in a really rare moment, we had the amazing chance to have our children and their partners gather around the dining room table with us. to say i was thrilled would be an absolute understatement. it had been six years since we had actually been together – my two children and us. it was a giant gift and i am grateful for it.
plates, pasta, wine, bread – all were merely props as i gazed around me, watching these beloved faces, listening to laughter and conversation. i tried hard to memorize all of it. these brilliant, creative seeds of tomorrow, bright lights of real humans, of good people.
the next day we hiked, just d and me, after everyone had left. we talked about our blink-of-an-eye time with our adult children, about the fun chaos in the kitchen the night before, about the teasing and the ribbing. and i found myself holding onto the filmy threads of each moment before they flew away.
the photographs will help, of course. they will be posted in our kitchen and i will pass by them, often looking at them and smiling. but inside, i will hold onto the way it all felt, the heart-stopping hunger i had felt longing for a moment together, the breath i could exhale as i sat at the same table with my children and their partners or as we all clustered together in photographs.
but i know i won’t be able to hold onto all of it. time tugs at memory like that.
and the clustered fluffs of seeds will be tugged out of the pod by gentle breezes and fierce winds. they will swirl about and land somewhere, planting. another milkweed.
and i hope there will be another table-sitting somewhere soon – all together – as these brilliant humans go about their all-grown-up lives, swirling about with gentle breezes and fierce winds at their backs.
“we have a choice: to spend a lot of time fighting for what we know is right, or to just accept what we know is wrong. we must stand up for our rights and the rights of others, even if most people say we can’t win.” (susan polis schutz)
the time is now. we have a choice.
one of the things i didn’t mention from my view of the IG post of the mom speaking to her little five year old son – about listening to his teacher during a school emergency – also hit home for me.
addressing the context of that post was a comment from another young mom. she wrote about her reluctance to let her little boy wear light-up shoes to school. this should stop you in your tracks – like every other single thing in talk-talk about school shootings.
think about this.
she decided not to let her little boy – her five year old – wear light-up shoes to school.
light-up shoes.
and why not, you ask?
so that – in the event that a mass shooter is in the room – her tiny little boy does not light up in a dark classroom by moving his feet ever so slightly.
it is a despicable and horrifying thought and a stunning picture of where this country has come in zero effort of protecting its children.
but, hey, don’t forget all those thoughts and prayers – pathetic, passive excuses for inaction.
my little boy – now all grown up – wore light-up sneakers for a vast part of his little childhood. he loved them and we loved that he loved them. it never once occurred to me that his tiny shoes could be a death sentence for him. it never once occurred to me that he might light up in a dark classroom or a dark closet or a dark stairwell. it is a grossly vapid conscience this country has adopted – that has parents owning defense for their children against guns to the point of picking out footwear that doesn’t more easily enable a person with a weapon of mass destruction to kill their child.
what the absolute hell????
and now, that same little boy of mine – who is all grown up – who is gay – who is a recording and performing artist – lives in a city upon which the administration of this country has just declared war. announced in the most blatantly depraved meme, this administration is invading, looking for the light-up shoes.
the rights of the people of the city of chicago are being annihilated with this invasion. it is a constitutional failure of epic proportion.
and yet, i know that we have family members cheering on the sidelines, which, frankly, makes me want to vomit. even the silent – those who refuse to speak about what is happening – accepting what is wrong – they, too, are complicit. how.do.they.sleep?
this is my son – our son. these are his friends, his colleagues. this is his community. this is a city just down the road full of neighborhoods and people, diverse and vibrant, doing their best at a time the leadership is doing their worst.
just like every other place upon which they are siccing their thugs.
it is unconscionable.
and the time is now.
and everything inside me wants to write to our son and implore him not to wear light-up shoes.
in ways i can explain and can’t explain, i am really dedicated to sephora. a few years back when our daughter was visiting we went to a greenhouse and nursery. she has a green thumb and it was cherished time to walk around with her and chat. she pointed to this plant – an arrowhead – and said she was growing one back at her home. i instantly decided to add it to our sunroom and named it after another adventure we had the days she was here. it is important to me that sephora thrives, just like charlie – a heartleaf philodendron she gifted me previously.
i watch sephora like a hawk…always trying to figure out if she needs more water, less water, more sun, less sun, more fresh air, less draft. we have a complex relationship; i think sephora knows the power she has over me and she wields it abundantly. i comply nevertheless. like i said, dedicated to its survival.
