Month: June 2015

We Won, and I Don’t Want to Be A Sore Winner

I have always believed, despite all of the admonitions about not being a sore loser, that being a sore winner is usually more of a threat to someone’s spiritual and emotional health. At least for me, that’s always been the case. So, in light of Friday morning’s big development from the United States Supreme Court, I wanted to confess something that I have struggled with over the weekend, even though I am still overjoyed at the outcome.

I work with marketing technology for a living. (I will get into that aspect of things a bit later.) I generally make it a point to focus on work at work and home at home, but Friday morning was an exception to that self-imposed rule. I kept waiting for the various news alert e-mails to which I subscribe for both professional and personal use. Given the outcome of the 2013 marriage case, I expected a victory. Yet, when I saw that magical headline, it still blew me away. So, I texted my dear partner with whom I have shared my life in a committed relationship for five years and wrote in all caps, “WE WON!”

I tried my best to be productive the rest of the day, but honestly it was difficult to keep from staring off into space to ponder the magnitude of the momentous development and all of its implications, both real and symbolic. As I was leaving the office, I called my significant other at home, and we agreed that I would stop and get some beer at Kroger to celebrate. I somehow managed to drive right past the supermarket and toward our condo complex parking lot. Then, I realized my oversight and made my way to the over-priced convenience store nearby to avoid taking a left to get back onto Nolensville Road in rush-hour Nashville traffic.

Like many of Americans of all political stripes, we spent more time than we should that evening looking at our Facebook feeds. I posted several news items and affirming messages in celebration of marriage equality. When the many straight allies  in my circle of friends and family clicked like or posted a comment or changed their profile picture to a rainbow flag or a red equals sign, my heart warmed. However, the flip side, for which I am a bit ashamed, is that I spent a little too  much time wondering about the people in my life who didn’t click, comment, post, tag, or paint their Facebook feed with rainbows. They must not really love me as much as the other folks, right?

Okay, that’s a horrible, horrible way of thinking! I countered those thoughts with logic and reason. Yet, I think part of the challenge is that, in my particular job, I focus a great deal on metrics along the lines of e-mail opens; clicks; undeliverables; unsubscribes; and SPAM complaints, Web site page views, and drip campaign conversions of prospects becoming customers. I never set out to work in the tech area, but I loved the book business, and the greatest needs my employer had of me started to involve the electronic realm, and I had grown fond of the whole shelter, food, and clothing habit the older I got. As new gadgets came along, it’s not that I was a computer nerd by any stretch of the imagination, but I became acquainted with them because that’s where things were headed.

So, by early Saturday morning, I had conditioned myself like Pavlov’s dogs that I remember first learning about in psychology 101. Those pro-gay reactions were giving me such a rush. I was very grateful to everyone, and I remain so a day later. Yet, I must confess that instead of humble gratitude, I fell into the habit of craving “more, more, more!” as Billy Idol sang about in the eighties rock anthem “Rebel Yell.” (I have to add Gen X pop culture references when I can.) When I would allow myself to peek at the Facebook timelines of friends who I knew feel differently on marriage equality, I momentarily even let myself fall into the trap of  red-hot anger. And, somehow, a part of me got almost as angry at the allies who weren’t patting me on the back. They must really not be all that proud and supportive after all.

I do not like the part of myself that felt those feelings  (however briefly), and I summoned up the confidence to be more balanced about the whole thing. I stepped out of myself, at my partner’s suggestion, and went to hear him perform with a group from our church at an area nursing home. (They do that once a month, and I don’t tag along as often as I should.) As I listened and watched the performance and thought more broadly about love and relationships, I realized that we were not in attendance at the Nashville Pride Festival that day. Could some of our fellow glbt community members interpret this as a slap in the face against our brothers and sisters? Maybe that could be viewed as not loving our own enough.

For several years, I attended Nashville Pride, the AIDS Walk, and similar events as part of gay religious and political groups with which I have been involved.  My partner has been part of a wonderful glbt and allies musical group in the past, but he had to take a break because of his schedule. We attend some glbt events and activities and are even meeting a dear friend of ours at one of the gay bars tonight. There is some wonderful work going on in the gay community of Nashville, and there are so many kind and decent people. (There are also a few shallow and superficial ones that we have grown better at ignoring; that’s true with any setting though.) Yet, when we became a couple, we agreed that we had more to offer and would be happier in the broader “middle” where we could build bridges by being ourselves and forming connections with people. We are okay with those many situations when we are the only (openly at least) gay couple in the room, though it’s also great to check in with our tribe from time to time.

