Every once in a while we all need a wakeup call …

I know we all get busy, wrapped up in our own issues and daily lives and before long we are so entrenched in what we have going on that we forget about some of the more important things in life. We worry about having a nice house or car, maybe a new wardrobe or at least a pair of shoes, and keeping up with the latest in technology. We spend all our time making money so we can spend it, or so our spouses can spend it for us, and hoping to one day have enough saved up to retire and begin to enjoy life for a change. But what if we never get to retire? What if by the time we make it to retirement age and status all we have left is that nice house, car, and wardrobe with no one left to enjoy life with?

That’s the type of wakeup call all of us needs right here, right now. I got mine in a few stages, spread out over about a two year span. The beginning of it was back in the fall of 1997 when a face I hadn’t seen in over a decade popped up in a web search for something I thought was completely unrelated. It set off a chain of events that made me stop and think about a lot of unresolved issues from my past, things I thought were buried so deep they would never surface again, and people I had walked away from a long time ago. It also began a process of finally dealing with things I had refused to previously, aligning my memory of my history with what really happened, and writing a book I never thought I was capable of.

That process, facing my fear, reconnecting with an old friend, resolving some issues in my past, and writing that book helped me to take a closer look at what was really important in my life. I had forgotten about Jack and our friendship years before and he wasn’t the only one from my past I had walked away from, he was just the one that was most important for me to reconnect with. Rebuilding that bridge allowed me to reconnect with others, to reach out to some, and to accept others who had reached out to me. It gave me a chance to begin to put my priorities in the right order beginning with family and friends rather than the very tight circle I had been spinning in for far too long.

I also came out of this more comfortable with myself, my past, and my future than I ever thought I could be. I managed to find a place I am comfortable with in the universe, and discover ways to let go of all those things I know are out of my control in much the same way that those who are Christian claim to “turn it all over to God”. I’m not certain how much of that came from reconciling those issues, from the process of writing the book, or from simply spending time with Jack again, but it was something I would need about a year later.

The final stage of my wake up call came in the fall of 2009 when we learned that my mother-in-law has breast cancer. She is a relatively young 56 year old woman who takes care of herself and follows the recommendations of semi-annual mammograms. Sadly, you get what you pay for and in her case, a free screening meant nobody cared enough to read the films. She had been complaining of symptoms after the screening in February and eventually could no longer ignore them. In September she sought a second opinion and learned that she has stage IV invasive ductal carcinoma (breast cancer spread to the lymphatic system with lesions on the skeleton). While the entire family is angry that she was not diagnosed sooner, she simply moved forward with treatment and an attitude that she will beat it. It’s impossible for us to know how far the cancer advanced between February and September, and that is for the lawyers to argue in court one day, but we do know the diagnosis wouldn’t have changed though we could have possibly caught it while still a stage III.

As I wrapped my head around the news that someone close to me had been given a potentially terminal diagnosis, I retreated into my own world asking one question over and over. What if it were me? Hearing someone you know given a diagnosis of cancer in any form tends to do that to most of us. Luckily, I had already begun to prioritize things in my life and remove some of the non-essential things, be those material items, excess drama, or surrounding myself with negative attitudes. The cancer diagnosis was simply the catalyst to complete that phase of my life.

I shelved a writing project I was working on, hopefully I will come back to it one day but for now it sits about 1/3 of the way completed, I made a decision to eliminate the negativity and drama from my life, and I did just that. I severed all ties with the Dykes on Bikes (DOBD) Drama Queen group I had been riding with because I was tired of the high school drama that came with it and the way the group as a whole made both myself and my wife feel. I chose to walk away from their narrow view of the world and allow them to wallow in their own self pity for being single, poor, uneducated, unemployed, and lesbian. Each member of that group feels sorry for themselves for at least one of those reasons and I think it’s safe to say their attitude is that the “straight world” owes them something. I completely disagree and think they all need to grow up, shut up, and take responsibility for their own lives and the poor decisions that have landed them where they are now. But I digress!

My purging of negativity and drama extended to family encounters as well, from both my family and Jen’s. I respectfully decline invitations to go places where certain members of Jen’s family will be in attendance, as does Jen, because it simply isn’t worth dealing with their crap. Jen and I still attend family functions on both sides when possible, but I do not feel bad for missing out on things because we choose not to deal with a situation that will most definitely turn ugly. Family is not perfect, it never was nor can it ever be for either of us, but family is family. Often it’s better for all of us to not speak for a while rather than speak words that will irritate or offend the other. That’s my new approach to family on both sides and it will continue in force with the new arrival in a few weeks. The news of a 4th niece (nephew is still possible last I heard) was the last straw, the third was hard enough to stomach, and while I am certain I will love them no less than their three older sisters, they will see me just as little as the first three have. I refuse to bite my tongue any more than is absolutely required and the mandatory family gatherings are about all I can take these days.