even as sephora’s individual leaves turn yellow from time to time (causing me much angst) i find this plant to be so beautiful – the light from the window causing the leaves to glow and radiantly light the space.
a girlfriend and i were talking about the cleaning-out process in our homes. she has readily cleared out much of what her two daughters had accumulated – but not taken with – in their growing-up years. they both live nearby now – in the next town over – all grown-up – and she sees them and their families regularly every week. my friend no longer has much stuff of their youth; with their proximity, she found it easier to dispose of most of what they no longer wanted, even in recent years giving away all the baby clothes and paraphernalia she had saved for possible reuse. she was surprised to hear i still have so much of all this. she laughed at my difficulty – surely a form of paralysis – in getting rid of everything.
i thought about this a bit, trying to figure out why i am so thready – besides the fact that i was born thready, have always been thready and likely will always be thready.
i realized that, though some of this is simply my heart-on-my-sleeve personality, it is also a holding-on of sorts. a peril of motherhood.
it would be dreamy – absolutely dreamy – to have my adult children living nearby, merely minutes away. it would be amazing to see them often, though always respectful of their busy lives. we are fortunate and joyous that our son is just one big city away, a couple-hour backroads drive or an hour plus on the train. to be able to jaunt over and see our daughter at any old time would make my heart burst. she has lived far away – with many states in-between us – for over a decade now, so visits require planning and are much more complicated.
i remember when my parents would come visit from florida – or we would go there – it would be an intense time of visiting in the days they were here – or us there – before it was time for them – or us – to leave and a big expanse of time would gap our shared in-real-life moments. i believe it is harder that way – the concentrated-period-of-time visiting instead of bits and pieces of life scattered like seed throughout the calendar.
in moments of looking through my momma’s things after she died, i could see the remnants and relics of me that she had saved. for in her lack of ability to see me as often as she would have wished, she held on with artifacts of our time together. the dots lined up. i completely got it and it became one explanation for the difference in the ability of my friend and me to let-go of stuff.
my holding-on – of the stuff left behind, the trinkets of their growing-up, the mementos of any grown-up visit we have had, wherever they have lived – it is the holding-on of love.
as claire middleton (the sentimental person’s guide to decluttering) points out, “we think that keeping all of those things will let us keep a little of each child who left us.”
my heart skips a beat.
ahhh. to be a thrower-outer, a clean-sweeper.
i’m working on it. i just had my first two sales on the resale site poshmark, which gives me incentive again. the baby and toddler clothes are bundled up and waiting patiently to go to the mission that gives them away to people in the city who need them. the cassettes are in a box, to be sent with payment for recycling. there are things on marketplace and ebay and craig’s list and the goodwill stack is ever-growing.
but nothing, though, stops my my-name-is-kerri-and-i-am-thready momheart from the wistful.
and, as i gaze at sephora’s stunning golden leaf – sunlight shining through it – i hold my beautiful golden daughter close, blow her a kiss, and miss her.
“the powerful, loving bonds formed between individuals who are not biologically related but who choose to be family…highlighting the strength of these non-traditional family units and the unconditional love they provide.”(the trevor project)
so, dna ain’t everything.
i, for one, have found it personally shocking at times to be related to my similar-dna-stranded relatives. particularly now. for one – incorrectly – assumes that one is aligned with those in one’s family – with values and love and respect leading the way. this, however, is not always true. and – shockingly – families, like friends or colleagues, are quite capable of throwing others under the bus. shocking, indeed.
so we seek those who support us, who support our world view, who challenge and push, who protect, who encourage others to be their best and most authentic self.
in this – incredibly the 21st century – with a twisted administration – we are faced with making decisions of estrangement – boundary setting that is squarely focused on the upholding of each other and our rights and freedoms. it is impossible to pretend to be “family” if members have chosen to undermine the rights and freedoms of other members. dna schmee-n-a.
a week ago we spent the weekend attending milwaukee pride events at which our EDM artist son performed. his friends welcomed us with hugs and dancing and conversation. we were embraced and felt the love. i cannot imagine why anyone would reject or endanger such a community – LGBTQIA – so inclusive of all. it is incomprehensible.
one of his friends came up to us while we were dancing and drew us close in to talk above the music. “if i had parents like you, i’d have everything,” he said into our ears. i cried as he walked away.