So, like Sheriff Andy Taylor in one of the black and white “Andy Griffith Show” episodes, I admitted to myself that I deserved to dine on crow while the rest of friends and family were eating something more appetizing. Upon helpful reflection, I realize that we are all just trying to make our way on the journey as best we can. Not all straight people  or gay people can relate to where I find myself. I am one of those hopeless moderates, which can have the effect of simultaneously pissing off both sides at times. I don’t have all the answers and need to remind myself of that. I am not always the most touchy-feely kind of guy as far as hugs and such, but ultimately, it should be about love and respect for others. So, maybe I can just relax and breathe deeply when I find myself looking for a validation electronically.

Well, thanks to you for reading this confessional. I am grateful when folks support me, but it’s important to not make that pat on the back into an addictive drug. And, as far as others, I need to do my best to refrain from judging. Granted, I may not be there yet when it comes to Mike Huckabee and Ted Cruz. Yet, I can try at least. Love Wins!

(This little housekeeping matter: Those of you who leave comments may have issues. I am going to get this checked out when I have a chance. In the meantime, visit the Contact Me page if you need to reach me. )

US Supreme Court with Rainbow Columns

Three Southern Novelists I Would Like More People to Discover

childresscover

July 14th will mark a huge day in the literary world. Go Set a Watchman, the long-lost sequel/prequel to Harper Lee’s classic To Kill a Mockingbird makes its way to bookstores, libraries, and digital gadgets. This leaves a few more weeks of summer heat–or perhaps nicely chilled indoor air–for readers with an interest in Southern fiction to try to get their fix before the big release date.

I lack the time, energy, and expertise to offer a definitive list of all the great Southern writers. I know that there are many different visions of the South, and I can’t begin to paint everything with a broad brush. So, here are just a few novelists that tackle Southern life in their works. All three have certainly found an audience of readers, and their accomplishments are noteworthy. Yet, there is a part of me that feels compelled to become an evangelist pushing a broader audience toward their books.

Mark Childress

Though he now lives on Key West Florida, Childress hails from Lee’s hometown of Monroeville, Alabama. He is probably best known for Crazy in Alabama, which became a 1999 film directed by Antonio Banderas and Melanie Griffith. The plot intertwines a woman’s bizarre journey to Hollywood after killing her abusive husband with a town’s painful struggle over the issue of race involving a public swimming pool.

Crazy is probably a natural starting point for most readers, but if someone is looking for something a bit more edgy from Childress, I would highly recommend either Georgia Bottoms or One Mississippi. Georgia centers on a young woman (the book’s title character) who maintains a dual identity of respectable small-town citizen by day and discreet practitioner of the world’s oldest profession by night. A series of sordid developments involving both a hypocritical young minister and revelations from Georgia’s past unravels the delicate balance. Mississippi, set in the 1970’s, explores a powder-keg of issues ranging from racial and sexual identity to teen angst and violence. (I realize that I seem vague here; I just can’t begin to offer an adequate summary to a book with so many different threads that tie together so perfectly.)

Clyde Edgerton

Edgerton lives and teaches in Wilmington, North Carolina; he has won tremendous acclaim in highbrow Southern literary circles over the decades and often generates comparisons to Flannery O’Connor and Eudora Welty. Yet, I have always wished that he could develop a greater following among general readers in the mainstream. He has an understated style of storytelling, but he creates some memorably colorful characters.

I especially enjoy Edgerton’s Raney, which chronicles the often contentious early years of marriage between a down-to-earth young woman from a rural town steeped in evangelical religion and a college librarian, a man shaped by a childhood in the more worldly environment of the urban South. I also recommend Lunch at the Piccadilly, which details the misadventures of a group of lively nursing home residents seeking relief from their restrictive residence.

Michael Lee West

West grew up in the Gulf Coast region but eventually made her way to Middle Tennessee, where she now lives. As a result, she moves back and forth between these two very distinct areas in providing settings for her delightful novels. The literary territory of “magnolias of steel” females from south of the Mason-Dixon line certainly has inspired a host of highly successful authors over the years, but I think West’s gift for storytelling and her strong sense of place make her worthy of joining the biggest names in this realm of Southern fiction.

I would suggest starting with Crazy Ladies, which recounts the trials and tribulations of multiple generations of women from a Volunteer State family. The action spans a variety of eras and settings, as very distinct personalities and worldviews come into play. For a taste of Bayou cuisine and culture, I would single out  She Flew the Coop: A Novel Concerning Life, Death, Sex and Recipes in Limoges, Louisiana, which lives up to its titillating title.

Stay cool and Happy Reading!