I've been wanting to write about this for a while now, and finally got around to it.
A little over five years ago, I stumbled across this amazing group of people. It's changed over the years; people have come and gone, for various reasons; friendships have formed and faded, dynamics have changed. It seems a bit narrowing to just refer to it as a Montford family, because few of us are strictly Montford-associated. Most everyone works with other theatre companies, and some are sort of "old-Montford" and don't really actively participate with that particular company any longer, mostly for benign reasons, different opportunities. But Montford is where a lot of us come together, and it's special. It's an association that stays. It's home.
I still remember when I first heard the term; I was at Usual Suspects, meeting up with some people I knew and some I didn't. I was very, very new to the whole community, and I didn't consider myself a full-fledged member by any means, yet. But then Steph introduced me to someone, and her exact words were, "This is Mandy - she's part of the Montford family." For some reason, hearing those words made me so, so happy and proud, because I already felt like these people were family. Hearing someone else confirm it was such a fantastic feeling.
We're like any other family, in a lot of ways. We bicker. We have falling-outs. We laugh together, go on outings together, spend time listening to one another over coffee and chocolate, whiskey and wine. We look out for each other. We celebrate milestones together, birthdays and weddings and babies.
Last month, I had two reminders of just how much of a family we all really are. The first was the passing of a dear member of our family. Kevin was never onstage, but he came faithfully to shows, he offered his companionship and support, and he loved. He was so good at loving, and it makes me smile just thinking about it. Kevin was one of the first people I met at Montford, celebrating Twelfth Night with a party in the green room on a cold January day. He had on a jester's hat. Later that night, several of us went to Usual Suspects; it was really my first time meeting most of these people, but I already felt so at ease with all of them...and I somehow already felt that Kevin, Travis, and Darren would feel like my brothers. They did, and do.
Losing one of those brothers was hard, but being with my Montford family during a lot of that time was somehow very beautiful. On Valentine's Day, we all came together at a service honoring Kevin. Old members and new, close and distant, we shared our grief together in the sort of quiet way that families do. I felt so, so blessed looking around that sanctuary and seeing that that family, so privileged to know these amazing people who don't just come for the happy times, but stick around for the sad, as well.
It happened that the show I was directing for CDS was playing the next night. Several members of that family came to see the show, which might not sound like a big deal. What was a big deal to me is that, by coming out, they were showing their support for the Montford people IN the show; David and his marvelous boys. They were doing just what a family does: supporting one another. They weren't just coming out to see a play; they were coming out to see Ben in a lead role, coming out because he is a part of that family.
Having those two experiences, flush up against one another like that, made me reflect on just how wonderful our community is. There's a quote from a play called Marvin's Room, a play I did in college; it's printed on our show T-shirts, and I remember at the time that no one wanted this particular quote on the shirt. We all thought another quote would have been a much better choice. We thought it didn't make sense out of context, even though in the scene, it does: the main character is talking about how she isn't lucky to have BEEN loved, she is lucky to HAVE loved. I never wear the shirt, because I hardly ever wear T-shirts. But that quote, the one none of us wanted, has stuck with me for all these years, and I always feel like it describes my feelings perfectly:
"I am so lucky to have loved so much."
Friday, March 29, 2013
Sunday, December 23, 2012
I had a birthday party.
I feel like a little kid. I had a birthday party, people. A SURPRISE birthday party. On my actual birthday. With friends and candles and a cake with a pony on it and pizza and BIRTHDAY cards. And even a couple of presents. I keep getting all teary-eyed whenever I think about it. Then I get over feeling teary-eyed and feel like jumping up and down.
Anyone out there who has a birthday really close to Christmas knows it's not really the most fun time of the year to celebrate a birthday. I mean, there are a lot of things in life that are a whole lot worse, but...it's just kinda not that fun. Most people forget your birthday entirely (or at least, they did before Facebook). It's rare to get a birthday card from a friend because everyone's so wrapped up with Christmas cards. Presents are usually lumped in as "Christmas and birthday" (which is only cool if it's a really neat present), and forget about having a birthday party; everyone's either out of town or busy with the holidays. So yesterday was really, really awesome for me. I do wish more people could have been there (apparently the whole thing was last minute and the word didn't really get out to everyone), but with the Christmas Carol cast factored in, it felt like a LOT of people. And they all said surprise! And sang me happy birthday!
(Suddenly I'm taken back to a video of myself as a four-year-old child, opening a cheap plastic doll from a random old lady who was the mom of one of my mom's friends. I looked at the package and exclaimed gleefully, "Oh, it's just what I always wanted!". Apparently I take a lot of pleasure in the simple things.)
I have a really awesome husband who managed to keep a secret from me. And I have a really awesome best friend who somehow manages to do just the right thing sometimes.
Anyone out there who has a birthday really close to Christmas knows it's not really the most fun time of the year to celebrate a birthday. I mean, there are a lot of things in life that are a whole lot worse, but...it's just kinda not that fun. Most people forget your birthday entirely (or at least, they did before Facebook). It's rare to get a birthday card from a friend because everyone's so wrapped up with Christmas cards. Presents are usually lumped in as "Christmas and birthday" (which is only cool if it's a really neat present), and forget about having a birthday party; everyone's either out of town or busy with the holidays. So yesterday was really, really awesome for me. I do wish more people could have been there (apparently the whole thing was last minute and the word didn't really get out to everyone), but with the Christmas Carol cast factored in, it felt like a LOT of people. And they all said surprise! And sang me happy birthday!
(Suddenly I'm taken back to a video of myself as a four-year-old child, opening a cheap plastic doll from a random old lady who was the mom of one of my mom's friends. I looked at the package and exclaimed gleefully, "Oh, it's just what I always wanted!". Apparently I take a lot of pleasure in the simple things.)
