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All day the noise and smells from the roadwork behind my house assault my brain. Drilling, scraping, jackhammering, dumping, steamrolling, beeping. This has been going on for many months. They say it will be finished by the end of this year. Then the construction in our condo complex will make its way onto our block. The front porch of the house above ours is tilting downward. Sagging? Can concrete sag? To prevent the sudden collapse of the concrete onto our heads as we walk out of our front door, they installed two thick poles that frame our front door and theoretically hold up the dispirited concrete. Later, they added poles running diagonally from the front of our house to the cement stairs we walk down to reach our house. These poles prevented us from walking directly to our next door neighbor’s house. Instead we have to walk up our stairs and down theirs to get to the door that’s maybe six feet away from ours. More recently they installed large sheets of plywood next to our door and the neighbor’s door, and began to dig a hole through what was the walkway between them. I don’t know what the hole is for. It’s been there for months now.
At night the noise from within my head keeps me awake. Until the last couple years, falling asleep came easily to me, and I could do it under almost any circumstances. Now, the tiny blinking light from a digital device, the gurgle of the toilet running downstairs, the smell of my own sweat will keep me awake. As many nights as not I have to move to a different room because my husband is snoring. We’ve shared a bed for 21 years and I’m sure he didn’t just start snoring this year, but I’m no longer able to ignore it. He says I snore too, which may be true but he manages to sleep anyway.
Of course it’s not just the external stimuli that keep me awake. It’s also the trickster commonly called perimenopause. If you’re a woman my age and you’re experiencing almost any vexing symptom, it’s likely perimenopause. And it feels impossible to extricate the anxiety from hormonal roller coaster. It’s all in there, swirling around like ratatouille or risotto in my head, convincing me that it requires vigilance and constant attention, lest something boil over or burn.
Meanwhile, in my husband’s brain, insidious and mean-spirited demons, also known as glioblastoma, are at work. He is battling them with daily chemo pills and 30 doses of radiation, which surprisingly feels like nothing. He is feeling fine so far, after weeks of worrying that treatment would knock him out. I am holding my breath, wondering when the other shoe will drop. He is not working, which is understandably confusing for him. He’s had to work for the past three decades. Instead, he is making new friends. Our people have shown up for us in beautiful and powerful ways. Friends signed up to drive him to the hospital every day for radiation. Friends are coming over to play cribbage with him. Friends are taking him to his favorite park. Some of these folks he already knew. Some of them I knew but he had never met. Some of them were, honestly, just acquaintances or friends of friends or people on Facebook who we met 20 years ago, but now they’re real friends, because they are showing up.
My husband is an introvert. He cares about people and he cultivates relationships with people he volunteers and works with, and he is incredibly kind. But he’s often struggled in social situations where he feels like he isn’t being heard, or that his presence isn’t valued. Now, everyone tells him frequently and explicitly that he matters, that he is valued, and that they want the best for him and want to spend time with him and want to be of help. If only it didn’t take a life-threatening diagnosis to make this happen. In ordinary circumstances, it would likely be perceived (by many people, if not all) as awkward or odd to post on social media that you’re looking for good people to do fun things with your husband. But in this situation, it’s all good. He has often wondered (and worried) about what his legacy is, and if he’s made a difference in the world. Now he’s gotten hundreds and hundreds of affirmations and confirmations that his existence and his actions and simply his compassion and kindness have been known and felt and will have ripple effects far into the future.
While he was in the hospital, I embarked on some kind of fever pitch Marie Kondo quest to get rid of stuff from our house. We’ve always had a lot of clutter and I have always—constantly—steadily tried to purge things whenever possible. But this time around I was possessed by this fervor. Friends and family came over and helped me make decisions, organize, and physically remove junk from my house so I didn’t have to worry about it. Bags and boxes went to Goodwill. Bags and boxes were posted on Buy Nothing. I delivered donations to people I thought could use them. I cleaned, I consolidated, I threw away so much crap. Almost all of those piles of “we’ll figure this out later” are gone now. Not that our house is spotless or minimalist now, but I do feel a sense of relief that our existence is less crowded. It’s possible I thought that getting rid of all the unneeded physical stuff would also empty my mind of unnecessary garbage. And maybe in some way it did. Because something had to go to make room for the currently consuming thoughts of scheduling appointments and seeking support and following medication regimens, on top of the regularly scheduled concerns about parenting, paying bills, and that oft-mentioned and elusive “self-care” that I hear so much about. I went to the dentist today and learned that one of my teeth that already had a filling now has a cavity on its side so I will need a crown (or possibly a root canal!) and we’ve maxed out our dental insurance benefit. Does this count as self-care? Technically, I’m caring for myself, but it wasn’t terribly fun. I’ll keep working on that. Oh—I’m going to see live music tonight with friends. Much more pleasant than a root canal.
Between the time I started writing this and now, the noise has stopped. The construction workers have gone home for the day. The wind that’s been blowing leaves around has stilled. I’ll try to follow suit and allow my brain to quiet down as well. At least for a little while.
