Eyes Wide Open

Dad always said he loved when I would write.  He said I could somehow always make him feel, and anybody who knows my dad knows that wasn’t always easy.  But as far as a eulogy, this is the best I could do after Amy insisted I remove all the inappropriate jokes.

Understanding how Dad thought or felt was often reserved for those quiet 1:1 moments, of which I had many.  He wasn’t an over-sharer.  In fact one of the blessings my wife afforded me was the practice of reviewing safe and possible conversation topics prior to visits, not that I was very good at compiling, but it always helped.  

This last year nurses would call very often to ask me about what kind of man Dad was.  I started to just routinely joke that he was a pretty entitled white guy, just because I know that was the part they were struggling with.  My dad would get frustrated and angry if he wasn’t able to contact me, and on more than one occasion, he’d deal with this problem by throwing his phone.  Bad news is he wound up moving around a lot which left more in house phone lines to navigate. Good news was, there always seemed to be new phones to throw. We joke now when we’re dealing with 1st world problems that we’re just gonna go throw our phones just cause we like irony.  But that was only when he was helpless, or frustrated, in pain, angry or depressed, and that was the best that he could do sometimes at low energy.  But nobody should ever feel low energy.

 

I guess that was part of what we needed to face.

I had a complex relationship with him.  I both loved him and at times, resented him, both fairly and very unfairly.  I admired and I judged him.  I was struck by his generosity and furious at his selfishness, sometimes moment to moment.  I know him as a sap and a hard ass.  In some ways he was immensely intelligent and stoically stupid.  He was 8 steps ahead of anybody in a game of chess, but he rarely knew who he was playing.  I’ve built so much of who I am out of him - both his warning and example.  I am the teacher I am today as a result.

Growing up many times my dad was criticized for giving me too much freedom as a kid.  There were times those critiques were mine!  My dad saw how life makes us strong.  He believed we learn from experience.  And he didn’t have an ounce of patience.  And he knew full well how much was out of his control.

One time while teaching me to jump my car I found myself standing on its bumper in a corner hunched under a bunch of hanging bikes, holding cables in each hand to connect them to the battery when my dad warns me to “not touch metal” or the bled battery acid could “explode.”  I stood there stupid paralyzed trying not to let my knees buckle when it dawned on him what he’d done to me and we both just laughed and laughed...

But that’s the kind of life he knew and that’s the kind of life he gave me.  And in a lot of ways, that’s the kind of person I am.  I’ve learned that you don’t teach subjects.  You teach thought.  You teach language.  You teach access.  Teaching is all about facing your mortality because it’s not about answers or even questions.  It’s about facing your fears.  It’s about the unknown.  It’s about progress.  

We tell ourselves stories about why or what.  We narrate our lives like we’re heroes or victims but real life, love, art, magic, and intimacy stems from knowing full well all sides.  I watched him succumb to the silliest of obstacles, and brace through some of the worst hardships.  I knew both his staunch acceptance and his clumsy desperate embrace.  I didn’t learn those things as much from my mother. I learned them from 4 decades with him.

He’s woven into my existence, my thoughts.  And I always know he tried his best.  It couldn’t have been easy.  And he never questioned or guilted me about my boundaries, even while we all struggled through this paradigm shift of social etiquettes.  He accepted it like he accepted everything, quietly, bravely, and mostly alone - with the occasional broken phone to clean up.  He forgave me my lessons, and I forgive him his.  I eventually learned how to hold my own in his presence, but was more than flattered this last year when we’d talk and he’d go from rage to calm in one simple (successful) phone call and then thank me for just being there.  And I hope that it matters I was there for that last moment; the one we will all face one day.  The one we worry about our entire lives.  

He struggled in life, but not in death.  We all did.  We all do.  But through him, I know how.  And that’s all we ever really have to offer each other.

Thanks Dad.  I love you, and I know it’s okay.  

Ali

Frozen and Frozen II: Flirting with Heaven

The hoopla that Frozen caused back in 2013 with it’s 3 second reveal of a gay family was illustrative of the static we’re still experiencing in today’s world.  But the evolution of this story line is a worthy pursuit in it’s own right. 