I have a really awesome husband who managed to keep a secret from me. And I have a really awesome best friend who somehow manages to do just the right thing sometimes.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Connecticut
I have been selfishly trying not to think about Connecticut since Friday. I can't let myself be affected by this, not when there are children who come running up to throw their arms around my legs when I walk into a room with shouts of, "Miss Mandy! Miss Mandy, can I play with your hair? Miss Mandy, will you swing me around? Miss Mandy, come look at my airplane that I built!"
I don't have time to be affected by this. I don't want to be affected by this.
But I am. We all are. Especially those of us who are educators. I kept overhearing snippets of conversation at work, hearing the teachers talk to each other about what they would do if someone barged in on us with a gun. I didn't comment. I tried not to listen. But those thoughts are in my head, too; they've been in my head since Friday. I think to myself, "If I were in the three-year-old room, those windows are easy to open; I'd get them all out the window, tell them to head for the side of the building, because surely they'd have a better chance out there than cornered in their classroom." And then, "What if I were in the infant room? I can only carry two babies at a time; do I put them all in the closet and shield them? Do I stick them into the evacuation crib, treat it like a fire drill, get them out onto the playground and hope whatever maniac is after them doesn't follow?"
The reality is, there is no way to plan for such a thing happening. Such a thing shouldn't be happening. And it's easy to pretend for a little while that it hasn't happened; it's easy to go to holiday parties, enjoying egg nog and laughter and gift exchanges, but the fact remains that this has happened. There are children that will never see the Christmas presents bought for them; there are teachers who died trying to protect those children. It happened. And it will happen again if something doesn't change. Something has to change.
In the meantime, we all keep going about our lives as best we can, hoping it isn't our town next time. Hoping it isn't us. And I'll keep looking at the smiling faces and bright eyes of all the children in my life, wishing my arms could somehow be big enough to hold them all at once.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Day of the Dead
Home sick with a stomach bug. There are plenty of things I SHOULD be accomplishing with this extra time, but...well, emphasis on the "sick". I kind of just want to stay in bed for a while until I have to head out for other jobs.
I love Halloween. Yesterday was a whole lot of fun - for the first time in my life, I was in a house in an actual neighborhood for the holiday, so I got to see all KINDS of trick-or-treaters. Totally made my night. I also loved seeing Scott and Jason handing out candy - at one point they were doing so at the same time, and we think they may have been mistaken for a couple, judging by the smiles and waves from the parents of the kids, which is just adorable. After all that, I ended up winning third place in a (small) costume contest, which was just awesome - I've never come anywhere close to having the best costume. Then again, I've never entered that many contests.
So, today is Day of the Dead, and I've been seeing people post about their loved ones. It made me realize that I've lost a lot of people that were very important in my life...which reminds me just how lucky I am to have had SO many important people in my life.
Granny, who I barely remember, but still dream about sometimes and still wish to be just like. I miss you, and I am absurdly pleased whenever anyone points out that I have your legs or that my pie crusts taste just like yours did. I might miss you the most because to this day I wish I had gotten more time with you.
Papaw, who used to pass the time with me just sitting on the front porch watching cars go by on the semi-distant highway, guessing what color car would come next. You used to let me win at checkers when I was tiny, until I got mad when I realized you were throwing the game and refused to play with you for a solid month. Somehow what I have of yours is crooked pinky fingers, oddly shaped feet, and determination.
Grandmother, so petite and spunky in this oddly genteel way. I miss your garden and your cookies, and the witty, almost flirty way you joked with people. My mother likes to say "Mary Garrison will never die as long as Mandy's around" whenever I start to leave - because I start to leave at least ten minutes before I actually get out the door, then dawdle around saying goodbye and gathering up things, just like you.
Aunt Doris, always gentle and quiet, but still able to banter with your sister about who got to be the "boss" on any given day. When everyone else laughed at me for wanting to be an actress, and my Mama jokingly said, "Well, if you end up starvin' in New York, don't come running to me!", you put your arm around me and said, "Don't worry, honey, as long as I have something to eat, you will, too." I will never forget that, or our walks, or the way you talked to the barn cats.
Aunt Phyllis, who called me your "sleepin' buddy" because you always shared my bed when you'd come visit. You always kept me awake with your snoring, but I was so happy you'd come to visit, I didn't mind.
Uncle Bill, you and I shared a love of those little cinnamon twists Grandmother would make out of leftover dough. I remember how you used to get down in the floor and play with me, and how sad I was when you died before you got to see me driving a car, since it would have made you proud to see me in that old blue Ford Fairmont.
Roseanne, Mrs. Sheppard, the oldest friend I had in both senses of the word. I guess it's all right to tell you now that I never actually liked those Kit-Kat bars you always gave me, but I was always so pleased that you thought enough of me to give them to me. I had the florist put one in the flower arrangement for your funeral. I still have the little horse figurine you gave me, and every birthday card you ever sent to me, and I miss your stories so, so much. I tell them to myself sometimes just so I won't forget them, especially the one about the boys playing guitar outside the sleeping porch when you were in boarding school, and how your daddy had to walk to Burnsville in the rain to get a cab so you could be taken to Asheville to have your appendix out, and how your daddy and my great-granddaddy were such good friends, and how your oldest boy died in a car crash. Good and bad and silly and important, I miss hearing you tell them to me.
Aunt Clara, how you were always so mild until something got you angry, but you never spoke an unkind word to me. Uncle Carl, I once mentioned that I liked the applesauce cake you made, and from then on you made one for me every time I came home from college until you weren't able anymore. Aunt Bert, Uncle Tuck, Luther (the first vehicle I ever drove was your old white truck in the cow pasture), Conrad (everyone in our family still calls you "Conard" because that's how Papaw said your name)....