My priorities are now in order, I go out of my way to help those I can when ever I can, and I approach every situation with a little more laid back approach. I know that every event in my life, great or small, has a purpose and I accept the challenge of figuring out what that purpose may be daily. I also except the challenge of ensuring that if my next tomorrow never comes, I have lived each moment in a way that I am content with, said all I need to say to those around me and that I care about, and never left a situation unresolved whenever possible. While I never claim to be perfect, if I can at least do my best to make sure that I leave this world with all those I care for and about knowing how important to me they are, and never parting ways angry, I can accept that as my legacy.

To quote a friend of mine "Live for the here and now, tomorrow will take care of itself!"

So about that blog post I promised to write …

Dear loyal readers,

I have not forgotten about you, or your interest in this blog, my life, and my writing. However, I have been far too busy for far too long to keep up with this thing. I have been writing all this time, but most of it has either been for my eyes only, not even shared with my wife if you can believe that, or has been in the form of a FaceBook (FB) status update or comment. Many of you are on FB and my FB friends list so you have not been kept too far out of the loop, though certainly not exactly included in all the goings on of my life since last fall. Let this post serve as the catch up for all those important things I have not yet shared, and I promise to update this thing a little more regularly going forward. Notice I said a little more regularly.

First off for those of you who do not yet know, my mother-in-law was diagnosed with stage IV ductal breast cancer last fall, round about the time I stopped posting my writing. See the coincidence here? Thee were other factors in my silence, like the completely unhealthy group I was in the process of terminating my membership with, a few work related issues, and the occasional life event I still choose to remain silent on. In any case, she is doing well, responding well to treatments, and having very few side effects of her treatments outside of the standard loss of hair. And for those who have not been through this, or watched someone go through this, let me just state that when I say loss of hair, it includes hair in places where you didn’t know hair grew.

Dealing with the diagnosis, the tests, the staging process, and the new schedule that would be applied to my life as my wife stepped up to be by her mother’s side as much as possible through this whole process has taken some major and minor adjustments. One of the first things to get pushed aside was my writing. It was in part because I didn’t feel much like finishing a story about a boy who leaves home right after high school with the intent to never see his father again, spends 20 years building a life for himself with no contact between the two of them, and then stumbles upon a relationship with him again through a twist of fate only to learn that his father is terminally ill. This story was conceived and the first 20 chapters or so written long before last fall’s news hit and it is in no way related to my mother-in-law’s diagnosis. Yet writing it just didn’t sit well with me any longer and I lost interest in writing all together as the weeks dragged on.

I did not stop writing all together though, but digging through the archives of the blog you’ll certainly notice a HUGE gap in entries beginning toward the end of last summer and lasting for what has become nearly a year. I can’t say that many things were written in that time period, but I can say that what was written was almost always merely me venting frustrations about one thing or another and eventually found its way into the recycle bin. On occasion I came up with a piece of something I hung onto, something that I managed to make general enough to post. But, as the archives make blatantly obvious, those were very few and quite far in between.

So, what else have I been up to over the last 9 months … sadly the answer is not really all that much. I have completed more classes and currently have just four left to obtain my latest degree, a Bachelor of Web Development. So long as they don’t cancel any classes on me I will be done with it next March! Then what I’m not certain, but there has been some consideration about going for a Masters Degree … time will have to tell that tale because for now I am focusing on SUMMER VACATION and those four remaining classes next year.

Life has really been all about family, friends, school, and work … in that order for probably the first time in decades. Having a potentially terminal diagnosis of someone you know, no matter how well you know them, is certainly a wake up call to get your life and priorities in line. It has been the catalyst for me purging all the drama and “fluff” from my life, hence exiting the DOB fiasco and no longer surrounding myself with their drama, negativity, and poor choices. I can’t even say the departure was amicable, I’m not certain they are capable of that from a local or national standpoint, but it was not a total waste of time. That group, the drama all last summer, and the eventually process of exiting their gang (and I mean that in every sense of the word) was something I needed to do. It served as a reminder of why I have not been active in the LGBT only culture since my early college days at Oakland, and why I will refrain from getting involved again in the future. It was a definite wake up call that there are two distinct versions of LGBT Equality and the activism that is required to achieve it, I am not interested in their tunnel vision of the world or what true equality is! I am also thankful that organizations like Triangle foundation, Michigan Equality, and Affermations exist and understand both how the world works and what needs to be done to achieve true equality for all, including LGBT people.

So there is the recap of my last 9 months. Reality check, Cancer, Exiting the Drama Queens (DOBD), eliminating as much drama from my life as possible, family, friends, work, school, and writing. Now that the purging of drama process is complete, or nearly, and school is out for the next 4 months, I’ll try to write more!

To those who shall remain nameless …

For the average reader of this blog, this post is something you can skip over and simply return another day to read my latest take on life as a whole. However, there are a special few who I feel the overwhelming urge to address here today. Those little rats scouring the web and this blog for any crumbs I may have left along the way. They know who they are, so if this post seems odd, thank you for stopping by again today but this doesn’t apply to you.

