_I'm currently in the middle of Nowheresville, New England visiting my DGF's parents, who live in a retirement home. For health reasons, her mom is rarely able to leave the home. And her father is legally blind, which prevents him from going anywhere on his own. All of this is to explain the following unlikely circumstance in which I found myself on Sunday morning: in a Catholic church, helping escort my DGF's father to Mass. I've only been to Mass once before, and that was a funeral Mass (or, as I incorrectly called it yesterday, a "death mass"), so this was a new experience for me. I was instructed ahead of time not to take communion, because I'm not Catholic. (I was baptized Christian, but this is, I learned, unsatisfactory in the eyes of the Catholic church.) My DGF is not practicing, but was baptized Catholic, so according to her father, she was allowed to take Communion if she promised to go to confession within the next 30 days (which she was unwilling to promise). That's right--not 31 days. Not 35. 30. (Later, we looked for this rule online and it seems that you actually have to have been to confession in the 30 days before receiving Communion, but we still aren't totally sure.) Mass was short. Like, way short. Like under an hour short. We went to the 11 am Mass and made it to breakfast by noon. Perhaps because of the service's length, almost no one bothered to remove their coats. My most recent churchgoing experience before that was an evangelical-type Baptist church, where the service always lasted over two hours, plus socializing afterward. I kind of admired the Catholic efficiency. There were maybe 250 people attending mass, only five of whom were non-white. Don't get me wrong--I'm fine with white people (some of my best friends are white people), but there was something disconcerting about being in a nearly all-white room. (Yeah, I'm white, too. But still.) Interestingly, one of the five non-white people happened to be the priest, who I think was Latino, and spoke with a heavy accent. It was kind of heartening that all these white people, the great majority of whom looked to be 60 or older, had someone of color as their religious leader--a trend that I've since learned is not uncommon in the Catholic church, since many young priests these days come from non-English-speaking countries, particularly Third World countries. The church program (which was printed in color, something I'm not sure Protestants would allow) didn't say what was happening when in the service, so I just tried to stand, kneel, and sit when I was supposed to. There was a great deal of ceremony involved. Continuing to survey the attendees, I began getting a distinct sense that this particular church was more the Santorum variety of Catholic than the Kennedy variety--an impression reinforced by the advertisement of a Planned Parenthood vigil later in the week. When it came time to take Communion, I was pretty sure that lots of people wouldn't go, given the rules about 30 days and being baptized Catholic. But as it turned out, my DGF and I were the only people who did not take Communion. As the people in our row quietly filed to the front of the church, we quietly did not follow them. This was met with disapproving glances from the other parishioners--glances which lingered for an awkwardly long time, shifting from me to my DGF and back again, and I suspect that around this time, it began occurring to said parishioners that we might be not be the nice young men we had originally appeared to be, but rather homosexual women. (My DGF, who tends not to notice these things, insists that "no one really looked at us." I assure you she is wrong.) Since Lent is approaching, the sermon was largely about giving things up. I guess one rationale for Lent is that giving something up for 40 days kind of purifies you. I was not raised Catholic (decades ago, my grandmother was excommunicated for getting divorced, which soured our family on Catholicism long before I was born). Nonetheless, I emerged from childhood with a near-preternatural susceptibility to guilt, and the whole idea of Lent appeals greatly to this susceptibility. I mentally counted how many days I'd already gone without ice cream (three) and wondered if I could get retroactive credit. At our post-Mass brunch, I asked my DGF's father about my retroactive credit idea, but he said it didn't count. He also squelched my idea to give something up that I don't feel a need to have anyway, such as cilantro or penises. I asked my DGF's dad what he was giving up, and it turns out that people over 59 don't have to give anything up at all. Immediately it became clear why the church had been packed with senior citizens--they were clamoring to take advantage of the loophole. Personally, I'm no atheist. My own philosophy is closer to "All steeples point to heaven" (something my excommunicated grandmother used to say). Well, maybe not all steeples, but you get the idea. But the whole experience of Mass made me think about how different my life might have been if I was raised in a church like this one. So many different religions and people and subcultures trying to do what they think is right, but simultaneously certain they've cornered the market on God.
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I recently read this story in the New York Times about a photographer who takes pictures of old animals. I find the pictures beautiful, and they made me think about aging. I've long thought societies that revere and cherish older people have gotten it right. I live in the U.S., where people start saying they're "getting old" in their thirties or forties, where people love getting carded, and where it's considered insulting for someone to guess that a person (especially a woman) is older than she really is.