And Krysten. Oh, Krysten, it amazes me that losing you still pains me so much when we hadn't even spoken in years, except on Facebook. I don't even know if we would have been friends as adults. But I see you at preschool all the time, whenever I see two little girls playing pretend together, and I recognize that their play is so similar to ours. I miss your cheeky smile, and the way you used to scream with laughter when my Daddy would tickle your feet, and how you were so spunky. And bossy. Yes, you were bossy, always telling me that you got to choose what we did because you were older by a whole ten months. Mud pies and hay bales and forts, and forts made of hay bales, and hunting for new baby kittens in the barn loft, and watching Disney movies on rainy days, and dancing to Boot Scootin' Boogie in my living room. I remember spending the night at your house over the years, and it seemed so fancy to me, then! You had a waterbed and a Barbie dollhouse, and you lived in a neighborhood, which was so foreign to me. Our white tennis shoes Mama bought us at Roses that we painted with puff paint - mine were ladybugs, yours were bumblebees. And oh, how we could fight! I vividly remember you standing in the back yard, little hands balled up into fists by your sides while we argued with each other...we had been arguing for several minutes, at least, standing there in a face-off near the cherry tree, neither one backing down, until something dawned on me and I asked, "Krysten, what are we fighting about, again?" You just stopped, the frown left your face and was slowly replaced with a grin, and you said, "I have no idea." We both laughed so hard at how silly it all was, we nearly cried. We had a really good childhood together.
I am so lucky to have loved so much.
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good
It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
Because I knew you
I have been changed for good
And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the thing I've done you blame me for
But then, I guess we know
There's blame to share
And none of it seems to matter anymore
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a bird in the wood
Who can say if I've been
Changed for the better?
I do believe I have been
Changed for the better
And because I knew you...
Because I knew you...
Because I knew you...
I have been changed for good.
I love Halloween. Yesterday was a whole lot of fun - for the first time in my life, I was in a house in an actual neighborhood for the holiday, so I got to see all KINDS of trick-or-treaters. Totally made my night. I also loved seeing Scott and Jason handing out candy - at one point they were doing so at the same time, and we think they may have been mistaken for a couple, judging by the smiles and waves from the parents of the kids, which is just adorable. After all that, I ended up winning third place in a (small) costume contest, which was just awesome - I've never come anywhere close to having the best costume. Then again, I've never entered that many contests.
So, today is Day of the Dead, and I've been seeing people post about their loved ones. It made me realize that I've lost a lot of people that were very important in my life...which reminds me just how lucky I am to have had SO many important people in my life.
Granny, who I barely remember, but still dream about sometimes and still wish to be just like. I miss you, and I am absurdly pleased whenever anyone points out that I have your legs or that my pie crusts taste just like yours did. I might miss you the most because to this day I wish I had gotten more time with you.
Papaw, who used to pass the time with me just sitting on the front porch watching cars go by on the semi-distant highway, guessing what color car would come next. You used to let me win at checkers when I was tiny, until I got mad when I realized you were throwing the game and refused to play with you for a solid month. Somehow what I have of yours is crooked pinky fingers, oddly shaped feet, and determination.
Grandmother, so petite and spunky in this oddly genteel way. I miss your garden and your cookies, and the witty, almost flirty way you joked with people. My mother likes to say "Mary Garrison will never die as long as Mandy's around" whenever I start to leave - because I start to leave at least ten minutes before I actually get out the door, then dawdle around saying goodbye and gathering up things, just like you.
Aunt Doris, always gentle and quiet, but still able to banter with your sister about who got to be the "boss" on any given day. When everyone else laughed at me for wanting to be an actress, and my Mama jokingly said, "Well, if you end up starvin' in New York, don't come running to me!", you put your arm around me and said, "Don't worry, honey, as long as I have something to eat, you will, too." I will never forget that, or our walks, or the way you talked to the barn cats.
Aunt Phyllis, who called me your "sleepin' buddy" because you always shared my bed when you'd come visit. You always kept me awake with your snoring, but I was so happy you'd come to visit, I didn't mind.
Uncle Bill, you and I shared a love of those little cinnamon twists Grandmother would make out of leftover dough. I remember how you used to get down in the floor and play with me, and how sad I was when you died before you got to see me driving a car, since it would have made you proud to see me in that old blue Ford Fairmont.
Roseanne, Mrs. Sheppard, the oldest friend I had in both senses of the word. I guess it's all right to tell you now that I never actually liked those Kit-Kat bars you always gave me, but I was always so pleased that you thought enough of me to give them to me. I had the florist put one in the flower arrangement for your funeral. I still have the little horse figurine you gave me, and every birthday card you ever sent to me, and I miss your stories so, so much. I tell them to myself sometimes just so I won't forget them, especially the one about the boys playing guitar outside the sleeping porch when you were in boarding school, and how your daddy had to walk to Burnsville in the rain to get a cab so you could be taken to Asheville to have your appendix out, and how your daddy and my great-granddaddy were such good friends, and how your oldest boy died in a car crash. Good and bad and silly and important, I miss hearing you tell them to me.
Aunt Clara, how you were always so mild until something got you angry, but you never spoke an unkind word to me. Uncle Carl, I once mentioned that I liked the applesauce cake you made, and from then on you made one for me every time I came home from college until you weren't able anymore. Aunt Bert, Uncle Tuck, Luther (the first vehicle I ever drove was your old white truck in the cow pasture), Conrad (everyone in our family still calls you "Conard" because that's how Papaw said your name)....