As for the rest ...

Thank you for your continued interest in my life and this blog! It’s nice to know that you value my words so greatly that you feel the need to visit this blog so frequently. While the average reader of this blog visits once a day, or every few days, and only two or three pages per visit, your counts far exceed these figures. In many cases you return 4 and 5 times a day with total daily page views in excess of 10-15 pages! I never realized what power my writing held over you. I do apologize for the lapse in posts on here for your enjoyment but, unlike some of you I am employed, furthering my education, and have a family. These things all take precedence over my writing and, alas many of the posts for this blog have simply gone unfinished and remain unavailable to the general public’s eyes.

Given the particular posts you continue to hit, and their respective category tags, I am quite certain I know what it is you are looking for, and am highly amused that after months with nothing posted on this subject you continue to come here searching for more content. I liken this to the boy who continues to beat his head against the cement wall in hopes of making his headache go away, or the rat who continues to seek out the cheese on the trap though he has already lost his tail and two feet to other traps along the way. After all, if you continue to do things the same way, you will always wind up with the same results!

Since you are here however, I will toss you a piece of that brick of cheese you have been scouring my blog for. Yes, I have received your letter. It is nice to know that the student who couldn’t cut it in law school has found something to do with her time. This one was far more professional than the first and clearly did not come from the uneducated end of the group. Congratulations, you may have learned something from this after all. Let those who have the ability do something while those who haven’t a clue sit back and watch.

Logic would suggest that you will take your crumbs and scurry away into the crevices of the Internet again but rodents always seem to return to a past source of food hoping to find more. It’s in their nature and related to the small brain capacity so, until next time …

Frustrations Abound

Months go by with no communication to anyone outside of their little clique of inner circle friends. An entire season has passed with very little being accomplished on any front, and a pile of promises made in the beginning now lie broken at my feet. Should I trust them again? Should I take their word that this is just "growing pains" and they are doing their best to accommodate everyone involved? Will new blood improve the situation at all or simply prove one final time it was never meant to be? Time and again I offer my help, to bridge the gap in their knowledge with the outside world. And, time and again I am ignored, told it's under control, and watch as noting is ever done.

They claim the goal is to have a cohesive group of individuals who share a common interest, yet they refuse to communicate with their membership. They claim to be all inclusive, having differing types of memberships to accommodate every walk of life, yet work very hard at keeping their group small with their actions. Will they ever learn that actions speak volumes more than words ever could? Will they understand that to be a group it means you must make time to fulfill your obligations and keep all your ranks in the loop? Is it possible to even be a group when it is so clear you can not see past your own inner circle of friends? What about those who want so badly to participate but can not drop everything to join in at the last minute? When will they understand that it is not THEIR group, or HER group, it is OUR group?

How did you celebrate YOUR Freedom this year?

Friday 7/3/09
With the sun fully up and the sky finally blue after almost a solid week of overcast and rain, Jen and I loaded up the bike, double checked the straps on the luggage, and headed out on the bike for a much needed mini-vacation about 11:00 AM. Our first destination was lunch, but with only 58 miles on the trip odometer since the last time I filled the tank, we hit the expressway and headed toward Port Huron figuring we would get lunch and gas all in one stop. With the wind at our back and traffic a little light once we made it out of Flint on I-69, we managed to hit Imlay City around 1PM and filled our tummy’s with warm Big boy food while we watched the sky turn overcast through the windows. The sun was peaking through the cloud deck every so often, and it was clear that there was blue sky up there beyond those gray clouds, but it was also clear that we were riding into the remainder of the overcast cloud deck as we headed east.

After a quick lunch stop at Big Boys, a fuel stop across the road, and some time to put on the long sleeve t-shirts before climbing back onto the bike, we were ready for the next adventure. We made it to Port Huron and through the confusing interchanges of I-69, I-94, and M-25 before slamming into a line of cars stopped for what would be a long stretch of red lights. It was the Friday before a major holiday and M-25 is a major route from the metro Detroit area to the Thumb, we were in Holiday traffic at 1:30 PM.

We finally managed to make it out of Port Huron, north of Lakeport, where we toured a State Park neither Jen or I knew existed, and won’t be returning to, and realized that we had finally left the traffic behind us on our journey farther north. We stopped at a couple of roadside Parks along M-25 between Port Sanilac and White Rock and cruised along the country scenes while M-25 flirted with the shoreline of Lake Huron and the sun played peek-a-boo through the thick cloud deck above. Eventually we made it to Harbor Beach and turned inland on M-142 headed for a quick gas stop and our final destination for the night.