my grown children have a wonderful father. they have a generous-of-spirit stepmom who cares about them. they have me. and they have david, who has been supportive in every way that a caring father can be. they are every much his children in this last decade. we all share them and join together as the circle of one-generation-previous people around them who want them to be their best and most authentic selves. isn’t that what parenthood is? they are just lucky enough to share dna with two of the four of us. but we are all their parents.
these are days of non-traditional. we are fortunate to live in these days – days of wisdom and cultivated illumination – when love is simply love and the bonds of family extend beyond ancestry lines. i can only hope that we all celebrate each other – in our differences and in our sameness. we can seek family with bonds based on unconditional love and support. if we can look at our biological families and freely choose each other, we are lucky. if our own families endanger others or refuse to see or value them, it is incumbent upon us to draw lines in the sand. this life keeps ticking. it would seem infinite love – acceptance, inclusion, belonging – would be the way to live these tiny lives we get.
be the people whom others choose. “chosen families have helped queer people survive and experience radical love and joy at a time when their rights, and in some cases their very lives, are threatened.” (alex welch)
radical love and joy. life is too short for anything else.
no matter how many fresnels, how many gels, how many follow spots, how many tracks, how much confetti, how many bubbles, how many furries – it does not match the energy in the giant pavilion as it built through their performance.
our son and his musical EDM duo partner aced their set – their music setting the heartbeat – and, from a new vantage point in the middle of the crowd, it was sheer joy to watch.
PRIDE milwaukee was a celebration of freedom – freedom to respectfully love whomever you choose to love. there is nothing like being embraced and encouraged by a festival-sized crowd to be whoever you are. it’s like there was a mash-up of the words of cher’s “believe” and marlo thomas’ “free to be” ringing in my ears. empowering. tolerance.
and i stood in the middle of all of these thousands of people – all just being who they are, all dancing and laughing and hugging and feeling in their skin – wondering how anyone can reject acceptance, how anyone can squelch love and draw parameters, how anyone can vote against LGBTQ rights and freedoms, how anyone can wish to instill fear in a community, how anyone can righteously think they are above others.
i was proud to be at PRIDE.
one of our son’s friends said, “you are such supportive parents.”. i thought to myself – wow – that’s redundancy at its best – “supportive” and “parents”. aren’t they one and the same?
yes, i was proud to be at PRIDE.
on saturday night, surrounded by thousands of others, i danced with my hands to the sky, grateful to be here in this community of people loving people, granting each other the freedom to be, grateful to choose to be a mom who was there.
and then, the reality of right-now crept in.
and i thought about the peril part. the danger of this precipice between democratic freedom and autocratic elimination of rights, of silencing LGBTQ, of the denial of acceptance and empowerment and support.
and i thought of the deplorable act of voting for this abhorrent administration – against family members or friends or people in one’s own community.
i thought about ALL the cruel policies, sweeping up and discarding in the name of xenophobia and racism, banning rights, freedoms, hotlines to help, books, HIV/AIDS resources in the name of homophobia, gleefully destroying healthcare, food security, assistance in the name of oligarch wealth. it’s sickening.
“there’s a land that i see/where the children are free/and i say it ain’t far to this land from where we are/take my hand, come with me/where the children are free/come with me, take my hand, and we’ll live
in a land where the river runs free/in a land through the green country/in a land to a shining see/and you and me are free to be/you and me
every boy in this land grows to be his own man/in this land, every girl grows to be her own woman/take my hand, come with me/where the children are free/come with me, take my hand, and we’ll run
to a land where the river runs free/to a land through the green country/to a land to a shining sea/to a land where the horses run free/to a land where the children are free
and you and me are free to be/and you and me are free to be/and you are me are free to be you and me” (1972…free to be…you and me – stephen lawrence/bruce hart)
and, astonished at the speed at which evil takes over, i wondered: where did this land go?
every single bit of the dandelion that is you is unprepared for the flight of the fluffy feathery pappus of the puffball off and beyond.
though the flight of these filaments is your ultimate goal – to give lift to these children who have merely been loaned to you for a time – their jet-stream-like flight takes you by surprise, leaves you a little breathless and a little astounded as you watch them fly, dispersed by the wind. your hearts – the extra ones that were birthed in you at the time of their arrival – clench a little in the moment of their departure, wonder at the very, very big change in how you are then defined in the world.