And Krysten. Oh, Krysten, it amazes me that losing you still pains me so much when we hadn't even spoken in years, except on Facebook. I don't even know if we would have been friends as adults. But I see you at preschool all the time, whenever I see two little girls playing pretend together, and I recognize that their play is so similar to ours. I miss your cheeky smile, and the way you used to scream with laughter when my Daddy would tickle your feet, and how you were so spunky. And bossy. Yes, you were bossy, always telling me that you got to choose what we did because you were older by a whole ten months. Mud pies and hay bales and forts, and forts made of hay bales, and hunting for new baby kittens in the barn loft, and watching Disney movies on rainy days, and dancing to Boot Scootin' Boogie in my living room. I remember spending the night at your house over the years, and it seemed so fancy to me, then! You had a waterbed and a Barbie dollhouse, and you lived in a neighborhood, which was so foreign to me. Our white tennis shoes Mama bought us at Roses that we painted with puff paint - mine were ladybugs, yours were bumblebees. And oh, how we could fight! I vividly remember you standing in the back yard, little hands balled up into fists by your sides while we argued with each other...we had been arguing for several minutes, at least, standing there in a face-off near the cherry tree, neither one backing down, until something dawned on me and I asked, "Krysten, what are we fighting about, again?" You just stopped, the frown left your face and was slowly replaced with a grin, and you said, "I have no idea." We both laughed so hard at how silly it all was, we nearly cried. We had a really good childhood together.
I am so lucky to have loved so much.
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good
It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
Because I knew you
I have been changed for good
And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the thing I've done you blame me for
But then, I guess we know
There's blame to share
And none of it seems to matter anymore
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a bird in the wood
Who can say if I've been
Changed for the better?
I do believe I have been
Changed for the better
And because I knew you...
Because I knew you...
Because I knew you...
I have been changed for good.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Bigotry and Barbies
I think the one thing I probably have the hardest time understanding in the world is bigotry. I even looked it up just now so that I could have an easier time explaining why I don't understand:
big·ot·ry
[big-uh-tree]
noun, plural -ries.
1. stubborn and complete intolerance of any creed, belief, or opinion that differs from one's own.
2. the actions, beliefs, prejudices, etc., of a bigot.
I think the first four words really sum up everything. "Stubborn and complete intolerance". I mean, I believe in sticking to your own beliefs, and I stick to mine. That doesn't mean I can't listen to someone else's, can't appreciate their side of things. Honestly, the hardest thing in a while that I've had to accept is that a dear friend of mine doesn't believe in souls, and for some reason that's really hard for me, because I do believe in souls so vehemently and because I love this friend and somehow the thought of him not believing in souls makes me really, really sad. But I think me being sad about his belief is definitely not the same thing as intolerance of his belief. Anyway, I digress.
What started this whole line of thought is this blog I've been reading tonight called "Raising My Rainbow: Adventures in raising a slightly effeminate, possibly gay, totally fabulous son." I've read most of the blog entries by now, and it really makes me sad that there are people in the world who can't wrap their head around this little boy's desire to be a princess any more than I can wrap my head around bigotry. It just seems like a no-brainer to me. Kids are going to play with what they're attracted to. Most little boys want to play with guns, and no matter HOW hard PeaceLovingHippieMama (I use that term affectionately) may try to teach nonviolence and ban guns from the house, little boys will build weapons out of Legos and chew them out of peanut butter sandwiches. It doesn't mean they're going to grow up and go on a killing spree. It just means that gender typical boys love playing action hero bang-bang shoot-em-up games. And most people accept this.
People also accept little girls being tom boys. No one thinks twice when little Mary Sue dons jeans and sneakers and starts playing super heroes with the boys. In fact, she's usually applauded for being so tough and holding her own with the guys. Nobody automatically assumes she's a lesbian when she's climbing trees at four years old. Why is it different for little boys? And for that matter, why on EARTH do some people think it's FAIR that it's different?
When I was a little girl, I wore cowgirl boots and jeans and spent a lot of time in the cattle pasture with my daddy and big brother. This was, in fact, my favorite place to be. I made mud-pies, I climbed trees and was brave enough to jump down instead of calling for help when I climbed too high. I was plopped onto the backs of horses (and cows) before I could walk. I was fearless of spiders and snakes and bugs (except locust, which still creep me out). My family was exceedingly proud of my cowgirl ways and my willingness to get dirty, and I loved that. But you know what else I remember loving? Doll houses. Big, beautiful, real wooden doll houses we'd see at the craft store. And tea sets. And Barbie dolls. And oh, those ruffled dresses they sold at Dollywood that were insanely expensive, and the parasols to match...I still get a little teary-eyed over the thought of how badly my little five year old self ached for one of those dresses, and how my mama wouldn't get me one because it was too expensive (and, realizing now how talented she is at the sewing machine, I'm almost bitter that she didn't make me a knock-off copy). I have vowed to buy my children a beautiful doll house because I never got one - although don't get me wrong, I was very spoiled and well taken care of, I just wasn't always listened to when it came to my opinions.
The most hurtful thing my dear, sweet, kind Daddy ever said was meant to be a joke, meant to not even be in my earshot. He was talking to someone about me doing theatre, and he laughed and said, "Yeah, well, I'd thought sure I had myself a cowgirl when she was little." I had to slip off to the bathroom and cry so that Daddy wouldn't see he'd hurt my feelings, because I know he never meant to. He does a great job of loving me, and he and Mama both really try to support the fact that I do theatre and that it's something that obviously isn't going to leave my life. But it makes me wonder what will happen if I have a little rainbow princess boy someday. I see myself as embracing this child's preferences and buying him pink nail polish and creating dress-up clothes for him on my sewing machine, but what about my family? Would they fall into the same category of bigots that sneer at mothers who let their boys dress in pink lace? Would they blame me for buying him Barbies the way those mothers get blamed?