We arrived at the hotel in Bad Axe, checked in, and were unpacking the duffel in our room by 5:30PM, right on schedule. We checked out the accommodations, stretched our legs and backs for a bit, made a quick Walmart run for some items that had been left behind, and stopped into the Gathering Place, attached to the hotel, for some dinner. I managed to convince Jen to join me in a quick game of pool in the game room after our meal, which I barely won, and we each tried our hand at an old school Elvira pinball game, neither of us was very good at that either. The pool was crawling with loud children so Jen and I opted to forgo the evening dip and simply retire to our spacious room, it was by far the largest hotel room I have ever stayed in and could easily have accommodated an additional king size bed along with all the furnishings that were in there already.

Saturday 7/4/09
Jen dragged my butt out of a surprisingly comfortable bed around 8:30 AM, she had been up for at least a half hour before I even opened my eyes, and we managed to hit the road by 9:30. This time we were headed home, via the long route, and from Bad Axe drove north on M-53 to Port Austin, which looked like a neat little country town we would like to go back to, but we didn’t dare stop for all the people crawling every which way. Port Austin was the center of the Thumb’s 4th of July activities, including the parade that was to happen at 1pm, but at just before 10AM there were so many people every where you looked that Jen and I decided not to stop and instead headed west out of town along M-25 toward Port Crescent State Park. We made a short stop at a roadside park just outside of Port Austin and wandered down the sandy path for a photo opportunity of the shoreline and offered our assistance to another biker family who wanted their picture taken along the lake. While Jen and I were getting ready to climb back on the bike, the two bikers who asked us to take their picture wandered back up to their bike and eventually got up the nerve to ask if they could take my picture. He wasn't looking for a goofy pose next to my ride but rather, a shot of the back of my jacket, where my Dykes on Bikes Detroit patch is sewn. They LOVED the patch and he wanted to take the photo back to show off to the rest of his biker friends.

I stood still, smiling the whole time, for the photo and eventually Jen and I did manage to climb back on the bike and ride off toward Port Crescent State Park. After a short cruise through the campground, which both Jen and I agree we would NEVER stay in due to site size and absolute lack of privacy, we headed over to the day use area for a little time off the bike and in the sun and sand. Yes, sand. We didn’t hike all the way down to the beach, but we didn’t have to because the wind has blown layers of sand over the boardwalks. So much so that it looked like Mother Nature had installed the worn handrails and fence posts in the dune paths herself. It was a beautiful day to build a sand castle along the beach and stand knee deep in Lake Huron as the waves splashed up to your waist, but Jen and I opted to view it from a platform above the beach and snap a few shore photos instead.

After a potty break and a slow cruise through the rest of the day use area, we headed back to the main road and westward on M-25. Not long after leaving Port Crescent State Park, we came to a screeching halt on the highway and waited patiently for the white tail deer to decide which direction she wanted to cross the road in. The car in front of us spooked her mid crossing and she was clearly confused about the safest direction to go. Once the path cleared I rolled forward slowly, keeping a careful eye for any movement on the roadside while we slowly passed the area the deer had just entered, and where I suspect she came from as well. I was not about to tangle my motorcycle with a 150+lb deer, that would not have ended well for either Jen or me.

Not too far up the road, we pulled into the Sleeper State Park campground and, though the ranger told us she couldn’t allow us to drive through the campground, I made a somewhat intentional wrong turn and managed to cover one of the loops to the campground. We were once again checking out layout and campsite size, for future reference. As much as I was tempted to, I didn’t dare cross the path of the ranger again and venture to the other side of the campground. Instead, Jen and I headed across the road for a stretch/snack break in the day use area along the shores of Lake Huron.

We parked, grabbed the packable cooler, and headed up the boardwalk to a nice platform that overlooked both the beech and the forested hillside and dunes. It was a beautiful spot for a picnic lunch, or snack in our case. My watch said it was just about noon when we stopped but since we had to forgo the planned breakfast stop in Port Austin due to the crowds, my tummy thought it was much later than that. We snacked, stretched, and watched the flocks of Cedar Waxwings and robins fight off the large family of chipmunks from the berry bushes along the hill side. We even snapped a few pictures of a chipmunk munching down on a cracker that I dropped on the ground and decided to toss his way. It was too cute to pass up.

With our energy partially restored and knees in full working order, Jen and I climbed back onto the bike and headed out to M-25 once again. This time we were in search of a lunch spot hopefully not too far down the road. That’s where the trip got a little scary and I was reminded just how quickly things can get dangerous while riding a motorcycle. Traffic was clearing on M-25 and I was preparing for a right hand, up-hill turn out onto the roadway when my finger slipped from the clutch lever and I popped the clutch, with the forks already turned to the right, Jen on the back seat, and the 50+ lb duffel on the rear luggage rack.

