and my mother's first marriage lasted until I was about two years old. They separated when my mother was pregnant with my brother Tony. In retrospect, it was inevitable. After all, they were kids, and the marriage should never have happened. My birth father decided to enlist in the Air Force, and agreed to give up his parental rights so my Dad could adopt my brother and me. I'm very grateful to him for that decision.

Daddy worked very hard to provide for us. I can't imagine how he must have felt when he decided to marry Mama. He had always been a party animal and suddenly, he was committing not only to my mother, but to her two children as well. I find he was very courageous to marry my mother. He had to stand strong in the face of his family's disapproval. Marrying my mother, who was divorced with two kids, did not make his parents very happy. They were devout Mormons and his choice did not mirror their values. He's always been his own person, but inside of all of us is a kid that only wants our parent's approval, so I have to imagine it was hard for him. Thinking about his challenges, they remind me of the same kind of challenges I've faced as an openly gay woman.

Daddy's strength of character and his love for us has helped me establish my own value system and heavily influenced how I define family. He and Mama went on to have two more children and I was blessed to grow up with three crazy younger brothers and two parents who always put us first. We didn't have a lot of material things, but we had each other and I carry a lot of fun memories with me from my childhood.

As I parent my own children, I think about how Daddy loved me without reservation. He wasn't a huggy-feely type of guy, but I never doubted how much he loved us. Today, both of us have to stop and remember that we don't share any biology. When I fill out medical history I have to make a conscious effort to shift my thinking to my birth father's side of family rather than Daddy's. There's a lot to be said for the nature versus nurture argument. In my case, Daddy's nurturing created an indelible imprint in my heart and shaped my character.

Today, I see how my son Hunter is so much like me, despite not sharing any of my biology. I love him unconditionally and he gave me such joy that I decided to carry his sister to expand our family. And Donna loves Skye as though she gave birth to her. My two girls are so much alike that it's scary! So, I believe that family is more defined by the love that is shared rather than the blood running through our veins.

Thank you Daddy, for starting a legacy of love that has created a wonderfully diverse Graffam family. I love you.

"Leprechaun Day"

Last week,  I found myself in the midst of a ridiculous debate with my four-year old daughter over whether or not there was a Leprechaun Day in March. I think that she's seen pictures of Leprechauns and assumed that the holiday was in honor of those mystical creatures. I was not pleased that she was confusing a holiday in honor of a Saint with an Irish legend.

Today, St. Patrick's Day has become an excuse to drink green beer and gorge ourselves on corned beef dinners. If you really take the time to learn about Saint Patrick, you'll discover that he was the patron saint and national apostle of Ireland who is credited with bringing Christianity to Ireland. He used the shamrock as a symbolic way to explain the Holy Trinity to pagans. I'm positive a Leprechaun was not in Saint Patrick's vision.

Earlier in the year, we were inundated with commercial efforts to tug on our collective heartstrings and buy our loved one's candy or better yet, expensive jewelry to express our love on Valentine's Day. The history of Valentine's Day — and its patron saint — is shrouded in mystery. But we do know that February has long been a month of romance. St. Valentine's Day, as we know it today, contains vestiges of both Christian and ancient Roman tradition. Today, the Catholic Church recognizes at least three different saints named Valentine or Valentinus, all of whom were martyred. According to one legend, Valentine actually sent the first "valentine" greeting himself. While in prison, it is believed that Valentine fell in love with a young girl — who may have been his jailer's daughter — who visited him during his confinement. Before his death, it is alleged that he wrote her a letter, which he signed "From your Valentine."

If we fast forward to present time, I believe our fear of offending different ethnic or religious groups has resulted in losing any true meaning of the holidays on our calendar. We've gone beyond an ecumenical approach to the season and it's become completely generic. For example, my wife hates it when people wish her "Happy Holidays" during the Christmas season. She will respond with "Merry Christmas." She refuses to let political correctness diminish her sacred belief in Christmas.

Our desire to be inclusive has resulted in either grouping holidays on our calendar or worse yet, commercializing them. Whether it's celebrating President's Day instead of specifically recognizing two of our great Presidents, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln; grouping Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa and New Year's into a generic time of year; or getting so caught up in the commercialism of holiday gift-giving, that we skip over Thanksgiving entirely, we are moving away from enjoying the true meaning of each holiday on our calendar.


I wonder what drives our compulsion to water down the importance of our holidays. Is it commercial greed or fear of litigation that if our zeal for celebrating a specific holiday offends the wrong person, we may find ourselves the defendant in a class action suit? I guess at the end of the end of the day, it's up to Donna and I to make sure we teach our children the true meaning of holidays on our calendar. I just can't wait until I can find a greeting card in a mainstream shop that allows me to express the love I have for my wife or perhaps even a Mother's Day card that can be given to both of us from our children. 

A woman can dream, can't she? 

"We can take a plane to Heaven."

Last month, my little girl Skye was listening to Michael Jackson's music. She adores Michael Jackson and likes to dance like him. She was sharing with me that she'd love to dance with him someday, and I explained that he's in Heaven, so she'd have to wait until she was in Heaven too before she could dance with him.

Not known for her patience, she quickly replied, "We can take a plane to Heaven." I smiled and told her that I wished we could. There are so many loved ones I would love to spend time with and I also am not patient enough to wait to join them in Heaven.

My sweet grandfather passed away only four months before Skye was born. I remember calling him to tell him that I was pregnant and his initial reaction was to tell me that I was crazy! He couldn't imagine that I would want to have another child when we were so happy with Hunter and I was also a busy career woman. What made it more unimaginable in his mind was that I was expecting twins. I laughed and told him I must have gotten my crazy gene from him. I assured him I'd be fine and made him promise that he'd stick around long enough to meet them.

Grampie had a fall at home several weeks after our conversation and died in April. He died shortly after I had miscarried one of the twins. So, I took comfort in knowing that our little angel, whom I named Matthew, would be met by one of the strongest and most loving men I knew. Grampie never knew that I had miscarried, so my parents and I lovingly hoped that he'd be pleasantly surprised to be met by a great-grandchild. Four months later, we welcomed Skye into the world and she's been taking the world by storm ever since.

I believe that children have so much innate wisdom. I loved that Skye's creativity hasn't been dampened by the skepticism life experience often brings. She refused to think that simply because Michael Jackson was in Heaven, it would defer one of her dreams. She's ready to board a plane to Heaven. I think that many of us can learn from her invincible spirit. Metaphorically, we can board a plane and spend some time with loved ones who have passed.

It may sound off the wall to some (pun intended, for those who know Michael), but I know the connections and relationships we build here on earth don't end because of a physical death. I'm still convinced that Grampie and my grandmother check in on us from time to time. When those seemingly random memories flood my mind, or I see my grandmother's favorite bird, the Cardinal, I know they are here watching me raise my beautiful children with my wonderful wife. And my wife's grandmother visits quite often, too. It's nice to know that we're being watched over by such strong and loving souls.

So, Michael, you just may see a cute vivacious blond visit with you very soon. Please make sure you introduce her to her great grandparents and her brother. Although, I'm pretty sure she's already met them.