Something else that's seldom brought up is the way people force some little girls into wearing frills and doing girl things. It isn't addressed as much, the same way girls being tomboys isn't such a big deal, but I've seen it. I've seen girls who want nothing more than to play in the mud whose mothers force them into pink frilly dresses and fuss at them for getting sand in their shoes.
Will I buy my little girl frilly dresses? Yes, of course I will. I've waited my whole life for that. But will I keep putting her in those frilly dresses if it becomes obvious she doesn't like them? I hope not. Except maybe once a year. I can hear Scott now: "All right, (daughter's name), it's Mama's birthday, so put your dress on for dinner."
And will I deny my little boy frilly dresses if that's what he wants? Of course not. Will I support him in his gender and sexual identity as he grows older? It seems like a no-brainer, and yet there are people who say they'd rather have their son be missing his left arm than be gay. I just don't understand.
big·ot·ry
[big-uh-tree]
noun, plural -ries.
1. stubborn and complete intolerance of any creed, belief, or opinion that differs from one's own.
2. the actions, beliefs, prejudices, etc., of a bigot.
I think the first four words really sum up everything. "Stubborn and complete intolerance". I mean, I believe in sticking to your own beliefs, and I stick to mine. That doesn't mean I can't listen to someone else's, can't appreciate their side of things. Honestly, the hardest thing in a while that I've had to accept is that a dear friend of mine doesn't believe in souls, and for some reason that's really hard for me, because I do believe in souls so vehemently and because I love this friend and somehow the thought of him not believing in souls makes me really, really sad. But I think me being sad about his belief is definitely not the same thing as intolerance of his belief. Anyway, I digress.
What started this whole line of thought is this blog I've been reading tonight called "Raising My Rainbow: Adventures in raising a slightly effeminate, possibly gay, totally fabulous son." I've read most of the blog entries by now, and it really makes me sad that there are people in the world who can't wrap their head around this little boy's desire to be a princess any more than I can wrap my head around bigotry. It just seems like a no-brainer to me. Kids are going to play with what they're attracted to. Most little boys want to play with guns, and no matter HOW hard PeaceLovingHippieMama (I use that term affectionately) may try to teach nonviolence and ban guns from the house, little boys will build weapons out of Legos and chew them out of peanut butter sandwiches. It doesn't mean they're going to grow up and go on a killing spree. It just means that gender typical boys love playing action hero bang-bang shoot-em-up games. And most people accept this.
People also accept little girls being tom boys. No one thinks twice when little Mary Sue dons jeans and sneakers and starts playing super heroes with the boys. In fact, she's usually applauded for being so tough and holding her own with the guys. Nobody automatically assumes she's a lesbian when she's climbing trees at four years old. Why is it different for little boys? And for that matter, why on EARTH do some people think it's FAIR that it's different?
When I was a little girl, I wore cowgirl boots and jeans and spent a lot of time in the cattle pasture with my daddy and big brother. This was, in fact, my favorite place to be. I made mud-pies, I climbed trees and was brave enough to jump down instead of calling for help when I climbed too high. I was plopped onto the backs of horses (and cows) before I could walk. I was fearless of spiders and snakes and bugs (except locust, which still creep me out). My family was exceedingly proud of my cowgirl ways and my willingness to get dirty, and I loved that. But you know what else I remember loving? Doll houses. Big, beautiful, real wooden doll houses we'd see at the craft store. And tea sets. And Barbie dolls. And oh, those ruffled dresses they sold at Dollywood that were insanely expensive, and the parasols to match...I still get a little teary-eyed over the thought of how badly my little five year old self ached for one of those dresses, and how my mama wouldn't get me one because it was too expensive (and, realizing now how talented she is at the sewing machine, I'm almost bitter that she didn't make me a knock-off copy). I have vowed to buy my children a beautiful doll house because I never got one - although don't get me wrong, I was very spoiled and well taken care of, I just wasn't always listened to when it came to my opinions.
The most hurtful thing my dear, sweet, kind Daddy ever said was meant to be a joke, meant to not even be in my earshot. He was talking to someone about me doing theatre, and he laughed and said, "Yeah, well, I'd thought sure I had myself a cowgirl when she was little." I had to slip off to the bathroom and cry so that Daddy wouldn't see he'd hurt my feelings, because I know he never meant to. He does a great job of loving me, and he and Mama both really try to support the fact that I do theatre and that it's something that obviously isn't going to leave my life. But it makes me wonder what will happen if I have a little rainbow princess boy someday. I see myself as embracing this child's preferences and buying him pink nail polish and creating dress-up clothes for him on my sewing machine, but what about my family? Would they fall into the same category of bigots that sneer at mothers who let their boys dress in pink lace? Would they blame me for buying him Barbies the way those mothers get blamed?
Something else that's seldom brought up is the way people force some little girls into wearing frills and doing girl things. It isn't addressed as much, the same way girls being tomboys isn't such a big deal, but I've seen it. I've seen girls who want nothing more than to play in the mud whose mothers force them into pink frilly dresses and fuss at them for getting sand in their shoes.
Will I buy my little girl frilly dresses? Yes, of course I will. I've waited my whole life for that. But will I keep putting her in those frilly dresses if it becomes obvious she doesn't like them? I hope not. Except maybe once a year. I can hear Scott now: "All right, (daughter's name), it's Mama's birthday, so put your dress on for dinner."
And will I deny my little boy frilly dresses if that's what he wants? Of course not. Will I support him in his gender and sexual identity as he grows older? It seems like a no-brainer, and yet there are people who say they'd rather have their son be missing his left arm than be gay. I just don't understand.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Been a while
Randomly felt like blogging tonight for the first time in a year and a half or so!