I immediately put my right foot down, stood up off the seat, and did my best to straighten the forks while applying the front brake to keep the bike from rolling in any direction. I’ve done this before, even with Jen on the back, and we saved the bike. This time, the combination of the pavement angle, the weight of the duffel, and me never explaining to Jen that she should try to counter balance the bike by sliding her weight to the high side of the bike, were too much. We didn’t manage to save it. It was like a bad dream, helplessly watching in slow motion as the bike laid itself muffler side down. It was propped up in the rear by the packed saddle bags, which saved the mufflers from damage, and the passenger peg which folded itself up nicely under the weight of the bike. As I lay on the ground under the bike, it took at least a full second for my brain to remember what I should do. I slid out from under the bike, thankfully not pinned under it’s weight, and killed the engine before looking back to check on Jen. She was okay, not visibly uninjured and sliding herself away from the bike. We survived our first crash!

I jumped to my feet, asked her once again if she was okay and quickly realized that two cars had stopped on the road to be sure that we were alright. From seemingly out of nowhere two gentlemen arrived at my side to heft the bike from its pathetic side down position and help me place it in its much more majestic side stand down with forks turned and parked position. I could have done it myself, by using the laws of physics and a little technique they taught me in my motorcycle safety class, but I was thankful for their help none the less. While Jen and I collected ourselves and I adjusted the mirror that had been badly knocked out of position in the fall, I checked for obvious damage. We were on the side of the driveway and out of harms way, I took my time getting back on that bike. My nerves were shaken; I didn’t know what I had done wrong, why I had popped the clutch in the first place. I was concerned that I would do it again and the next time Jen and I wouldn’t be so lucky. I was well over 100 miles from home, the bike was barely scratched, both Jen and I walked away, though not entirely uninjured we would later discover, and I had no choice but to confront the fear and climb back on the bike.

Jen, trusting in me more than she probably should have at the time, took a deep breath and climbed back onto her seat. I waited for her thumbs up to let me know she was settled, started the bike, and slowly pulled out on to the road. I was driving far more careful than I had in months, listening to every sound the bike made, watching for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. It was then that I realized what had caused me to pop the clutch starting the catastrophic chain of events pulling out from the state park. My clutch lever was sloppy! Had I ever checked that before? The bike was still almost brand new, but with close to 8,000 miles on it the clutch cable had stretched and a simple adjustment would have prevented that fall.

Not far up the road, I’m not certain it was even 5 miles to be honest, I pulled into a lakeside resort that offered lodging and a restaurant that looked open for business on the national holiday. As Jen and I climbed off the bike I again walked around looking for damage. What I found was a little bit of fluid that had spilled out of the engine and onto the chrome of the air cleaner cover, I presumes oil but suppose it could have been gas as well. I explained to Jen that it was normal and did not mean that the bike was damaged. Motorcycle engines are designed to remain in the upright position and when laid on their side, it’s common for them to leak a bit of fluid. There was no puddle, there was barely any fluid at all to be perfectly honest, but it was just enough to washed off some of the filth from the chrome and make it almost shiny again. That's the only reason I even noticed it.

I also discovered that I had scraped up the end of the brake lever, the bottom of my driver peg, and the tip of the passenger peg when the bike went down, but that was it. No dents, no dings, no serious damage at all. In fact, all the damage I did do could easily be explained as simple flying debris on the highway, they really are that superficial! Lady luck was certainly watching out for us on that trip as it could have been so much worse. Even the injuries Jen and I sustained, a twisted ankle for Jen, a bruised knee and pulled right arm for me, could have been so much worse. My bike has a dry weight of just less than 700lbs. It was not dry, and it had an additional weight load of close to 100lbs with the duffle and saddle bags. Add in hot engine and exhaust parts, there could have been so many more common injuries, but we were lucky.

We collected our nerves over lunch while we watched the children playing in the pool and the waves roll in on the distant shore of Saginaw Bay, then paid the bill and headed out to the bike for the final stretch toward home. We were in Caseville, still a good hundred miles from home, but it was time to make tracks, trade the scenic shoreline vistas for farmland and open prairies, and once we hit Sebewaing, to eventually head south toward home once again. With an emergency stop to watch a mother mallard duck parade her ducklings across the road, then turn back to the shoulder where they came from and hide in the weeds, and gas stop just north of Frankenmuth where we stretched, refueled with a bit to eat, and quenched our thirst with some cold drinks, Our trip was rapidly coming to a close. We decided to head home the quickest route that did not involve the expressway. Just north of Flint, I changed my mind, made a quick right turn, and hopped on I-475 to complete our journey home. After two solid days on the bike and close to 350 miles logged, I was ready to be home and park the bike for a day or two while my tail bone and my now aching right arm healed.

All in all, we logged roughly 350 miles and a total of 10 hours on the bike over a two day period. We enjoyed the scenery, the wildlife, and the hospitality of rural Michigan. It was a welcomed break from daily life and an excellent way to celebrate our freedom on Independence Day weekend. We’ve even talked about a modified version of the trip this fall when the color begins to pop. It should be a beautiful ride along the shore of Lake Huron and Saginaw Bay with the trees in full fall colors.

