you don't know this man

 a couple of weeks ago, i had a phone conversation with my mother. i shared with her, for the first time, about the serious depression i had been experiencing for the past two years. you may ask why i waited so long to share my condition with her. in all candor, i've hesitated because i had feared her reaction. well, i can assure you that she did not disappoint.

immediately upon sharing my struggles with my brain chemistry, she shared that i needed to find a church. she then followed up with her opinion that, "what i really needed was god." when i shared that my issues with depression go back to my twenties, she asked if i thought my struggles with my "lifestyle" was the cause. at the time i thought she was asking if my wrestling with my accepting my sexual orientation had prompted my depression. upon further reflection, taking into her volunteering that my life was obviously bereft of any religious support or the love of god, i realized she was sharing the typical evangelical christian perspective that lgbt people have miserable lives. as you can imagine, the conversation was a great time for me. it was topped off by her expressing her thanks for my sharing because it meant that she no longer needed to be concerned that my lack of engagement in our relationship had anything to do with her.

about a week ago, i was thinking about that conversation and how it reminded me of her continued dissatisfaction with my being gay, which continues to sadden me. i then thought of another conversation that happened a year or so ago. at that time i was letting her know about some added responsibility i was given at work. she asked me what i was making salary wise and from her reaction i could tell that she was pleased. she then stated that she was very proud of me.

i couldn't help but be struck by the contrast in the conversations, and how two characteristics elicited such different reactions. in both cases, i recognized that my mother hadn't focused on what i believe is more important. her disappointment with me shouldn't come from my desire to experience love and meaningful relationship from men nor should her pride be engendered by the fact that i have a good job. her opinions of the quality of my life should be based on how i live my life. do i try to be kind and generous. do i extend love and support into all my relationships. do i attempt to do my best in work that makes a difference in bettering the world around me. in another words, to borrow a phrase from one of the greatest speeches delivered in the 20th century, how my mother feels about me should be about "the content of my character."

i heard the song i'm posting on a recent car drive. it's from the musical parade which tells the story of a shameful incident in american history. it's a song that reflects my feelings about my mother's view of me as she chooses to hold to unfortunate perspectives about what it means to be gay.

you don't know this man - audra mcdonald

time is illusion

there are times when i've posted a blog entry with an accompanying song, following which i will hear another song that i think would also have been perfect for the entry. here's one of those times. here's one of those songs that very much speaks to the concept of encouragement in the midst of feeling as if you're aging out. i guess this is an amy grant weekend.

our time is now - amy grant (feat. carole king)

aging out?

there have been times of late (yesterday being one) that i am reminded that this year i turned 50. sometimes it is just a passing thought. other times (like yesterday) that reminder becomes the source of some pain or angst. i think what brought on the thought was the same pondering on uncertainty in my life that resulted in yesterday's entry. call it a corollary thought if you will.

anyway, with the recognition of my advanced age, i started wondering if, because i am a half century old, all the things that i have hoped for in work, relationship and life in general were quickly becoming out of reach for me. i wondered if was aging out from the opportunity to have the kind of fulfilled life that i've wanted, truly, for as long as i can remember (i mean i was drawing pictures of a future with a family, a house and a white picket fence when i was in second grade).

part of the reason for my concern is likely the fact that within an already youth obsessed broader culture is an even more youth focused gay culture. When twentysomething gay men are referring to thirtysomethings as "daddy" then i'm not only over the hill; i'm over the hill down the road and in a ditch somewhere.

it's not about wanting to be attractive to or desired by guys in their twenties. it's the about the fact that whenever i've gone through difficult times of dissatisfaction with my life, one of the things that has always gotten me through is the belief that i had enough time for my life to get better. now, there's this nagging feeling that maybe i've missed my chances for living a contented life. in other words, there's this perspective that if time hasn't run out completely, it's vanishing rapidly.

punctuating this point was a moment i had in the car yesterday. i was listening to a radio program and the hosts were discussing the life of a famous singer. as they were concluding the segment, they shared that this particular singer had died at 60 years old from cancer. next, the presenting host commented something to the effect of, "it's such a shame too because she never had the happy life that she so wanted."

with that expressed thought, i was reminded that not everything we want in life happens. there are lives where there are no happy endings and pain and disappointment are all that have been experienced. my blood runs cold at the thought that this might be my life, no matter how much i wish and hope and try for it not to be so.

time for another song. same artist. same album. same need for encouragement in the midst of uncertainty.

it's better not to know - amy grant (feat. vince gill)