and you realize, perhaps, that you suddenly understand how your own sweet momma (and dad) felt. the moment they retired and moved. the moment you moved away, likely to not return to live in their locale again. the moment you no longer stop by at any old time. the moment it required more planning, more travel, more arrangements to see each other.
and you try to adjust – your little dandelion heart works hard to put it all into perspective, to recognize the natural order of things, to grok that this is the way of the universe – birth, growth, independence. it is the way of the dandelion. as beautiful as it was, the yellow flower was not the pinnacle; the puffball is essential for these amazing children to go, to become, to make their mark on the world, to change things for all time.
but that same little dandelion heart sometimes just aches a little – for the days they were satisfied with lap-sitting and book-reading together, or the days you endlessly shopped together, or the days you sat on the sidelines of their game or their match or their race or their concert or their recital, or the days you simply were together – sharing space and time – sharing time in the same space.
i knew my own momma was my biggest fan – despite any disagreement we might have had along the way. she was the cheerleader of my life in the same way that i carry pompoms for my own children, in all their sharing of steep summits and challenges and bliss and angst. they will always be the first thing i think of in the morning and the last thing at night as i tuck them in with whispered prayers i poof to them like blown kisses or – maybe – like dandelion pappus in the breeze.
time will keep moving and i can feel it now.
“it’s friday again,” i look at d.
“and it’s june,” he replies.
wow.
and my grown children keep growing – in their own physical, concentric worlds. and i keep going – in mine. and when those two worlds meet – when they bump up against each other and sit still for a spell – my dandelion heart is ecstatic.
one of my favorite mother’s day cards came from david last year. we make all our cards for each other and on his he drew me, looking at a starry sky. there are two arrows pointing at individual stars and inside he wrote, “for the two times you wished upon a star.”
the wisps of miracles-of-all-kinds floating about the galaxy – the ones that became my children – have my everlasting gratitude.
for i have learned of the infinite spectrum that is motherhood. the triumphs and the failings, the angst and the bliss, the hugs and the pushaways, the unconditional love that somehow birthed an extra heart when each child was born – gracing me with whole hearts for each of them and with a heart to do the rest of the work, the heavy lifting of living.
in a world that is full of galactic nonsense, the real essence becomes more and more clear to me: each wisp of intense beauty, tiny nuances of time passing, the dust that is me – in a river full of stardust.
every time i turn a shampoo bottle over and empty the remains into a new shampoo bottle – each upside-down tap of the bottle, drawing the last vestiges of shampoo to the top, makes me think of her.
every bird in the backyard, every endcrust of bread, every leftover dinner, every time i do laundry or make lists, merry morning sunshine.
every time we use the wire cheese slicer, every time i pass by the snake plant, every time i tend our houseplants, every time i thank someone who has generously served us in some way.
every time i see a dachshund or a hosta, every time i think of Long Island, every time i write in my calendar, every area rug on a wood floor, sweet potatoes, math.
every time i make do, every time i save something for ‘special’, every time i turn a few specific phrases or use a coupon, collect rocks or driftwood, every time i make – or have – french fries or iced tea.
every time i see liverwurst or have rye toast, catch the aroma of roast beef in an oven or see a jar of ragu sauce.
when i see beets, when i have onion dip, when I devour crumb cake or chips ahoy, when i coffee-sit, when i repurpose things, when i think about baked ziti or darning socks.
when i defend how to pronounce “sauna”, when i see the “sisu” sign in my studio, spiral notebooks and scrap copies, when i hear “wowee!”, when i stood at the edge of the grand canyon.
every time. i think of my sweet momma. and I wonder how it is possible that she left this world ten years ago today. ten. ten years without her. ten years of not being able to pick up the phone and call her. ten years without mom hugs. ten years without a mom who would listen to any story i told her – any number of times i told it – knowing that my biggest fan was this woman, who was ahead of her time in so many ways.
i wonder how she is feeling now about the turn of all she left behind. i wonder if she has that certain stink eye she’d get, wishing to admonish this country’s current leaders and those following in lock-step. i wonder if the public deflection and distraction of some – avoiding the truth of their choice, avoiding taking responsibility for that choice, literally cheerleading this horror, loudly or silently – i wonder if seeing all that makes her crazy. knowing my momma – and her humanitarian and political leanings – i’m fairly certain she is pretty “irked” – as she would say. she is likely fired up and giving someone a piece of her mind somewhere on the other side. as high-road as she was (and, probably, is) she is not one to put up with the destruction of the country for which she and my dad sacrificed.