Between the aftermath of Frozen and new Frozen II the world has been complicit in the transformation.  And even the real life homophobia that squashed the real storyline (Spoiler Alert: that Elsa is simply gay) couldn’t stop the deeper, more powerful realignment this world so desperately needs.  Allow me to explain.

The statement (Elsa is gay) is both glaringly obvious and astoundingly infuriating, depending on your point of view.  Entering a story from the point of view of the white male as he gazes upon the ice cutters in the beginning of Frozen is a fitting initiation, as we all tend to see things from that vantage point in no small part due to a long skewed media depiction steeped in patriarchy, homophobia, and fear.  The movie carefully crafts the characters of the very real, and adorable Anna as well as her stunningly stereotypically beautiful sister with her long blond hair and graceful figure.  We’re committed the moment Disney tugs our heartstrings using the age old show in of orphaning these sisters.  That was it.  This generation, the United States, indeed much of the world was by that point hooked.

I don’t think the next part will be a stretch for most people I know.  Elsa’s conflict, namely that of figuring out how to conceal it, and not feel “it” leads her into a situation known all too well to me, and my kind.  The ice queen must hide her true nature, her powers, from the community she was born to, not because she’s malevolent, but because other people’s understanding and fear make them see her as a threat, and indeed, in turmoil, in fear she accidentally becomes a threat.  The rest of that story is about how Elsa leaves to regroup, finds a kind of power and contentment in solitude, but is brought back through family obligation and love.  The twists and turns here I found brilliant and I believe I was not alone in this.  The love interest, that was rushed into becomes the real villain, and the true love is built upon through Olaf (the young, loyal and innocent snowman willing to melt for Anna), the fierce, musky friend Sven who gallantly rides his reindeer into the storm to save Anna but isn’t able to, and even in the beautiful final twist where Anna must preform a real act of true love for her sister, Elsa. (Why did we all accept it had to be a kiss?)

The parallels to the internal conflicts of the queer community were obvious and beautifully culminated in the moment that Elsa too learns the way to resolve all the problems, love.  It’s so simple, but so poetic as she has been outed, feared, persecuted, and supported so that now she, (and indeed we all) can see love really is the answer.  

And that’s where we left off in 2013.  Christians immediately started boycotting the movie.  The gay community began chanting the simple but obvious motivation for coming out we were finally woke enough to recognize as a virtue: love is love.  Love wins.  And the musical scores were criticized for their complexity and it was said that children would never fall in love with the non-repetitive refrains.

Alas, they did.

It wasn’t long before Let it go was belted by every little girl and older woman regardless of the difficult pitch.  Boys loved it too and Frozen quickly became to most popular multiple Oscar winning Disney movie of all time.

And that’s when the whispers started.  

Rumor had it that Disney would soon reveal two of  its major characters as gay.  Rumor had it that a new Captain America and Elsa would be the newest animated members of our Queer Community.  

And then the very real backlash settled in.  White supremacist power began to surge among the fundamentalist Christian communities.  The Me Too Movement lead to a collective pitying of the toxic male.  Trump somehow managed to become president.

It became clear, no one could just come out right now.

But this generation began to see with crystal clarity things had to change if we were to go on.  The environment is threatening the longevity of the very generation coming to power.  Children like Greta Thurnburg became overnight heroes the way we used to promote Justin Biebers.  Trumpets are not the majority but enough of them could steer us into a swirl of hate humanity itself might not escape and each side feels dig into their positions which are crafted and manipulated.  We exist now within a very robust bubble difficult to just pop.

But there is another current leading many.

Truth found it’s way back to the goalpost.  Political discord no longer divides communities, but families, couples even.  Finding a way to communicate honestly, and accept your adversary for their perspective has become a matter of all  life or all death.  Anger, exaggeration, isolation - these are no longer sustainable at all.

Next comes Frozen II.  

Here we enter the “happy ending” for all our favorite little characters.  Leaning a little more toward Anna and her oblivion, we get that Elsa is back in the castle, and Sven is gearing up to propose.  The only character conflicted at all is Olaf who appears to be facing the very existential crisis we are all about to endure, for which he questions and blamed himself about for entirely (a good first step!)

We glimpse a kind of typical evening as these characters are all grappling with their one lives while keeping each other company.  That’s when Elsa is woken from her sleep by a woman’s voice she describes as a “Siren.”