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Made lists
Cleaned bathrooms for no good reason even the toilets
Threw away old stuff
Poured more Drano down the shower drain
Checked pantry for mouse poop
Washed hands many times
Started laundry and sprinkled in essential oils to combat stink
Washed all the clothes I wore in the hospital and thought of Avett Brothers lyric
Ate a brownie
Finished the milk
Went through the accumulated mail
Found another speed camera ticket
Answered 12-year-old’s question “what happens if you can’t afford to pay a ticket?” by explaining they just keep doubling the fine until you can’t afford it even more and there’s nothing you can do about it
Perused the library books I checked out
Put several in the pile to return
Read a chapter or two of several others, mostly about British witches
Had hot flashes
Changed pajamas
Had hot flashes
Changed pajamas
Ate saltines
Tried to plug in 12-year-old’s phone but couldn’t find the charger
Dust-busted some lint in a corner
Looked online for used loft beds and chairs
Wondered why people use strange names for chairs
Thought about measuring space where chair would go but didn’t, again
Wondered why resale economics is so confusing
Put stuff in Amazon cart for when money appears in bank account
Felt guilty about using Amazon but not enough to stop
Rearranged apps on phone screen to reflect current realities and also make pretty patterns
Checked location of daughter out late at college and remembered it’s ok to go out late at college
Checked location of daughter to make sure she was no longer out
Piled up trash by the front door
Scowled at heap of recycling that has not broken itself down or taken itself out
Checked all social media platforms for anything important, found nothing
Couldn’t stop thinking even for a second during all this activity about the fact that there’s a tumor in a lab somewhere that was recently in my husband’s brain and how that clump of cells has changed all of our lives and we don’t even know how yet
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The night before we drove to Georgia to take my daughter to college, we stayed with my cousin and his family, which includes a clever and adorable toddler. While Zoe had never met the little guy until that night, coming off her summer as a camp counselor and years of babysitting gigs, they became fast friends. Around 4am, I heard Mr. Toddler crying and wanted to give his parents a break and tend to him. He was happy to have a new diaper and I tried to get him back to sleep, but he was not having it. He raced into the living room and I assumed he was heading for his parents’ bedroom. Instead, he veered toward the air mattress where Zoe was sleeping. I tried a few times to scoop him up and redirect him back to his room or just onto the couch with me, but he was insistent on being with Zoe. He snuggled up with her, she curled her arm around him, and they both fell back asleep.
Naturally, I took this as a sign. Here was my baby girl–preparing to make her own way in the world–and instead of seeking comfort, she was providing it to someone else much younger and more vulnerable than she is. Of course, it’s not quite that simple, but it made for a nice metaphor and a sweet photograph.
It’s been two weeks now since we moved Zoe into her freshman dorm. I have reminded myself 1,000 times that Zoe’s experience in college will be different from mine. Our personalities and ways of being in the world are distinct. No one had smartphones or even email or the internet when I started college. Her college–which I think is exactly right for her–emphasizes different values and opportunities than mine did (at least at the time). And, humans are still human and the mix of emotions and desires and fears and aspirations remain the same. I’m so excited to be on my own and I’m terrified to be on my own. I can’t wait to meet new people and make new friends but the ones I have already are so good why do I need others and what if people don’t like me and what if they do and who do I want to be in this place? What if I don’t know what to do? What if I make a mistake? Am I ready for this? This is all so different from what I’m used to and there’s so much to take in–when will I be able to relax and feel like this is home? But I already have a home 600 miles away. Big sigh.
I’m pretty sure all these questions have been swirling around in Zoe’s mind, even though she’s only articulated some of them to me. And while I am absolutely confident that Zoe has what she needs to thrive in college, I have all the correlating parent concerns. Zoe is great at making friends and has demonstrated that in particular throughout the years she’s been a camper and camp counselor. She proved at camp that she can learn new skills and excel at new responsibilities. She’s overcome homesickness and learned from mistakes. She’s planned and taken trips with friends, she knows how to cook, and she’s handled more than her share of car breakdowns. So there is no doubt in my mind that she can do this. It’s more about the how and when. How will she find her people and how long will it take ? Thankfully, she already has a fantastic roommate who she met on Instagram over the summer (which apparently is how many college kids match with roommates these days). Having a great roommate is an ideal foundation, but you can’t put all your social eggs in one person’s basket. Will she take advantage of the opportunities offered to her? Will she go after things that might be outside her comfort zone without me there to encourage her? Will she ask for help when she needs it instead of struggling in silence? Specifically, will she ask for help from people who aren’t me?
This was the primary focus of the day-long family orientation we participated in the day after moving Zoe into her dorm and taking her on what seemed like the 77th Target run of the week. While the students engaged in their own orientation activities, Randy and I heard from deans and department heads and staff and students about all the ways the college works to educate our kids, enable them to become leaders, and teach them to become global citizens (all while providing emotional, social, and physical support and care). Just as life for students is different than it was 30 years ago, so is life for parents. I’ve heard from friends who are college professors and admissions staff the absurd lengths that some parents go to once their children are enrolled to make sure their needs are met–unwilling or unable to let or make their kids figure things out for themselves. (“My child is sick, can someone please bring them some chicken soup?” “I see that it’s raining there, can someone at the school give my child an umbrella?”) So the orientation was provided so anxious parents would know what’s what and how things work, so when our kids inevitably ask us for help or tell us they don’t know what’s going on or how to do what they’re supposed to do, we can tell them with certainty that there’s someone or some office that they can visit. This was a common refrain throughout the orientation sessions, “If you student says they don’t/can’t/haven’t/are confused about something, your job is not to try to fix the problem, or to call us. Your job is to tell your student, ‘Ask your advisor/RA/professor/dean/any of the people at the college whose job is to help you.'”
Two of the deans who we heard from were especially kind and reassuring in their words to us. It was clear they weren’t chastising us for wanting to help our kids. It’s our Mama (or Papa or Auntie or Grandma or Grandpa, etc) Bear instinct. We never want to see our kids struggling or in pain, so we want to make whatever is troubling them go away as fast as possible. Turns out that college is a lot like preschool in some ways. It takes longer and a lot of patience to get your kids to learn to find and put on their own shoes and coat than when you do it for them, but if you do it for them, what incentive do they have to learn to do it themselves? Some kids might decide they want the autonomy, and some kids won’t. I suspect that college will be like preschool sometimes in that I won’t always be able to stop myself from trying to solve a problem instead of encouraging Zoe to solve it herself, but I promise I’m going to try.