I'd like to think that the lesbian community is different, and that we have tons of respect for the older (by "older," I mean 60s or 70s plus) dykes among us. But I'm not sure this is true. More than once, I've heard people my own age (30s) talk disparagingly about older lesbians, saying that they don't "get it" with regards to boi culture, or trans culture, or some other aspect of contemporary queer life. (And, to be fair, I've occasionally heard older lesbians say disparaging things about queer youth culture, too.) Why does this age divide exist? Maybe because LGBTQ history and culture have evolved so rapidly in the last 50 years. Maybe those who came of age in the Stonewall era share less with their younger counterparts than is true for straight people. I don't think so, though; I suspect it's a manifestation of a broader tendency to dismiss older people rather than integrating them into society and seeking their wisdom. And why does this tendency exist? Are we obsessed with "progress," which we conflate with youth and newness? Does hanging out with old people scare us because we don't understand it? Does it force us to confront our own mortality? It's especially important for the LGBTQ community to take care of its older members, because in many ways, it's harder to be an old dyke than it is to be an old straight woman. Here are a few reasons why:
Do you ever hang out with older lesbians? What's it like? Tell us about your experiences: positive, negative, whatever. And if you're a 60+ lesbian reading this blog, I'd love to hear your perspective about younger queers. _Thus far, my 2012 has been characterized by two rounds of pancakes and four episodes of "Breaking Bad" (we're halfway through season 4). This has been typical of the past week (just add Bananagrams, cookies, and friends, and you'll get the picture). And although I'm a tad embarrassed to own up to this orgy of gluttony and sloth, it's been a wonderful relief to give myself permission to take some time off.
I'm not much on New Year's resolutions. I make resolutions all the time. Sometimes I stick with them, sometimes not. For example, I was once a vegetarian for a month and a vegan for a different month. For three weeks, I wrote every day. When my resolve peters out, I tend not to feel bad, but look at the resolutions more as experiments. "Interesting that I no longer feel so compelled to keep vegan," I might think to myself while chowing down on a buffalo burger. Maybe my approach has been too forgiving. In any case, I usually keep my resolutions to myself. I don't want anyone bothering me about them, and to be totally honest, I don't want to be embarrassed in front of other people if I fail. But this year, I've decided not only to make some resolutions for 2012, but to post them here. Maybe y'all will help keep me honest (and maybe my attempt to stick to these will produce some interesting fodder for the blog). RESOLUTION #1: Post something (basically) every day. I love writing Butch Wonders and would love to reach more readers. So I'm committing to writing 300 posts in 2012. Sure, I may sometimes cop out and just post a sentence or two, but still. 300. Big commitment. Because I love you. RESOLUTION #2: Finish various writing projects. I won't bore you with the details, since it's not related to BW, but it includes some articles, a novel, and a creative nonfiction piece. I've got my work cut out for me. RESOLUTION #3: Support my DGF through the remaining five months of her new job's probationary period, even when it is hard and various circumstances compromise my support abilities. My DGF had the courage to start a new career post-40 (she's a little older than me), and I really admire her for it. Plus, she is awesome and totally worth it! RESOLUTION #4: See my parents about once a month. They only live two hours away from me, and I want to see them more, even if it's just to meet halfway for a quick lunch on a weekend. My life is pretty different from theirs, and I think sometimes that makes it easier for people to grow apart. But I'm committed to not letting that happen. RESOLUTION #5: Lose 20 lbs, in part by trail running. Being overweight zaps your energy and is bad for your heart. My body hangs onto weight about as tightly as Marcus Bachmann hangs onto his heterosexuality. Plus I'm not willing to completely give up Ben and Jerry's. So this one will be a challenge. I should probably lose more than 20, but it's a start. (Also the least imaginative resolution ever.) Trail running will help me with this goal. It will also make my dog reeeeally happy. Hm. That's all I can think of now, though I'm sure there are others. I'd like to list things that are wackier and more exciting: Climb Mt. Kilamanjaro! Become a hand model! Learn to play the Didgeridoo! But I suppose this is a list of resolutions, not a bucket list, so I'm allowed to keep it pedestrian. Did you make any resolutions for 2012? Christmas falls on a Sunday this year, which means that if you want to order any gifts online, you have to do so now to get them in time for the weekend. After trying to find something good for my grandparents--and then realizing I had to order one-day shipping--it occurred to me that some of you, dear readers, might be facing last-minute online shopping challenges, too. Here are ideas for grandparents, bosses, aunts, uncles, college roommates, and other people you love dearly but don't see often enough to know what they'd like. I'm only including items that you can still order in time for Christmas. _1. Gift baskets. Who doesn't love receiving a little bounty of snacks? One of my favorites under $50 is this 1950s Retro Candy Box ($34.99, pictured left), which includes Necco Wafers, Chick O' Sticks, Choward's, and other sugary blasts from the past. And, for aunts and grandmas who love girlie stuff, check out this Victorian Lace Tea, Spa & Treats Clock Gift Chest ($64.60), which includes candles, lotion, bath gel, and more--all in a wooden chest inlaid with a working clock. 