I wish for more time to do the things that really matter in life. Like watching the rain fall in the streetlights, or listening to crickets in the summertime, or dancing, or skipping down the streets as they glisten in the moonlight, or hanging out with people you love.
Granted, I do a lot of these things as often as I possibly can. It's just that sometimes, Monday is just around the corner, and I realize that I have to go to work and be responsible and all that jazz just so I can have money to live and eat and do the things that matter. I often play the "what if" game: what if we won the lottery? What would we do with that money? We have all sorts of crazy dreams, from owning a house in Montford for all our actor friends to live in to buying a horse ranch (or, Scott's personal dream, to own a helicopter).
Tonight, however, we were watching his favorite movie, which is Groundhog's Day, and I started playing the "what if" game a different way. What if my life were like that movie? What would I do with that day, over and over, if I knew everything would just start out the same way again tomorrow and there would be no consequences? I know after a while it would get boring, and I'm sure I would eventually just go insane. But just assuming that, in the end, February 3rd would finally come....I mean, it'd be unlimited time. I'd have time for everything. I'd go visit people I haven't seen in too long. I'd convince my friends, one by one, to play hooky from work so we could spend one entire day hanging out together. I'd do some of the things Bill Murrey does in the movie, like learn to play piano (oh, lord, would that I had listened to my parents and taken lessons as a child). And I'd do really silly things, too, like get a different haircut every day to see which one I like the best, since I have such a hard time changing my hairstyle (it's really been the same since I was eleven, except for one perm and one experiment with cutting it to my shoulders). I'd spend days just reading books that I've never gotten to. I'd search for my dream house here in Asheville in the hopes that once tomorrow finally came, I could at least know what I wanted, even if I couldn't afford to buy it. I mean, the possibilities are limitless!
It kind of makes me sad that I don't have the ambition to do some of these things even without unlimited time to accomplish them. But honestly, I'm just not that ambitious. I certainly don't just sit at home every day; anyone who knows me knows that I take every chance I get to get out there and do things with people. It just kind of sucks that the majority of my day, of all our days, have to be spent making money just so we can have the means to get by.
In a nutshell: I wish I had more time to dance.
I wish for more time to do the things that really matter in life. Like watching the rain fall in the streetlights, or listening to crickets in the summertime, or dancing, or skipping down the streets as they glisten in the moonlight, or hanging out with people you love.
Granted, I do a lot of these things as often as I possibly can. It's just that sometimes, Monday is just around the corner, and I realize that I have to go to work and be responsible and all that jazz just so I can have money to live and eat and do the things that matter. I often play the "what if" game: what if we won the lottery? What would we do with that money? We have all sorts of crazy dreams, from owning a house in Montford for all our actor friends to live in to buying a horse ranch (or, Scott's personal dream, to own a helicopter).
Tonight, however, we were watching his favorite movie, which is Groundhog's Day, and I started playing the "what if" game a different way. What if my life were like that movie? What would I do with that day, over and over, if I knew everything would just start out the same way again tomorrow and there would be no consequences? I know after a while it would get boring, and I'm sure I would eventually just go insane. But just assuming that, in the end, February 3rd would finally come....I mean, it'd be unlimited time. I'd have time for everything. I'd go visit people I haven't seen in too long. I'd convince my friends, one by one, to play hooky from work so we could spend one entire day hanging out together. I'd do some of the things Bill Murrey does in the movie, like learn to play piano (oh, lord, would that I had listened to my parents and taken lessons as a child). And I'd do really silly things, too, like get a different haircut every day to see which one I like the best, since I have such a hard time changing my hairstyle (it's really been the same since I was eleven, except for one perm and one experiment with cutting it to my shoulders). I'd spend days just reading books that I've never gotten to. I'd search for my dream house here in Asheville in the hopes that once tomorrow finally came, I could at least know what I wanted, even if I couldn't afford to buy it. I mean, the possibilities are limitless!
It kind of makes me sad that I don't have the ambition to do some of these things even without unlimited time to accomplish them. But honestly, I'm just not that ambitious. I certainly don't just sit at home every day; anyone who knows me knows that I take every chance I get to get out there and do things with people. It just kind of sucks that the majority of my day, of all our days, have to be spent making money just so we can have the means to get by.
In a nutshell: I wish I had more time to dance.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Random Things
I keep thinking of good subjects for blog posts. Then I forget what it was I was going to write about. So, instead, I'm going to answer one of those random questionnaires. The kind that go around Facebook. This particular one simply asks for 15 random facts. Simple enough. I promise to try to be as absolutely random with these facts as I POSSIBLY can. None of this "My favorite color is cerulean" crap. Which it is, by the way.
1. When I was a little girl and my Granny passed away, my family once caught me standing alone in the middle of a field waving up at the sky. When asked what I was doing, my response was, "Oh, just waving to God and Granny". I also still remember talking to my Granny at the chain link fence in Kindergarten - I would ask God to go and get her for me, then I'd wait a minute, then I'd tell her all about my day. I can't really remember my Granny, but I remember this, and it's my proof that she was my best friend in the whole world. I still talk to her, sometimes, and I still think it's amazing that a woman I only knew for the first 3.5 years of my life has had such a profound impact on me. She is my biggest role model, although all I really have to aspire to are stories of her and a strong physical resemblance.
2. June Bugs are the only creatures I think I've ever been intentionally cruel to. I just hate them so much, and I always have. I would catch them eating our rose bushes and pull their legs and wings off. One flew in my hair while I was sleeping as a child; I'm pretty sure this had something to do with my immense hatred for them. The only other bugs I really, really can't stand are cicadas (locally called locust), and that's more terror than hatred.