The Dean of the College shared in her remarks that she is the mother of a college student herself, and that last year her daughter was a freshman at a college far away from home. Her daughter called to say she was sick–congested, coughing, and generally feeling awful. Often when you feel like that, you just want your mom. And the dean was ready to get on a plane. She said she even had the flight selected on the computer when she called her friend –the other dean–and asked if she should go take care of her daughter. The answer, unsurprisingly, was no. The daughter was not in grave danger–she had a yucky virus. The Mama Dean took some deep breaths and closed her laptop. And it turned out her daughter’s roommates were happy to go to the store to get her some medicine, chicken soup, and gatorade. Her daughter’s professors understood why she missed a couple classes and she was able to make up her assignments. And most importantly, both daughter and mom knew that daughter had made it through being sick far away from home and felt better knowing it. When the dean was telling this story, I started to tear up. I really hadn’t cried the day before–there was so much to be done and so much adrenaline and I didn’t have to say goodbye to Zoe yet–but right then, hearing from Mama Dean, my emotion started to leak out. After that session I went up to Mama Dean to thank her for sharing that story and she said she saw me there in the second row tearing up and that she knew exactly what I was feeling. That was one of the many moments during those two days when I knew that Zoe would be well looked after.
I didn’t realize how soon after hearing these wise words from the college staff that I would have to challenge myself to follow their instructions.
“I got an email from the professor of the class I was on the waitlist for. I didn’t really understand what she was asking us to do and it seems hard and I don’t know what to do should I just drop the class? “
“Why don’t you email the professor and ask her your questions directly?”
“I shouldn’t just drop the class?”
“Well, you could, but I think it would be better if you asked the professor your questions in case you want to take the class or another class from her in the future, so you can get a better understanding of what she’s doing.”
Zoe did email the professor, got more information, and decided she would like to take the class in the future but didn’t feel ready for it yet, which she told the professor. Other questions, “What should I do this weekend? I don’t know anything that’s going on and I don’t know what anyone is doing.” were trickier to answer. I admit I offered some combination of “ask around, look around, what about x or y?” but was met with some resistance. Eventually Zoe said some friends were going thrifting after seeing a movie, and she wanted to go thrifting but not see the movie, and she didn’t know how to accomplish that. At the moment I was tired and I texted, “I trust that you will figure it out.” And lo and behold, she did. She has skipped a few of the activities where I thought she might meet people, but she swore she would attend the student engagement fair tomorrow. I asked her to promise me that she would talk with people at at least four tables and sign up for at least two things. She said she would. I am optimistic.
Meanwhile, she’s been doing her homework. She is excited about her professors and the readings. All her classes are subjects she is genuinely curious about and interested in. I am trying not to ask her too many questions about what she’s doing in class, but am always happy to engage when she brings it up. I learned long ago that I tend to ask more questions than most teenagers (or at least Zoe) are interested in answering. I’m a work in progress. Zoe’s called several times. I’ve learned that if I’m in the middle of something I can text her back to ask if it’s urgent. Usually it’s not and she says I can call her back later. I did pick up right away when she called to tell me about Taylor Swift’s and Travis Kelce’s engagement. Some news just can’t wait.
Even though she was away most of the summer working at camp, this feels different–because it is. I know she’s coming home for a weekend in October, and then for Thanksgiving and winter break. But knowing just how far away she is and everything she’s working to figure out–and how much energy that requires–it’s hard to be the Mama Bear right now. She’s been right here with me for 18 years and suddenly she’s not. My heart hurts.
Some people are more private about their emotions and their family life, which I respect. I tend to share (some might say overshare, but oh well) because I need the solidarity and affirmation and encouragement that my community provides. A couple days ago I posted on Facebook about overwhelming feelings of anxiety brought on by a variety of things, including Zoe’s absence. The responses I received were reassuring and comforting. In particular, a friend of mine from church who has two grown daughters of her own, said this: “Remember that you are with Zoe – as cells created in your body, as a lifetime of wise actions you modeled, and as loving words that will follow her the rest of her days. And she resides in your heart.” Rereading it now makes the tears come again.
Zoe gives me long, emphatic hugs. When we said goodbye the night before we left Georgia, I thought she might hold on forever. I was a little teary then, but I was proud of myself for keeping the sobs in until we were far away from her dorm. As she continues on her college adventure, I’ll be here to listen to–and try not to solve-her problems. And I’ll look forward to that hug when she comes home.
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© Christopher Mueller
Here’s a short story of love and liberation for your Sunday enjoyment.
Chapter 1) For Christmas, my sister and her family gave us tickets to Hedwig and the Angry Inch at Signature Theatre (Arlington’s answer to Broadway). Hedwig is about gender identity and exploration, and liberation, and relationships, and figuring out how to love who you are and encourage that freedom in others. It’s funny and aggressive and profane and tender. It blew us all away.
Chapter 2) Hedwig is a two-person show with the energy of a rock concert (the kickass band is on stage and integrated into the production) combined with the pathos of a tragedy. The stars have to be on and radiant 100%. Hedwig, played by Sawyer Smith (they/she), in particular, does most of the talking, teasing the audience, singing (think diva with spectacular range), and dancing, all while wearing fabulously creative costumes and gravity-defying wigs. Yitzhak, played by V Sterling (they/she/he), is Hedwig’s partner/assistant/foil depending on the moment, and also sings like an angel or a demon, depending on the scene.
