Constant Memories of an Amazing Woman

Although it's been a busy day that ended with an interesting social encounter at the country club (which I will recount in a future post), I continue to be finding myself thinking almost non-stop of my mother and missing her gently, unassuming presence. She had a loving heart and never sought self-aggrandizement. Something some of my siblings clearly did not inherit from her. I will miss her always. The photos of from her wedding day with my dad - June 3, 1950. Ironically, the boyfriend's parents were married on exactly the same day at roughly the same time of day. Go figure.

Thugs Versus the Gays

The New York Times has a follow up story on the horrible gay torture story from yesterday. What is striking is that the story makes it pretty obvious that the attackers involved are a bunch of worthless losers who need someone to denigrate in order to make themselves feel good about themselves. It's a phenomenon that seems to be the norm with bullies and gay bashers. Meanwhile, the 30 year old victim by all accounts is a far more productive and decent member of society. It is sad that only by abusing and/or denigrating others can some stroke their own sick and maladjusted egos, be the abusers/bashers thugs like the ones involved in this story out of the Bronx or professional Christians who seem to only feel self-congratulatory when demeaning others. Oh, and note the way that the parents of these dead beats try to claim that their brutish sons are "good boys." Obviously, these parents failed miserably in raising such monsters - such violence and bigotry had to have been learned somewhere. Here are some highlights from the follow up story:
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The most severely brutalized victim was a gay 30-year-old Hispanic immigrant known in his Bronx neighborhood as “la Reina,” Spanish for “the Queen.” He was playful, flirty and always ready for a party, neighbors said. At the bodega below the apartment he shared with his brother, he often bought sodas for teenagers.
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The ringleader of the street crew was known on his block as a stocky 23-year-old thug with tattoos all over his arms and a pit bull at his side, a marijuana dealer who would hang out on a fire escape and would put teenagers to work selling drugs. He had previous arrests for gun possession and robbery and, as a neighbor put it, “looked like trouble.”
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Relatives of some of the suspects expressed shock at the charges on Saturday, describing them as young men who went to school and steered clear of trouble. . . . “Bryan is not a bad kid,” she said. “If he was there, he didn’t do anything.”
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Steven Caraballo’s parents said that he had enrolled in a G.E.D. program, lifted weights and played basketball with his three brothers. “He told me nothing is going on in the streets,” said his father, Jose. “He’s in school. He never got involved in this kind of thing.”

Another Charlottesville Weekend

This weekend I'm in Charlottesville watching after my mom while my sister and my brother-in-law go out of town for the weekend. The boyfriend has another wedding party to do this weekend in Hampton, so he and the dog remained at home. He of course will go to the wedding and reception and then on Sunday have brunch with our group of friends, a/k/a the "usual suspects. For me, it will be a weekend of reading. blogging and hanging out with my mom at my sister's house (she moved into an in-law apartment in the house back during the summer.)

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It is truly hard to see one's parents failing physically and in terms of mental acuity. I know it happens to all of us, but it is nonetheless difficult.

A Father Remembered

Today is my father's birthday - he would be 87 if he were still living. For newer readers, I lost him on September, 26, 2006 - on my son's 21st birthday - after a lengthy battle with multiple myloma. My dad was not a perfect parent by any means - I suspect that none of us are and I can only imagine some of the things my children think about me at times. Unfortunately none of us are given a hand book or enrolled in classes on being the perfect parent, so we ended up doing our best as we see it at the time with many shortcomings along the way.

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My dad definitely had his issues that haunted him and had never had a true family life growing up, something that I believe negatively impacted his relationship with me and my siblings. His Austrian immigrant parents died when he was three and he and his siblings were placed in The Graham School, part of a orphanage system founded in 1806 by Elizabeth (Mrs. Alexander) Hamilton and Isabella Graham. The orphanage was (and still is) located on a 40 acre site in Hastings-on-Hudson, New York, and employed a "cottage system" of smaller residences with a house mother. In this setting, my dad was at least able to grow up knowing his siblings and having some vague sense of a home. Ironically the son of one of the house mothers eventually married one of my mother's sisters. In the "graduation" photo below, I believe the woman in the center of the photo in white is my now 93 year old aunt. My dad and his siblings were/are all successful, even if not perhaps having been blessed with the emotional stable upbringing many take for granted.

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Moving forward in time, my relationship with my dad was strained for many, many years, in large part (at least looking back) because of my being in the closet and not allowing anyone to ever be too close to me lest they discover my "horrible secret." I'm convinced that being in the closet makes it difficult to have fully genuine relationships with anyone, including those we love most. But when I finally did "come out," my dad (and mother) gave me the priceless gift of accepting me and continuing to love me. Yes, he freaked out for a couple of days, but accepted not only me but subsequently my former partner who he treated like a son-in-law. I wish that all fathers would be as accepting of their gay children. Because of his acceptance, I found a sense of closure with him before he died. That was something priceless to me too. Happy birthday Dad.

The Virginia Tech Tragedy

Like people across the country, if not the entire world, I am shocked and saddened by the death and carnage that occurred at Virginia Tech on Monday. The senseless killings hit home, I guess, for several reasons.

First, the deaths of so many smart, young and talented people and the dedicated faculty members who lost their lives are a terrible loss not only to their families and Virginia Tech, but also the Commonwealth of Virginia and the entire country. Second, as a parent of three children, the youngest of which will be starting college in the fall, I can only imagine what the parents of the dead students are going through. It’s a parent’s worse nightmare come true – having nearly lost a child to meningitis seven years ago, I have experienced a sudden event that turn one’s world upside down. This event will no doubt haunt many parents sending their children off to college in the coming years. As a parent, one can never protect one’s children enough or try to all alleviate their unhappiness.

Third, I live in an area that sends hundreds of students to Virginia Tech – I keep scanning the list of the dead to make sure none of the children of friends or friends of my children appear. I cannot even count the number of Virginia Tech students my children and I collectively know. I continue to pray that no familiar name is yet to appear.

Lastly, as a Virginian this tragedy is a blot on the state’s name that will live on for many years to come – especially in light of Virginia’s pitiful gun control laws that make it so easy to obtain weapons. If it turns out that the identified shooter, Cho Seung-Hui, used extended ammunition clips, some of the carnage might have been avoided had the federal ban on automatic weapons not expired in 2004. It is also ironic that southwest Virginia where Virginia Tech is located is one of the political bastions in Virginia of those who oppose meaningful gun control laws. Perhaps this tragedy will wake up Virginians and others around the country to demand meaningful control laws.