Office politics ... way too much like High School

I guess I was probably a little over due for a reality check on discrimination and discomfort with the whole subject of homosexuality for far too many people out there. It has been a long time since it has slapped me in the face as a reminder that not everyone out there is comfortable with my sexuality and some are down right offended by it. To be honest, I’m a little uncomfortable with the idea of women sleeping with men, but I don’t’ go around telling all the breeders of the world to stop loving who they love and prohibit their rights to equality and free speech.

This all began last Friday when I innocently wore my Dykes on bikes club T-Shirt to work since it was a jeans day. I got a few smirks and second glances as I walked in and up to my desk, but nothing out of the ordinary or all that unexpected. I also managed to get a few compliments on the design and one person asked where they could get one like it. It was a quiet day around the office and I went on with the business of my day, left my desk a grand total of three times, and had extremely limited contact with the rest of my co-workers. Yet, at about 11:30 my direct supervisor came and asked me to come with him. As we passed by his office where I assumed we were headed, he told me we needed to go talk to the Director of our department … never a good thing. I was told that I was in violation of the company dress code because my T-shirt fell into the vague category of “overly controversial” and that I would need to take the remainder of the afternoon off (with pay) because I did not have another shirt to change into. Let the drama begin.

I asked few questions, knowing that the office politics were not worth getting upset over right then and there, returned to my office to close out of all my files, grabbed my bag, and headed to the human Rescources office. It was then that I learned that HR had no idea I was being sent home, seemed a little strange to me, and that the person who was in HR that day could not explain to me why the shirt was so controversial. She requested that I bring it back Monday so that her boss could look into the matter for me. On that note, I left the building at about noon on a beautiful sunny June afternoon and enjoyed my suddenly extended weekend. I had some things I needed to get done before Monday morning, which is what I was working on when I was called away from my desk. I made the decision that if I was not allowed to work my regular schedule to complete those tasks they could wait until next week and the project would simply be delayed a week, no skin off my nose. I didn’t do a single work related thing from Friday at noon until I arrived today at 8:30 to start the new week. Thank you for the time off!
I had time to cool off over the weekend, to let the irritation slide a little bit and approach the issue with a little more political tact that I could have mustered Friday. I scheduled a meeting with the HR manager as directed and took in the shirt so he could look at it. The first words out of his mouth “Wow that’s a pretty shirt. I wouldn’t mind wearing one of these.” Then he attempted to answer my questions and assure me that he will look into the matter for me. He also apologized on behalf of the company that I felt “singled out”. Until that moment, I didn’t realize that everyone else sees this as a clear case of discrimination. I was simply asking why the shirt was controversial, not why I couldn’t wear it. If it doesn’t fit the dress code for jeans Fridays, I won’t wear it. But I need to know why it doesn’t fit so that I don’t wear another shirt that may land me in the same situation. So far, nobody can tell me the answer to that question.

In that short conversation with HR, I don’t feel much better about any of this. If anything, I’m more confused. What I learned is that if one single person is uncomfortable with or offended by a shirt you wear to work you can be sent home, presuming that the dress code is enforced universally. I guess this means that for every Christian, political, sports team affiliated, etc shirt I see that I disagree with I should take my concern to HR rather than being an adult, considering the source, and walking away. I was also reminded that there are people in this office, a place I have been comfortable enough to be out from the moment I walked in on my first day, that are so uncomfortable with my sexual orientation that merely being reminded of it is offensive to them. Seeing gay pride colors or slogans on my shirt, or the trade marked name of a lesbian motorcycle organization makes them so uncomfortable that they can’t get their work done if it is in the building. Yet those same people see nothing wrong with spouting Bible verses, wearing Christian themed shirts, and discussing Christian topics in the middle of the office corridors where not every employees of this company is a Christian. Ahh the double standard.

My saga continues over the T-shirt controversy as the HR manager asks questions of those involved in the decision to send me home, and to our parent companies HR department to find out their view of the situation and how things should have been handled. In the mean time, I’m uncomfortable being in the building today, and experiencing a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time, hatred toward me for something I can not, nor do I wish to change. I know it is their ignorance that will one day be their downfall. I know that I must be the bigger person and allow them their prejudice, but I don’t like this familiar feeling of being alone in the crowded office and not even able to look my department head in the face let alone the eye. He has forever lost my respect simply for the way in which he handled the situation. I guess it’s fitting that he is obviously uncomfortable around me today as well. He has not said a single word to me in the handful of time I have crossed his path and more than once he has seen me walking toward him in the hall and turned away rather than acknowledge my presence. Feels like high school all over again in so many ways!

Born into a world that will never understand you
Forced to live a life that will never make you whole
Spend your whole life wondering why it doesn’t feel right
Or listen to your heart and set yourself free
Stand up
Stand out
Stand tall
Never let their hate filled words break your resolve
You’re not a freak, a mistake of nature
You deserve to belong and to be loved
You are human too!

Motor City PRIDE 09 - it was a good day!