Chapter 3) Anyway, this is not actually a theater review. The important bit about this show is that it affected Niki in a way that I have never before seen them react to or connect with a piece of theater. They were profoundly moved by seeing Hedwig. It meant a lot to them. That night after the show we waited around for a while to see if we could meet Sawyer and V, but eventually we had to go home before they appeared.
Chapter 4) I knew the Hedwig was closing tonight and I had hoped to take Niki to see it again, but tickets were almost all sold out and quite expensive, as the show was extremely popular. Apparently it was a record-breaking run, but I’m not sure what record it broke. Last week I stopped by the theater, sat in the lobby, and wrote a letter to Sawyer and V. I told the actors about Niki and our experience at the show and how we hoped to come again, or, if we couldn’t get tickets, to at least meet Sawyer and V. I gave them my email address and phone number. I asked the people at the box office for an envelope and to please deliver the letter. They promised to leave it in the dressing room.
Chapter 5) Last night I got a text from Sawyer, saying they thought the show was sold out but they’d definitely be happy to meet us after today’s matinee. I looked on Signature’s website and discovered two seats left for the matinee. They were pretty pricy, however, so I figured I would buy them in person so I could try to get the student price ($25) for one of the tickets. When I got the message, Niki and Randy and I were in the middle of watching an especially intense episode of Andor, so I waited until it ended and I ran out of the house, yelling behind me that I had to run an errand immediately (and unintentionally freaking Niki out). I sped to the theater only to discover the box office was already closed. I explained the situation to another employee, who suggested I email the box office right away with my request and call them as soon as they opened this morning. I had wanted to keep my errand a secret so that if it didn’t work out to see the show, Niki wouldn’t be disappointed. But after I got home we went out for ice cream and I had to explain to them what I had been doing because they were alarmed at my sudden, unexplained departure. They promised that even if we couldn’t get tickets, they appreciated me making the effort.
© Christopher Mueller
Chapter 6) I called the box office this morning at 10 (from church, as I was helping lead today’s service) and left a message. I called again at 11, when my part of the service was over, and left a message. Shortly thereafter I got an email from the box office saying that unfortunately those tickets had been sold, but that we could come for the rush period before the show in case someone turned in their tickets or didn’t come. The matinee was at 2, and the rush period starts at 12:30, so the email suggested we bring things to do.
Chapter 7) With water bottles, books, playing cards, my laptop, and a phone charger all in my backpack, we arrived at Signature at 12:30, identified ourselves, and settled into a pair of purple armchairs to wait. Niki read a novel. I wrote an article. We watched people walk through the lobby doors. At 1:45, one of the box office staff came over to where we were sitting. I felt certain she was going to say that everyone had shown up with their tickets and we would have to go home. Instead she said, you’re in luck, there are two tickets in the front row center that opened up. Niki and I leapt out of our seats, our hearts racing. We followed her to the counter to pay, and even more fortunately, the tickets cost only $30 each because that’s the rush price. I hadn’t even known that was a thing at Signature. Everyone at the box office seemed genuinely happy for us.
Chapter 8) We took our seats. If you’ve never been to Signature Theatre, you should know that there’s no bad seat in the house—actually there are two theaters there and they’re both pretty intimate and the way the stage and seats are arranged, you can always see what’s happening. But when you’re in the front row (which we’ve been privileged to be for Into the Woods and In the Heights), you can see everything, like every expression and teardrop and bead of sweat on the actors’ faces and every stitch and sequin in the costumes, and every clever detail of the set. So in the front row for Hedwig, we were approximately a foot or two away from the actors at any given time. We were close enough that Sawyer took Niki’s hat and placed it on top of their voluminous blond wig for a moment. We were close enough that Sawyer made eye contact with Niki and winked during another song. We were close enough that Sawyer reached out and clasped the hands of everyone in the front row, and for an instant held Niki’s face in their hands. The whole performance was even more phenomenal the second time, and left Niki in a puddle once again.
Chapter 9) Afterward we made our way to the lobby, still feeling the emotional aftershocks of the show. A little while later, once most of the audience had left, Sawyer and V (and Marika Countouris (she/her), the awesome keyboard player in the band and the show’s musical director) emerged through the stage doors. Sawyer and V came out with arms wide open to give us hugs. They were so kind and sweet and posed for pictures and signed Niki’s program. Sawyer told Niki to keep being themselves and called them angel. Then they gave us more hugs.
Chapter 10) Niki gave ME a lot of hugs in gratitude for making all that happen. I couldn’t have made it happen without the pro tips from the box office staff and the generosity of the actors, who were willing to connect with Niki, during and after the performance, and show them some love. Niki is 12 and I don’t know what’s going on in their head a lot of the time, but I know they take in a lot of what’s going on in the world. Right now, there’s a lot of hate and cruelty swirling around in the atmosphere. As much as we tell Niki we love them and we have their back and we’ll do whatever it takes to support and protect them, I suspect they know there may be battles ahead they will have to fight on their own. In the first song in the musical, Hedwig sings
Enemies and adversaries
they try and tear me down
You want me, baby, I dare you
Try and tear me down
Niki won’t forget seeing Hedwig sing that just for them.
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It’s been a rough week to be the parent of a trans kid and an advocate for the queer community. I told a friend that it feels like you’ve just recovered from a gut punch, caught your breath, and stood back up, when another punch comes straight at you. Of course, this is what it feels like to be just about anyone in the US since January, unless you’re a rich and powerful white cis straight man. If your demographic or your job or your ethnic group or religion hasn’t already been attacked, just wait a few minutes.