3. Apparently there was an Amanda Phillips who got married on September 25th of last year. She also registered at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. This has apparently caused some confusion for some of our wedding guests...most notably my mother, who wondered why the heck we'd registered for beer mugs.
4. I was a dancer for 18 solid years of my life, from the age of 2 to the age of 20. I haven't really danced, other than the occasional number in a musical, since I was 20. On Monday, I will become a ballet teacher for three different ballet classes, ages 3-4. Somehow, even with 18 years of ballet behind me, that 5 year gap has made me utterly terrified of this new development.
5. I really think that everyone has more diverse interests than we give them credit for, and that you can't tell what people like and dislike just by what "type" they fit. However, I also really and truly believe that I have more diverse interests than anyone else I have ever met. I spent a few unhappy months of my life trying to figure out exactly what mold I best belonged in, and I only ended up frustrated. I think there are plenty of people who just don't fit a mold...my problem is I fit so MANY molds. I finally decided to say 'screw it' and now I choose to step into whatever mold I like best at the time. Hence the title of this blog.
6. I have an inexplicable attraction to plump, redheaded women. I really don't know quite where this started. This is not to say that I have the hots for every plump redhead in the world; actually, I would classify myself as at least 95% straight, but I think anyone who thinks they are 100% straight is in complete denial. However, of the women that I am/have been attracted to, whether in real life or on the screen, nearly ALL of them have been plump redheads. I also have a desire to BE a plump, middle-aged redhead. I'm not really sure if the desire to be one fuels my attraction to them, or if it's vice-versa. All I know is, I'm deeply in love with Molly Weasley, Mrs. Paroo from the newest version of The Music Man, the Unsinkable Molly Brown from Titanic, and my third-grade friend Mary's mother.
7. Along the lines of the 'mold' idea...I have never truly decided what it is I want to be. I mean, the thing I MOST want to be is an actress...but I'm happy to do that in a community theatre setting, just so long as I still get to act. But as far as a career? Again, it's not that I can't find what I want to do...I just want to do so many things, I can't settle on one. I love teaching right now, but I still want to bartend. I want to run a bakery. I want to be a veterinary technician. I want to be a private nanny. I want to work as a receptionist. I've already waited tables, house managed a theatre, been a church secretary, and worked in a library. I want to do all those things again, too. Unfortunately, this is no way to make a living. Even MORE unfortunately...Scott is the same way. We're both happy to work any job (although I'm pickier than he is) and we can't settle on any one thing we want to do. However, I think if I could get a job teaching drama in a regular classroom...that'd probably make me happiest. Good thing that's what I went to school for.
8. I really and truly love the musical Cats. And I can't really and truly explain WHY, exactly. With Cats...you either love it, or you don't. If you love it, it's incredibly hard to put into words what's so special about it. But something about the show actually speaks to me, as hokey as that sounds, and the few times I've seen it live, I've been so excited that I've been on the edge of my seat bouncing up and down with tears in my eyes as soon as the overture began. It's an easy musical to make fun of because the fans can be so fanatic, and fanatics are always easy targets. But I will still defend it ever chance I get, even if my defense is simply "Shut up, it's my favorite show".
9. Along the same lines, I really love The Rocky Horror Show/The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It's not the same level of love, and honestly, I don't love it as much as I once did. But most people love RHPS for the spectacle of the live show, for the rice and the water guns and the shouting at the screen. That's fun, and I love it. But not as many people love the movie just for itself, and I really do.
10. For as long as I can remember, I've wanted children. I mean LITERALLY for as long as I can remember. I've been fascinated by babies and pregnancy since I was about 2. People tease me a lot about loving babies so much, and how I'm going to end up pregnant as soon as I'm married...but honestly, if it were just up to me, we really WOULD be having children immediately. It's not practical, no. We don't have the money. We should wait a few years and enjoy married life as a couple first. I know all of these things. People tell me these things constantly, and I always smile and agree with them and say that of course we're going to wait a couple of years. But the truth is, my whole greater purpose in life is to be a mother, and that's the one thing I've always, ALWAYS been sure of. Even when I doubt my abilities as an actress, or my intelligence, or my choices, or anything else that could possibly be doubted about my life and my reason for being here, I have never once doubted that I am supposed to be a mother.
Good grief, this is long. Screw writing 15 things. 10 is enough. I'll make up for it by posting a poem. When I was 11, my poems were really great. I was the best poet in the class, and even had other kids begging me to help them with their poetry assignments. Unfortunately, my abilities as a poet never progressed beyond that of an 11 year old. But I do still dabble.
Simile
sometimes driving down the highway
i wonder where this poetry is
the kind that's supposedly inside me
in this so-called dramatic soul
and all that comes to me are similes
captured old cliches that ring
so prettily in my head
the way the mist twines through the landscape
like a woman's hair through a lover's fingers
or how the street lights shine on a lonely highway
like silver
or how the moon hits your eye
like a big pizza pie
(i never understood that one)
wherefore, romeo, do we relate by comparison?
why does one thing always have to be like some other thing?
i am sure there's some scientific sociological answer
but i don't care much for science
and wouldn't it be nice
to stand on your own
and be like nothing else?
1. When I was a little girl and my Granny passed away, my family once caught me standing alone in the middle of a field waving up at the sky. When asked what I was doing, my response was, "Oh, just waving to God and Granny". I also still remember talking to my Granny at the chain link fence in Kindergarten - I would ask God to go and get her for me, then I'd wait a minute, then I'd tell her all about my day. I can't really remember my Granny, but I remember this, and it's my proof that she was my best friend in the whole world. I still talk to her, sometimes, and I still think it's amazing that a woman I only knew for the first 3.5 years of my life has had such a profound impact on me. She is my biggest role model, although all I really have to aspire to are stories of her and a strong physical resemblance.