It began like any other Sunday in June, except that I was awake, out of bed, and moving before 9:00 AM. Mom and Dad stayed the night after finishing the tile job very late on Saturday and, though I was awake when they left, I never actually saw them Sunday morning. Jen and I dressed and headed to Fenton to return the loaner car to the Ford dealer and pick up the Escape for what had better be the FINAL time for the transmission repair. A quick stop for breakfast and we were headed home under partly cloudy skies debating the weather for the remainder of the day. By 10:30 we had decided to risk the 10% chance of rain and climbed on the bike headed south for Motor City PRIDE in Ferndale, MI.

The winds were calm and the ride down was nice, even with a still healing tail bone, but when we hit Auburn hills I decided I needed a break from the express way pace. We exited smoothly on Square Lake Rd and took Woodward south to 9 Mile where the festivities had already gotten under way. Our instructions were to arrive at any of the barricades along 9 Mile and ask security how to get to the DOBD crew … but Security had no idea! Thankfully we had a cell phone and managed to contact H-Bom who gave us detailed directions to get around to the back of the blocked off area and in to our space for the day. The row of chrome was impressive!

Jen and I spent the day hanging with the girls, getting to know some of the members who have not been able to make it to meetings, and cruising through the crowds to check out all of the booths and festivities. It was our first PRIDE in at least 8 years and I was impressed at how much it has grown and how well they pulled it off considering the lack of communication and late planning for some of it. Jen and I even managed to make it into the new Affermations building, though Sean was not to be seen so I couldn’t give him a hard time about his days as president of GALA at Oakland University in the mid 1990’s

The PRIDE festivities wrapped up around 6:30 and many of us headed over to a member’s house for a little food and some quieter time to hang out. The streets of Ferndale were packed with people most of the day and the Thumpa-Thumpa of the dance pavilion could be heard way down at the end of the line where we were set up. It was nice to sit quietly in the back yard, well as quietly as 9 vocal women can sit while eating, razzing those around the table, and telling stories. I was comfortable with the crew, even those I didn’t know before walking into PRIDE that morning, and it was a good feeling to be with a group of friends who accept you as you are, no questions asked. For me, that’s what PRIDE is all about, well that and the people watching as they parade past you dressed, and often barely dressed, in everything you can think of, and many things you wouldn’t dream a person would wear in public.

Jen and I hit the road about 8:15 hoping to beat the incoming rain and crawl into bed before it got dark. We managed to pull into the garage at almost exactly 9:30, hang up the gear, and call it a night before the sun was completely down, but we did not manage to beat the rain completely. There was a period of about 5 miles of stinging rain drops on the face and minimal spray off the front tire, but like it often does in Michigan, it cleared, the pavement dried, and the wind dried us out long before we ever got home.
A good day … A long day … and next Saturday we ride to Lansing for Michigan PRIDE, as a pack!

Another meeting for the books

So ... meeting two came and went with nothing spectacular happening, except solidifying my belonging to the group as a whole and building on the fragile new friendships Jen and I have made.

The group is young, still getting it's member base up and running, and expanding by leaps and bounds each week it seems. With just 6 of us there at the table it was the largest meeting ever held, last week was the 2nd largest with only 5 of us there. I can't promise to show for every meeting, not certain that driving into the concrete maze, searching for a parking spot for 10 minutes, and then walking three blocks to get to Comos is worth it every two weeks to be honest, but I can certainly make it once a month!

Things are a little busy for all of us right now, end of Summer, Ren Faire, back to school, job responsibilities, and the daily pressures of life all around ... yet we find time to hang with friends once a week, or every two weeks as the case may be. It's a drive for Jen and, about an hour to get down there on a Wednesday night, but it was fun to just hang out with the girls. We talked about all kinds of things and it will be good for me to open up a little more. Wadog and Ronda asked a few questions when it was just the four of us, I answered honestly but the subjects were broad and light. After the rest of the gang took off for the night and it was just Jen and I with Wadog, she once again asked some general questions just trying to get to know us a little better. Thankfully Jen was there and fed answers when I was still too quiet.

I'm a bit out of practice I suppose, this whole get-to-know-you game is not something I have had to do outside of work in over a decade. I'm learning, I'm more self confident, and eventually I'll open up more freely, even when Jen isn't there to come to my rescue. So many years of hiding and changing pronouns, ducking questions, and withholding information takes a little time to reprogram. This is the first time I have ever hung out with a bunch of dykes and wanted to get to know them. Jen and I are unique, just like each and every member of the group is, and we have our own story that should be shared with those who care to hear it, but I'm not use to people wanting to know. In time I'll share, open up about anything that is asked of me, share things with anyone who asks ... for now, I'm doing my best.

It's Official!

Sometime earlier in the summer Jen sent me an e-mail with a link to a local women’s motorcycle club who was just getting their boots under them and in search of members. Like any good partner, I dutifully checked it out and, upon the page loading fully, began to laugh out loud hysterically. The link was for the Detroit chapter of Dykes on Bikes! It had been somewhat of a running joke between us since I took my first motorcycle safety class in 2007, that someday I would ride home sporting a leather jacket and Dykes on Bikes patch. I was only half-serious in all of those conversations, mostly because I assumed that there were no such chapters here in my home state at all, let alone one in my general geographic portion of this vast land mass.