I’m trying not to feel like I’m being dragged under the waves, but it’s hard. Thank goodness there are always books! Helping people feel connected with other humans since the invention of the printing press!
To celebrate Pride month, I’m writing about 30 of my favorite LGBTQIA+ authors and books that center queer characters. I’ve been posting on LinkedIn and Facebook, and I shared the first 10 titles here. Now here’s the second installment of 10 more books.
No. 11) Sir Callie and the Knights of Helston by Esme Syses-Smith
I was not expecting to feel so seen by this book. While 12-year-old nonbinary Callie is the main character here, the author does an outstanding job conveying the struggles of Callie’s dad to protect and advocate for his kid (and other queer or outsider kids he encounters) in an exceedingly traditional (read: hostile) environment. Yes, this is a middle grade book, but in many ways I felt like it was written for me.
No. 12) Pink, Blue, and You! Questions for Kids about Gender Stereotypes by Elise Gravel – français
https://elisegravel.com/en/
Elise Gravel is one of our favorite authors. She is imaginative, compassionate, and funny, and she explores all kinds of topics in her books. Pink, Blue, and You! examines some of the myths our culture perpetuates about gender and invites readers to decide for themselves what they think about what kind of activities and attributes are appropriate for different kinds of humans.
No. 13) The Magnus Chase trilogy by Rick Riordan
https://rickriordan.com/…/magnus-chase-and-the-gods-of…/
God bless Rick Riordan. He’s most famous for the Percy Jackson universe, but he’s written a lot of other books as well. Riordan does a terrific job featuring characters who are diverse in race, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, religion, gender, and other ways without tokenizing these differences. He’s also helped publish a variety of authors whose fantasy series are rooted in lore from around the world.
But right now I’m talking about the Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard trilogy, set in the world of Norse mythology. This series includes genderfluid and pansexual characters, and reading the books with my then-eight-year-old helped them find the words to come out as nonbinary.
No. 14) Augusten Burroughs
https://www.augusten.com/about.html
I am in the middle of listening to Augusten Burroughs’ Lust and Wonder, which apparently came out in 2016 but just came to my attention recently. If you haven’t heard of him, I recommend starting with Running with Scissors. Most of his books are memoirs, but his life has been so unusual you might think they’re fiction. I love his honesty and insights and he’s funny as hell.
No. 15) The Heartstopper series
https://aliceoseman.com/heartstopper
Heartstopper started as a web comic that quickly amassed a huge following, the became a series of graphic novels, and then was picked up by Netflix for several wonderful seasons, which are expected to culminate in a feature film this year. The stories are about these teenagers who are so normal and so unique in the way all teenagers are. They have challenges with their parents, or bullies, or self-image, or anxiety, AND they have each other AND they are all figuring out their sexuality and gender identities. The books and the show are incredibly sweet and true and heartbreaking and joyful. I would recommend these to folks who don’t necessarily have LGBTQIA+ kids (that you know of), but would like to (or should) learn more about what it’s like to be a queer kid.
No. 16) Spin with Me by Ami Polonski
A question that isn’t always explored in books about queer identity is what it means when a person who thought they were straight develops romantic feelings for someone who is gender expansive. That’s a central theme in Spin with Me, a beautifully written story featuring a girl who temporarily moves to a new town with her dad and makes a new set of friends. Fun fact, after we finished this book, Niki wrote a message to the author through the author’s website and got a response right away!
No. 17) Brandi Carlile‘s Broken Horses
https://brokenhorsesbook.com/index.html
Brandi Carlile is one of my favorite artists and someone I think is just a beautiful, brilliant, badass human. She is one of the few musicians who my husband and teenagers and I all equally love. We’ve seen her in concert several times. So if you don’t know her music, listen to it now. Then read her memoir. Better yet, listen to her memoir because she sings throughout it, songs you won’t hear on any album, but that influenced her or meant something important to her at some point in her life. She’s not only a songwriter, but she’s an insightful and talented memoirist as well.
No. 18) Dear Mothman by Robin Gow
My kid recommended this to me a while ago and I just remembered to read it. Dear Mothman pierced my heart in the best possible way. It’s about being a trans kid who feels very alone, then finally seen, and suddenly alone again and the lengths they go to to find acceptance and love. And it’s a novel written in verse, which is always cool. And Robin Gow is a trans author who I’ve just discovered has written several other books which I plan to read immediately.
No. 19) Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid
https://taylorjenkinsreid.com/books/the-seven-husbands-of-evelyn-hugo/
While LGBQTIA+ people today certainly don’t have it easy, given the political climate fomenting homophobia and transphobia, coming out as a queer person in 2025 is definitely not as seemingly impossible and dangerous as it once was. This book explores the lengths to which gay people in show business went to keep their private lives secret, and the effect that had on the people they loved.
20) Over the Top by Jonathan Van Ness
https://jonathanvanness.com/books/
I am such a Queer Eye fan that I have the lego set on my desk–a little lego version of JVN is styling the hair of the lego version of their former high school music teacher. I love Jonathan because he always makes people feel good about themselves no matter what, because he’s spent a lifetime learning to feel good about their own identity in the face of negative messages from all fronts. Over the Top is JVN’s first memoir, but he’s also written other books–fiction and nonfiction–for kids and adults about loving yourself just as you are.
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Dear World,
Apparently some other voters elected this unfathomably cruel, heartless, short-sighted, ignorant individual to the White House. It’s hard for me to understand why they did this. I voted for Kamala Harris.