and so, every time i speak up or speak out i think of her. every time i voice absolute protection of the rights of members of my family. every time i express horror for the dismantling of this democracy and the cruel disenfranchising of people of the populace. every time i see another nail skewering women. every time i read about the dumbing-down, the elimination of history, the blunting of truth, the big-time grift. every time i stand up for what she taught me about kindness to people. every time. i think of her.
and every time i see the print “live life, my sweet potato” i think of her. and i miss her. yet again.
we went to chicago PRIDEFEST on saturday. it was in the 90s and a sweltering day. though we have taken the train countless times to chicago – and to the festival last year – we decided to drive down this time. we did not check the chicago cubs calendar first. yikes. the north halsted boystown area was a hot mess with the concurrence of cubs fans and PRIDE. so.many.cars. it literally took us an hour and a half to go just merely two miles to get to our son’s condo where he had saved us a parking spot.
we breathed a sigh of relief as we pulled into his alley, driving toward our parking spot…until…we saw that someone else had taken it. uh-oh. though we had planned lots of extra time, we now had 23 minutes until his performance on the waveland stage. i considered double-parking and rejected it, thinking littlebabyscion would be towed. clearly, we needed to go back out into the fray and find a spot. with our senses of humor still intact, we drove down the alley and exited back onto his road. somehow there was the miraculous appearance of a spot on his street…miraculous except for the signs everywhere that say “tow zone: no parking on cubs game days except with a parking permit”.
the four guys on the sidewalk in this boystown ‘hood were walking somewhere briskly when i jumped out of the car to ask them about the seriousness of the signage and parking, explaining the whole story and apologizing for telling the whole story (to which jordan kindly said, “it’s ok!!”). bryson – understanding the imperative of a mom getting to see her EDM artist son perform and notmissabeat – immediately told me he’d run back to his place and get me a temporary parking pass he had and no, i didn’t need to pay him anything at all. the generosity of these guys!! what’s not to love?
we parked and walked as fast as possible to the entrance our son suggested. the lines were astonishingly long but the security guard got us in quick as a flash when he heard our son was performing in four minutes. what’s not to love?
we found our way to the camera by the middle of the intersection – where our son had directed us. and we found ourselves surrounded by his friends, every one of them hugging us hello, an unparalleled warm community. his dear friend brought us a gatorade, another brought us a water, another – at the end of his performance – a canned adult beverage. what’s not to love?
we danced and visited and celebrated with thousands of others all smushed in to watch. our son’s friends – all so kind – wandered over again and again, checking in on us and hanging out. i gave out “be kind” buttons to anyone and everyone around. beachballs volleyed across the audience and PRIDE flags waved in the air. their set was amazing – the music kept everyone upbeat and happy. it was thrilling to watch – just like at milwaukee’s PRIDEFEST a couple weekends ago – where i took this photo from the VIP section where our son – since he was performing on the giant dance pavilion stage – made sure we were given access. i just don’t know what’s not to love about this.
although it is verrrrry unusual these days for me to wear a pair of shorts out and about if we aren’t hiking on some trail, i did anyway. because pride encourages people to be simply who they are. and every body shape and size and color is accepted and celebrated. i never had even one of those self-conscious “why did i wear this?” moments. even as likely one of the oldest people in the crowd, i felt completely included. what’s not to love?
i believe that even if i were not the mom of a gay son, i would still feel the same way. i believe that i would still completely support the LGBTQIA community. i believe i would still wonder – when i see others pushing back or curling their lips in disdain and exclusion – what’s not to love?
because i believe in love. i believe in loving one another. i believe in the most basic tenets – of kindness and generosity, peace and fairness and equality, respect and truth and – the big one – love.
and, though it shows a (disgusted) glitch in my own acceptance-of-others-meter, i have a really hard time understanding why anyone – on this good earth – would have the effrontery to not find acceptance-of-others part of life itself. who among us has that right? to eliminate others? to treat others less-than? to exclude because of a person’s gender identification or sexual orientation? “how does that even affect you?”, i wonder of those who marginalize LGBTQIA, who promote ‘anti’ ideology, who bully-pulpit, who hypocritically pontificate, who write or encourage or vote for laws or politicians that minimalize and restrict. without thinking. or sorting. or discerning. or checking in with their heart. i just don’t get it.
i was proud to go to PRIDE. i always will be. what’s not to love?
reverse threading 