2. June Bugs are the only creatures I think I've ever been intentionally cruel to. I just hate them so much, and I always have. I would catch them eating our rose bushes and pull their legs and wings off. One flew in my hair while I was sleeping as a child; I'm pretty sure this had something to do with my immense hatred for them. The only other bugs I really, really can't stand are cicadas (locally called locust), and that's more terror than hatred.
3. Apparently there was an Amanda Phillips who got married on September 25th of last year. She also registered at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. This has apparently caused some confusion for some of our wedding guests...most notably my mother, who wondered why the heck we'd registered for beer mugs.
4. I was a dancer for 18 solid years of my life, from the age of 2 to the age of 20. I haven't really danced, other than the occasional number in a musical, since I was 20. On Monday, I will become a ballet teacher for three different ballet classes, ages 3-4. Somehow, even with 18 years of ballet behind me, that 5 year gap has made me utterly terrified of this new development.
5. I really think that everyone has more diverse interests than we give them credit for, and that you can't tell what people like and dislike just by what "type" they fit. However, I also really and truly believe that I have more diverse interests than anyone else I have ever met. I spent a few unhappy months of my life trying to figure out exactly what mold I best belonged in, and I only ended up frustrated. I think there are plenty of people who just don't fit a mold...my problem is I fit so MANY molds. I finally decided to say 'screw it' and now I choose to step into whatever mold I like best at the time. Hence the title of this blog.
6. I have an inexplicable attraction to plump, redheaded women. I really don't know quite where this started. This is not to say that I have the hots for every plump redhead in the world; actually, I would classify myself as at least 95% straight, but I think anyone who thinks they are 100% straight is in complete denial. However, of the women that I am/have been attracted to, whether in real life or on the screen, nearly ALL of them have been plump redheads. I also have a desire to BE a plump, middle-aged redhead. I'm not really sure if the desire to be one fuels my attraction to them, or if it's vice-versa. All I know is, I'm deeply in love with Molly Weasley, Mrs. Paroo from the newest version of The Music Man, the Unsinkable Molly Brown from Titanic, and my third-grade friend Mary's mother.
7. Along the lines of the 'mold' idea...I have never truly decided what it is I want to be. I mean, the thing I MOST want to be is an actress...but I'm happy to do that in a community theatre setting, just so long as I still get to act. But as far as a career? Again, it's not that I can't find what I want to do...I just want to do so many things, I can't settle on one. I love teaching right now, but I still want to bartend. I want to run a bakery. I want to be a veterinary technician. I want to be a private nanny. I want to work as a receptionist. I've already waited tables, house managed a theatre, been a church secretary, and worked in a library. I want to do all those things again, too. Unfortunately, this is no way to make a living. Even MORE unfortunately...Scott is the same way. We're both happy to work any job (although I'm pickier than he is) and we can't settle on any one thing we want to do. However, I think if I could get a job teaching drama in a regular classroom...that'd probably make me happiest. Good thing that's what I went to school for.
8. I really and truly love the musical Cats. And I can't really and truly explain WHY, exactly. With Cats...you either love it, or you don't. If you love it, it's incredibly hard to put into words what's so special about it. But something about the show actually speaks to me, as hokey as that sounds, and the few times I've seen it live, I've been so excited that I've been on the edge of my seat bouncing up and down with tears in my eyes as soon as the overture began. It's an easy musical to make fun of because the fans can be so fanatic, and fanatics are always easy targets. But I will still defend it ever chance I get, even if my defense is simply "Shut up, it's my favorite show".
9. Along the same lines, I really love The Rocky Horror Show/The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It's not the same level of love, and honestly, I don't love it as much as I once did. But most people love RHPS for the spectacle of the live show, for the rice and the water guns and the shouting at the screen. That's fun, and I love it. But not as many people love the movie just for itself, and I really do.
10. For as long as I can remember, I've wanted children. I mean LITERALLY for as long as I can remember. I've been fascinated by babies and pregnancy since I was about 2. People tease me a lot about loving babies so much, and how I'm going to end up pregnant as soon as I'm married...but honestly, if it were just up to me, we really WOULD be having children immediately. It's not practical, no. We don't have the money. We should wait a few years and enjoy married life as a couple first. I know all of these things. People tell me these things constantly, and I always smile and agree with them and say that of course we're going to wait a couple of years. But the truth is, my whole greater purpose in life is to be a mother, and that's the one thing I've always, ALWAYS been sure of. Even when I doubt my abilities as an actress, or my intelligence, or my choices, or anything else that could possibly be doubted about my life and my reason for being here, I have never once doubted that I am supposed to be a mother.
Good grief, this is long. Screw writing 15 things. 10 is enough. I'll make up for it by posting a poem. When I was 11, my poems were really great. I was the best poet in the class, and even had other kids begging me to help them with their poetry assignments. Unfortunately, my abilities as a poet never progressed beyond that of an 11 year old. But I do still dabble.
Simile
sometimes driving down the highway
i wonder where this poetry is
the kind that's supposedly inside me
in this so-called dramatic soul
and all that comes to me are similes
captured old cliches that ring
so prettily in my head
the way the mist twines through the landscape
like a woman's hair through a lover's fingers
or how the street lights shine on a lonely highway
like silver
or how the moon hits your eye
like a big pizza pie
(i never understood that one)
wherefore, romeo, do we relate by comparison?
why does one thing always have to be like some other thing?
i am sure there's some scientific sociological answer
but i don't care much for science
and wouldn't it be nice
to stand on your own
and be like nothing else?
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