Nevertheless, not only my family and friends and many people I know, but millions more who I don’t know are being or will soon be directly and egregiously harmed by the likely illegal actions of the administration in its first two weeks alone. People’s lives will be irrevocably changed. People are going to suffer. People are going to die. Not just liberals or immigrants or queer people, but millions of innocent people across the United States and around the world who are (in many cases unknowingly) being targeted by the dangerous and destructive policies this administration is implementing.
What’s happening is heartbreaking and gut-wrenching. We cannot let this man or his enablers break us. We cannot let them win. It is clear they intend to throw everything they possibly can in our faces until they beat us down. We have to stand tall, and when we fall, help each other up. There’s no panacea for this insipid sickness. There ARE a lot of humans out there committed to doing good in their communities and in the world. There ARE a million little things we can to do care for each other, support people who are doing the hard work, do what we can when we can, and step back and rest when we need to, because that’s just as important.
We are sailing in rough waters through a violent storm. Hold on. Hold on to each other. Cry when you need to cry. Laugh when you can laugh. Find ways to keep creating, building, sheltering, protecting, uplifting, singing, listening, learning, teaching, nurturing, giving, imagining, caring, loving. We need all the energy we can muster. Let your righteous indignation and your holy anger fuel your work. And remember to breathe. We’re going to need stamina for this fight. And snacks. Don’t give up.
If you need me, let me know. If I need you, I will do the same. We need each other to survive. And we will. Together.
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I would get lost on a path
I would get wet under a roof
I would be jolted awake by silence
No one else can come to the rescue
It’s just me vs. the jackhammers
the narcissists the black holes the ignorant
the sirens and the mass of melting neurons
My cup has been emptied
Every drop leaking out before
I can bring it to my lips
I know I am not the only casualty
The brilliant rainbow and the fluffy white clouds are littered with bodies
I am not special
But I once was
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Yesterday I had the privilege of leading the service at UUCA with my friend and fellow worship associate Tommy Lo, featuring insightful reflections from Amy Dryer and Roberta Finkelstein, all on the theme of genuine invitations. Also great music from our new music director, David Mann. We heard people were moved to tears, so we did our job. 🙂 Click the video above to watch the service.
Here is my reflection from the service:
Last week my 11-year-old and I received an unexpected invitation. Our poet friend Regie Cabico called to ask if Niki and I would write poems for an event celebrating the freedom to read. We met Regie last year when he taught a poetry unit to Niki’s class, which unleashed the poet in Niki who we had previously never met. Niki actually won the inaugural poetry slam at their school, and was a finalist in the UU Congregation of Sterling’s poetry slam, where all the other poets were adults, including me.
The Celebration of Reading event was designed to clap back at the rising tide of book bannings, especially books by and about queer people, people of color, people with disabilities, and other identities that are unfathomably threatening to those who love censorship. Apparently some of these folks also feel threatened by great soccer players and cows. One of the books on the table was a little golden book about Argentinian soccer star Lionel Messi. Was it banned by soccer fans who preferred Real Madrid to Barcelona, where Messi spent most of his career? Another banned book was Click Clack Moo: Cows that Type, a long-time favorite in our family, about farm animals who find a typewriter and demand upgrades in their accommodations from the farmer. Perhaps those who want to ban this book fear an uprising from cows who might read it?
Anyway, Regie wanted Niki and me to write about how books have shaped our identities and changed our lives. In my poem I wrote about Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret, and thanked Judy Blume for unlocking the mysteries of puberty. I wrote about The Color Purple and thanked Alice Walker for teaching me the universality of tenderness and tenacity. I wrote about The Hate You Give and thanked Angie Thomas for replacing headlines with humanity and empathy.
And I wrote about books featuring queer characters that have opened the world for my family. Here’s one short passage from my poem, about a book called Sir Callie and the Champions of Helston.
Thank you to Esme Symes-Smith
for bringing Callie into our lives.
I’ve never had a wish to be a knight of the realm
or a princess in the palace,
but I have never felt more seen than
reading about how Callie’s dad did his best
to fight for his nonbinary would-be knight
to claim their power
in the old-fashioned
heteronormative kingdom of Helston.
In Niki’s poem, they wrote about times they were criticized for disrupting gender stereotypes, long before they came out as nonbinary. And they wrote about Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard, a series by Rick Riordan, which includes a character named Alex Fierro who identifies as gender fluid. Niki wrote that they always knew they were different, but they didn’t have the language to describe how they felt until they read Alex Fierro’s words explaining how they weren’t just a boy or just a girl.
Niki and I read the Magnus Chase books together the summer between their second and third grade years. I had no idea when we started reading them that gender identity would be a major theme in the books, which are largely based on Norse mythology. Although I’ve since learned there is a lot of gender expansiveness in Norse mythology, so it makes sense. I am thankful to Rick Riordan for creating Alex Fierro and giving my kid the vocabulary to articulate their identity.
In the years since Niki came out, I have spent a lot of time educating myself about gender and sexuality and making sure that my kid is surrounded by people who support them and embrace their identity, and the resources they need to grow up healthy and confident as their unique awesome self. When we invite young people to be themselves, we have to actually mean it. We owe it to them to do everything in our power to ensure that their schools and teams and troops and congregations and all the environments they’re in are willing and able to show them they are perfect just as they are.
I also try to make sure other families have the information and connections they need to support their LGBTQIA+ kids. That’s why my friend Tracey and I started a covenant group a few years ago for parents of gender-expansive kids. And why we created QA2: Queer and Questioning, Awareness and Acceptance–an event for LGBTQIA+ young people and their families last year. At last year’s gathering we invited dozens of community organizations to participate so kids and their families could see what resources are available, ask questions, and make connections. We invited a fantastic panel of queer individuals and advocates to speak about their experiences and offer advice.