As I surfed through their burgeoning website seeking information, I stumbled upon a “Contact Us” link and figured what the heck, let’s check it out. I typed up a quick e-mail expressing interest in joining the group and seeking information as to what I needed to do to make that happen as well as when meetings were and what the requirements for membership were exactly. I was shocked to get an almost instant response from their president telling me that simply by sending that e-mail I was considered a member and only needed to make an appearance at a meeting to meet the rest of the crew. I think Jen was even more surprised when I returned from work that evening with the news that I had “joined” and told her we just needed to show up for a meeting.

Meetings are held during the week about an hour from our house and consequentially we never managed to find the time to attend, until last night. When I went to work yesterday, I had no intention of doing anything other than putting in my standard 9-hour day, riding the bike home, and spending some time with Jen after dinner. The Dykes on Bikes meeting was to be held in its usual spot, at its usual time, and not exactly convenient to attend. Sometime around 3 o’clock I got an e-mail telling me that the venue for the meeting had been changed, to within 15 minutes from my house. It didn’t take long for me to realize that this was my chance to grab Jen, head out to our first meeting, and meet the crew. If we hated it we never had to go back and weren’t out anything but a few dollars in the gas tank and an hour or two of our Wednesday night. I managed to get in touch with her, by skirting around the firewall block on instant messaging here at work (don’t tell my boss that I know where the hole is), and she agreed that it was a good opportunity to test the waters. It was a plan!

I have to admit that I was nervous. I was walking into an unknown environment filled with unknown people, and quite possibly into an absolute drama fest in EVERY sense of that word. I’m a Dyke, a Butch Dyke to be exact, and I am well aware of what drama can ensue when you mix too many flavors of Dykes together in one spot for too long. Jen admitted she too was nervous, the whole meting new people thing isn’t usually our style to begin with but we were game anyway. As we pulled into the long driveway and passed clusters of trucks, trailers, and golf carts of crew who were at the fair grounds to shoot a movie, yes real Hollywood type movie with leading roles filled by names of people you would recognize, I was just hoping that I didn’t do something stupid like dump my bike in front of the “biker gang” and be laughed out of the meeting. It was a dirt road and I was carrying a passenger, so it was entirely possible to make a stupid mistake and go toppling over, but alas I managed to make it all the way to the main gate, hit the security checkpoint, and was waived through when I told the kid I was looking for the Dykes on Bikes group. They were easy enough to spot, all three of them standing next to a silver and purple Harley.

I pulled up slowly, flipped up the facemask, cut the engine, and introduced myself. Jen climbed off the bike and did the same as I carefully parked my bike next to that silver Harley and climbed off. They were friendly, entertaining, and genuinely happy to have us join them. I was impressed. I’m not certain what I was expecting to be honest but as we stood there talking, asking and answering questions while we waited for the rest of the group to arrive, my fears dissipated and within minutes I felt like both Jen and I belonged in the group for reasons other than my motorcycle.

The remainder of our evening was spent playing the hurry up and wait game that is so common in the movie business, or so others have told me, having a brief conversation with a producer, then a short meeting with the executive producer, and finally just sitting around a large table talking. I’m not certain anything will come of the movie thing, right now they are trying to work us into the script somehow as ourselves, the Detroit chapter of Dykes on Bikes. They have also offered roles as extras if any of us are willing to dress in period clothing at the Fair for background shots, but the chance to make an appearance in a major motion picture had nothing to do with why Jen and I went to that meeting in the first place. Do I think it would be cool to show up on the silver screen riding in a pack of lesbians down the road somewhere? Absolutely! Would I jump at the chance to make that happen? You betcha! However, the feeling I left that meeting with was the reason we went. It is something I have been searching for, something I didn’t know I was missing out on. When the gang headed to the hotel bar to get a drink, and I realized how late it had gotten, Jen and I decided to make our exit. We had not yet eaten dinner and since she gets up for work at 5am, we needed to get some food and head home to bed as quickly as possible. The group seemed genuinely bummed that we were heading out for the night, yet happy that we had finally made an appearance in a meeting. We parted ways with smiles and hugs, we were officially part of the family and I look forward to making time to attend more meetings in the future.

Mom, it’s official, your daughter is a self-proclaimed Dyke, she owns a motorcycle, and she is now an active member of the Dykes on Bikes!

To the crew from last night, Heather, Ronda, Marianne, Meg, and Cristi (I hope I spelled them right girls) THANK YOU! I have never in my life, been in a group of people who were so friendly, easy to talk to, fun, energetic, and understanding of my view of the world from the moment they laid eyes on me. It was truly an eye opening experience to hang out with you girls and I look forward to our next encounter. RIDE ON!