This is where it all gets a bit muddy.  See the characters are all growing up.  The audience has grown too.  Sven and Anna are about to marry.  Is Elsa destined to be the tragic spinster third wheel creating quirky ice sculptures for children at parties?

There are these powerful moments in succession from this point on: Elsa’s belting of “Into the Unknown,” the moment she quells the tornado, and damage done by a fire salamander, even her taming of the ocean horse; they all lead her to Agamemnon, the river of ice, the glacier, but ultimately, just another island only she feels comfortable in.  

I could not have experienced this any other way than the way I did.  The relatable story, the history, the triangled passageways and slippery tunnels.  The anticipation, the falling, all came together in the ultimate disappointment.  

Now, I lost my mother as a child the same way Walt Disney did.  The Disney orphan has tugged on my heartstrings more than once.  But the “discovery” of her mother’s voice after all this searching... it was like watching the electoral college name the minority winner, Trump, President of the United States.  It was sad, confusing, unsatisfying to say the least.

But they had no choice.  There was no other way to bring us all together.  They had to disappoint both sides in order to find a place where we can all meet.  He who is without sin caste the first stone.  And that’s when Anna, facing the bottom, facing death, depression, isolation, that’s when Anna faces hell.

Even as Elsa happily danced through her ice cave facing images of her past and time traveling back to sin of her grandfather; even as she came to understand the universe as something she could read and communicate with; she could not change that moment.  All she could do before she froze was send a message back to Anna.  Elsa, indeed none of us, can endure alone.

And Anna, facing a world without anyone now, orphaned, abandoned, betrayed, and left, Anna emerged from her hell one foot in front of the other as she took Elsa’s message and just did the next right thing.

Because here right matters, right?  Right is a tightrope we walk carefully tripping and holding each other each step of the way.  At this point Anna is poised to right the universe and use the signs, the advice, with the help of her friends and enemies all at once to surrender everything she knew, to right a wrong.  Her action pleases the universe, thaws her sister who rides back to save Arondelle, and together the sisters bridge the gap.  Together they’re love is a kind of fifth element.  Love sustains.

There is a girl in the north that Elsa winds up leaving Arondelle to be where she “belongs,” but this relationship is tamed and quelled by a lack of attention, and the downplayed connection that you do to mourn the loss of if you understand all this, but can just overlook if you’re not ready to see it.  In the end, the important thing is that Elsa appears happy as she gallops across a reflective iced ocean that reflects us all at once.  

Expectation

Expectation really rots the root.  

My dad just died this week and I’m inundated with people writing, texting, calling and coming to console the best they can.  It’s funny because I keep hearing stories from people about how they either had to make agonizing decisions for their loved ones in this very complex modern age, or they lost a parent.  I already lost a parent though, so the medical stuff knocked me for a loop.  But the parent thing - is different. It’s even different with different parents. And different - whether it’s death, or the unknown, newness or thought - lends perspective.

My dad and I had a complicated relationship.  My uncle nailed it once when he told me what the exact problem was.  One word: expectation.  

And. He. Was. So. Right.  

Nothing takes you farther away from life than expectation.  

When you’re in a relationship, you start expecting something (Maybe it’s an action or a thing of some sort? Maybe it’s a role or a comparison?) Maybe we can’t help it.  Maybe it’s natural.  Thing is, without intervention, you may rarely receive this thing at all let alone receive it exactly as you’d dreamed it up.  Think about all the possibilities out there that might happen. What are the fundamental chances your exact expectation will just come to be?  

You may have choices.  They may not be choices you prefer.  Sometimes, we don’t even see our choices because we develop habits and routines and personalities around how we handle these situations.  We decide to get pissed, or communicate needs, or judge, or walk away, nod, hug or handshake. Ignore.

Even in a moment or a conversation, if you’re expecting anything at all; you missed it!  You’re already thinking about what you’re expecting, so you’re not really there.  There’s a time for everything and thought is great but thinking is not being.  Expectation usurps experience, and what is life but a conglomeration of experiences?  Life is empirical.  God, angels, answers, progression - come through the moment you all too often miss because you were so focused on what you thought would, or should, or could happen.  You are not God.  Not fully.  No god thinks.  God knows. For what it’s worth, the one expectation that I’ve come to embrace, is that.