This year, we’re doing it again, but bigger and better. We’re going to have workshops on gender-affirming care, legal issues, and queer futures. We’re going to have vendors who offer products and services that specifically meet the needs of queer young people. This event is open to the public and we hope to have hundreds of folks from across the DMV coming through our doors, knowing they will be 100% welcomed and supported by everyone we’ve invited to be here.
Which brings me to my invitation to you. We have some fierce mama bears organizing this year’s QA2, but we still need help. If you have connections to LGBTQIA+ friendly service providers, we want to hear about them. If you are part of an LGBTQIA+ organization, we want to hear from you. And even if you don’t have any of these connections, or even know any queer youth, but you want to help, we will absolutely find a job for you. We need people to help organize, and also folks to help with logistics on the day of the event–October 5. If you have any questions or suggestions or want to volunteer, I invite you to talk with me after the service or email me. If you go to the church website and search for QA2 you can find the address to contact me directly.
Like I said before, when we invite someone to come out, we’ve got to make sure they’re coming out into a safe and welcome space. I invite all of us to create that space, and protect it fiercely and unapologetically. May it be so.
Throughout the service we talked about different kinds of invitations. And we created some actual invitations for folks to take with them when they left the service. We invited everyone to take an invitation of their choice for themselves, or for someone else, or both. Accept the invitation, we said, and see what happens. Here are the pages of cards that we cut up and offered to everyone.
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Instead of taking a last day of school photo, I’m tracking Zoe’s progress toward Central Virginia using the Find My Friends app on my phone. I take a screenshot when I see she’s arrived, her photo floating above the trees at the summer camp where she’ll be working as a counselor for the next 10 weeks. To prepare for this, we went to Costco for sunscreen, bug spray, socks, and other supplies. We ordered rain boots, a jacket, a rainbow of $6 tank tops, and her favorite hair product online. We emptied her trunk–originally purchased for her first time at camp in 2015 and still in astonishingly good shape–and filled it with carefully labeled and rolled-up t-shirts and shorts stuffed into gallon-sized Ziplock bags. We dug out of the closet her camp backpack, which still contained items from last summer, including a sock she’d been looking for everywhere. Last night I filled her tank with gas and this morning I ordered Starbucks for her to pick up at 6:30am on her way out of town.
I have done everything I can to make things easier for her, so she can go out and do hard things on her own.
She’s already done an admirable amount of adulting this year. She navigated junior year with challenging classes and two part-time jobs (three if you count occasional gigs babysitting for a family with three kids and a dog). She learned how expensive gas is (and therefore why it’s important to look for the cheapest gas) and how to get her car serviced and inspected on her own. She’s done banking and cooking and traveling out of state without her family and now she’s driven 90-some miles by herself four times in one week. She wrote her own end-of-the-year thank you note to her English teacher. She’s visited dozens of colleges and made thoughtful decisions about where she will apply this fall, demonstrating maturity and self-awareness.
And now she’s off to work and play for the summer. When she was a younger camper, I asked a few times if she would someday want to be a counselor, and she couldn’t imagine such a grown-up responsibility. Just like when she was a young martial artist and I asked her to picture herself as a black belt and she wasn’t ready to even conceive of the challenge. But her counselors knew that she would join them eventually. They could see it in her even when she couldn’t yet see it in herself. Last weekend she went down to camp for three days of staff training. She was nervous but ready. She was worried she wouldn’t have anyone to talk to or hang out with. By the end of the third day she had already made a friend who she didn’t want to be apart from for the two days she would be home before returning to camp. Thank goodness they are reunited now.
The evolution of parenting takes you from solving all your child’s problems–once you discern what they are–for them to figuring out, one by one, which problems they are ready to take on themselves. This requires careful observation and immense amounts of patience and often guidance from other people who’ve been through it before and can see things more clearly than you can. And as they get older, paradoxically it gets harder. I’d heard that adage from older parents since my kids were small–“little kids, little problems, big kids, bigger problems,” but of course I didn’t believe it until my kids were big. Making the decisions about what decisions to let them make for themselves is actually a lot more overwhelming than changing diapers, if less smelly.
At this point I feel like most of what we can do is gently and as subtly as possible guide them toward what we think would be good paths for them to explore. We are not the type of parents to force them into anything, barring what is required by law or basic human needs. We’ve taught them everything we know (for better or for worse) and to think for themselves. We’ve also taught them that we will always unconditionally be here for them when they need us. And that we trust them to make good decisions, and know that sometimes they won’t, because sometimes we don’t, because we’re human. So hopefully we’ve taught them how to learn from their mistakes. Or at least how to pick themselves up and dust themselves off and keep going.
So this summer while Zoe is working as a camp counselor, I hope she has fun–both with the other counselors and with the kids she will work with. She probably has no idea that so many young kids will look at her as a role model, and talk about how cool she is long after they’ve gotten home from camp, and introduce their friends back home to the music that Zoe introduced them to. I hope they come to her with problems and she helps them figure out what to do, or takes them to whoever can. I hope she learns incredible things from the 70+ other counselors who are there from all over the world, and from however many campers pass through her cabin or the archery range or the arts and crafts building throughout the summer. I hope she sees and hears stories and perspectives that will change the way she thinks and that she will never forget. I hope she tries things she’s never tried before. I hope she can shake off the mistakes she makes, because I’m sure she’ll make them.
I could not be prouder of her, or more excited for what lies ahead for her this summer. And I know I’m going to miss her like crazy. Patience has never been my strong suit, but I will have no choice but to wait for her to be ready to share the stories of her adventures. I know both of us can do hard things.