2. Tea Chests and Tea Sets. A classy gift that's hard not to like, tea chests come in a variety of styles. Try to get some brand of tea that isn't stocked at your local grocery store. I recommend this Wissotzky 60 Dessert Flavored Teas in an Ebony Tea Chest ($29.99). Tea sets are good bets, too. I like this cool Japanese one ($68.95, pictured right). If that's out of your price range, how about a simple infuser/mug set ($19.53)? 3. Gift Cards. These are also kind of impersonal, but they'll do in a pinch. Plus, don't you love receiving them? This one from Amazon features free one-day shipping. It's even better than cash, because you feel obligated to spend it on something fun. You can also get something more specific, like a certificate to their favorite restaurant or movie tickets. 4. A Coffee Table Book. These serve a bunch of purposes: showcasing great photography, impressing guests, and messing up orderly bookshelves by being wider than all the other books. You can find these on virtually any topic, from 1960s surf photography to Andy Goldsworthy's nature-centered art (pictured left) to the history of New York City to (brace yourself) hipster puppies. There's also a whole genre of amusing websites now available in book form, such as a compilation of hilariously wrong test answers, passive-aggressive notes, and Cake Wrecks. Think of them as the Harold and Kumar of coffee table books. 5. Board games are always a hit with families. Think Apples to Apples, Bananagrams, Cranium, or a classic like Scattergories (my longtime favorite) or Pictionary. Okay, you have less than 15 hours left... shop like the wind, butches! The huge amount of responses I got to my last post made me wonder if queers are more likely to feel alienated from their families than straight people are. I mean, if your family doesn't respect your queerness, this is pretty self-evident. But I know a lot of queers whose family is cool with their queerness, but they still feel alienated. Why would this be?
One reason I can think of is the kid factor. Plenty of queers have kids, but on average, we're less likely to procreate than our heterosexual counterparts (partly because homo sex ≠ babies, and partly, I'm guessing, for a whole host of other social/cultural/maybe-even-biological reasons). Holidays tend to center around a traditional family structure, and also tend (for good reason) to center around kids. Sometimes we don't really fit into that. My own family is an example of this. I have a brother (I'll call him DB for Dear Brother) who is married and has a young daughter. I love my niece dearly, and love DB and his wife as well. Partly because DB has a kid, a trend has emerged: My parents and DB's wife's parents, who live 10-12 hours' drive apart, spend Christmas together. Actually, it's more like my parents have been subsumed into DB's wife's family, since the group includes many other members of her family as well. So DB and his wife each get to be with both sets of parents every Christmas. This is convenient for them, and also great for my niece, since she gets to be with all four of her grandparents every year. As you can probably figure out, this leaves me in a slightly weird place. Do my DGF and I drive 10-12 hours to spend Christmas with DB's wife's family? Last year, we did; we rented a car and spent some time on our own and some time with them. This year, however, they are renting a house in a remote, snowy location and spending four nights there. DGF and I were invited to come (though we were not invited to help decide where Christmas would happen). DGF and I decided we would not come along this year. Our decision was met with much sadness and consternation by my parents. The first two years it happened, I was annoyed that my parents decided to join a new clan. But now I am at peace with it: they want to be with their grandkid, and this way they can see her every Christmas. I understand. The hard part for me is the expectation that I will always join them. My mom is upset that I am not coming this year. And while I am sad that I will not be with my parents, DB, sister-in-law, and niece, I do not wish to drive 12 hours to spend four nights with my DB's wife's family. They are nice people. But I have decided I will come along some years, and not others. This is the first year I've said no. I'm okay with my parents' choice about how to spend their Christmas, but I wish they better understood my decision to sit this one out. I'm not trying to prove or anything by not going, either. I just don't feel like going again this year. If I had kids, things would probably be different. Either my parents would switch off between my brother and I for Christmas, or I guess I would go along so the cousins could be together. But I don't have kids, and I don't foresee having them in the near future. And so as a result, Christmas is as I've described above. And it just leaves me feeling weird and sad. Am I being selfish? Independent? Petulant? Self-actualizing? I don't know. I wish Christmas wasn't loaded with so many weird emotions. I'm hoping that this year, the DGF and I can start some traditions of our own. Last night, we lit a candle for Hanukkah (we're not Jewish) and I gave her all of her Christmas presents. It was wonderful and unexpected and romantic. On Christmas, we're planning to spend some time with our friend M, and some time with our friends C&D (C is my butch buddy; D is her awesome wife). Maybe we'll think of some other traditions to incorporate. Will we bake cookies together? Go to church? Eat Chinese food with Jewish friends on Christmas eve? Who knows. But despite my weird guild/sadness/confusion about family stuff this year, I'm looking forward to creating some traditions that are mine and my DGF's. How about you guys? Any sticky family situations you're avoiding? Any cool new holiday tradition ideas that you and your DGF share? |
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