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Today, for our 20th wedding anniversary, I took our kid to the library to research Megan Rapinoe and browse the cookbook section because our kid has lice and the fifth grade is complete chaos. As is often the case even though we both work from home, Randy and I saw each other in passing, sharing a quick kiss and saying “I love you” when I left the house. We’ve texted more often than we’ve spoken in person today. I am pretty sure he is upstairs right now finishing up his last work meeting of the day from his desk in the corner of our bedroom. His is not an ideal office space, but pandemic + small house = it is what it is. More often we work in the family room together. My desk is there, another space completely lacking privacy. See previous sentence. Meanwhile, Niki is in their room participating in their online book club, and Zoe is working her shift at the front desk at EvolveAll, one of her two afterschool jobs. Dinner will be a meal kit from Marley Spoon. As usual, the washer and dryer are running (today on high heat to guarantee extermination of any persistent lice). Despite our continuous folding, a new mountain of clean laundry is rising on the loveseat.
Lest you think we are completely unromantic, we will celebrate with a date at the Birchmere (one of our favorite live music venues) tomorrow night, sans kids. And, more extravagantly, we are planning a trip to Canada for this summer. This will be our first trip ever without the kids that’ll last longer than a weekend, I’m pretty sure. I am giddy with excitement as I imagine the simplicity of our decision making every time we want to eat or choose an activity for a whole week. So we will continue with our regularly (over)scheduled lives tonight and really do it up in a few months.
We have not bought each other anniversary presents for many years, although we did Google the “traditional” 20th anniversary gift. It is china. We were not interested in china when we got married and we still have no need of it. We also have no plans to visit China, or acquire it. The “modern” 20th anniversary gift is platinum. I’m not even sure what items exist that we could purchase made of platinum. Our friends suggested we dye our hair platinum blond for the occasion. Too much trouble. So I am offering the gift I know best: words.
Things I love about my husband:
- He loves and supports me unconditionally. I remember when I was growing up seeing examples of marriages (not my parents’, thankfully) in which one or both spouses frequently questioned or criticized their choices or actions, even the seemingly smallest and least significant. Our marriage includes a lot of room for mistakes. We’ve both made plenty. We try to model this grace for our kids. Randy encourages me to do what I want to do. He believes in me and reminds me that I’m awesome, and I try to do the same for him.
- He cares so much about the world and the people in it and making life better for them. In my dad’s toast at our wedding reception, my dad said the two of us exemplified the Jewish concept of Tikkun Olam, which means to repair or improve the world. For better or worse, we’re both still at it. Randy devotes a massive amount of time and energy to Tikkun Olam–through both paid and volunteer work as an advocate for economic, social, housing, and food justice. He meets with policymakers to convince them to reinstate the Child Tax Credit and expand nutrition benefits. He volunteers at our local food bank. He writes letters to the editor. He helps total strangers who find him on social media to navigate the complexities of applying for public benefits. He is writing a book. He is ready for a revolution. He has a heart that is sometimes so big it hurts.
- He loves and is moved by music as much as I am. The longer we’ve been together, the more of our musical tastes overlap, and he’s introduced me to some of my favorite artists. There are few things we love more than enjoying live music together. I can usually predict when a piece of music will make him cry. Often we seek or find different things meaningful in the music we listen to, both of us appreciate the power of music and what it means to us individually and together.
- Long, long before he was a dad, Randy was the master of the dad joke. He is a punster of the highest degree. He will never, ever, ever pass up the opportunity to make a joke. One time at the dinner table he burst out laughing seemingly apropos of nothing. After he settled down, we asked what was so funny and he said he couldn’t even remember, but he had remembered something funny from sometime and just started cracking up. I can’t imagine falling in love with someone who didn’t make me laugh. Fortunately Randy makes me laugh every day, so I’m still in love!
- Except for cribbage, with which I struggle because of the mental math, we are absurdly evenly matched at gameplay and wordplay and puzzles and we have fun matching wits. Randy is typically a bit better at strategy and looking ahead to the next move. I’m usually a bit better when speed or improvisation is involved. But give us a crossword or Bananagrams or Trivial Pursuit or just some silly rhyming thing we make up to amuse each other when we’re trying to fall asleep and not think about everything that’s wrong with the world, we’re likely to keep pace with each other until one or both of us just passes out from exhaustion.
- He is still curious and eager to learn and discover new things and people and places. Someday when we have more money and time we will travel to all the places we want to explore. Since we decided to visit Montreal, he has been dedicated to practicing French with Duolingo every day. I haven’t been nearly as disciplined. We are both always reading, writing, and putting ourselves out there in different ways to engage with the world. I can’t imagine either of us ever getting complacent, or apathetic, or bored.
- He is a wonderful dad. For a while he was convinced he wouldn’t know how to be a good dad, but he figured it out. 🙂 He loves and supports our kids unconditionally too, and encourages them to be themselves 100%. He has shared his passion for soccer with them, and they are now as devoted and knowledgable fans as he is, or maybe more. He has such a great attitude about school, and sports, and success in general and helps them to do their best without putting any pressure on them to be perfect.
- He is a phenomenal hugger.
Our wedding day was unusually hot and filled with cicadas and wonderful people and so much love. Twenty years has gone by in a flash, but also contained immeasurable joy and adventure and fun and certainly plenty of challenges. My brain is too full right now to even imagine what’s in store for the next 20, but I’m confident that love and joy and adventure and fun and wonderful people will all be in the mix. In the meantime, it’s time to make dinner. Happy anniversary, babe.
You Ask a Lot of Questions 