Take a Knee

I grew up believing that people of color had all the same opportunities that I did. Black students who worked just as hard as I did could go to college. If they didn't take advantage of those opportunities, they were clearly just lazy. They could even get scholarships that I couldn’t, just because they were black! How fair is that?

Let’s rewind. First of all, I’m going to be frank: I did not work very hard. Ever. I was gifted in many, many ways, and I squandered just about every opportunity that was ever presented to me. I was the lazy one.

The difference was that I lived in a system designed to let me succeed anyway.

I was very fortunate that I had parents who could afford to not let my failures ruin my life.

I was the very definition of white privilege.

I was also very fortunate along the way to have invaluable friends of color who would patiently encourage me to see other views.  Friends who, when I would proudly proclaim, “But I don’t believe THAT, I believe THIS!” and consider myself so very open-minded, would gently remind me, “No. That’s still racism.” Thank you, friends. You know who you are.

So here’s what I think about this #takeaknee protest:

I see black athletes taking advantage of their positions as professional athletes to make a statement. They are using their God-given gifts to maybe, hopefully make a difference for those less fortunate than they are.

Fat, happy middle-class white people like me are bothered by this for a couple of reasons. First off, they’re bothered because veterans fought and died for their right to protest in such a manner.

EXACTLY.

For over 240 years, veterans of this country have fought to defend our country, our flag, and our constitution, which guarantees the right to free speech. THANK YOU.

American veterans fought for the right to protest peacefully, and that’s exactly what these young men of the NFL are doing. They are not spoiled. They are not entitled. They are not teaching black children that it is okay to disrespect the flag.  They are teaching black children that there are other, more peaceful ways to protest a broken system than standing in traffic, or looting stores, or shooting cops.

But white people who are bothered by such a “display” don’t think that NFL players should use their position as an athlete as a platform to protest.

If the players shouldn’t, who should? Who’s going to notice if a team of inner city teens protests in the same manner? Not EVERYONE. NFL players are taking a knee because they want EVERYBODY to see that they feel the system is failing people like them who maybe didn’t have the same opportunities that they did.

White people don’t like this because we don’t want to believe that maybe the system that treats us pretty good doesn’t treat everybody pretty good. That maybe there’s more we can do and should be doing as we strive to become a true nation of equality.

I know that, on my part, this was not a comfortable realization to come to.

But you know what? Change isn’t supposed to be comfortable. And neither are protests.

If a protest does not make someone uncomfortable, it’s not being done correctly.

Funny, You Don't Look Sick

I hear it so often.   "Well, you look great," they'll say, and it's true.  I don't look sick.  I have cancer, but I don't have the look people typically associate with cancer -- namely, I still have my hair.   Couple that with the fact I weathered my first round of chemo like a champ (I trained for and ran a 15k race while on chemo), people tend to forget I'm sick.   However, I'm presently on round three of chemo (plus two previous rounds of radiation), and it's taking its toll.

A friend of mine made a great comparison today:   It's like kids with autism.   When you see a child with Down Syndrome, you know it.    Many times, when you see a child with autism, you see a kid who looks like any other kid, except his brain's wired differently and maybe when you see him he's completely losing his stuff about something.   And judgy people walk by and think, "Man, what a brat" while this kid's screaming in the toy aisle at Target.*

When you look me, a colon cancer patient, here's what you don't see:

My hair is falling out.  I just happen to have a lot of it.   The clumps I clean out of the drain when I shower are alarming.

I get tired washing my hair.   Like, physically fatigued.  FROM WASHING MY HAIR.

I get winded walking to the mailbox.   Or across a large room.

I have zero appetite, which does nothing to help me keep my strength up.

I am either constipated or I have diarrhea.  There is no in between.   The constipation makes my tailbone hurt.   The diarrhea makes my anus hurt.   Both make me bleed.

I have Multiple Poop Syndrome.   That's actually a thing.  Look it up.  It means I poop several times a day.   So the aforementioned constipation or diarrhea?   ALL THE TIME.

You know that scene from "The Princess Bride,"  where the Six-Fingered Man tortures Westley and sucks a year from his life?   That's the best analogy I've found for how I feel pretty much all the time.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the compliments and the support.  I really, truly do, and for the most part, I'm good.  I'm tough.   I cope.  But when you ask me how I'm doing, I will reflexively respond, "I'm okay. How are you?"   Take it with a grain of salt.


*Please forgive my over-simplification of autism.  I know there's nothing simple about it.

Insert Butt Joke Here

Okay, guys, my mom said, “Don’t put that on Facebook!”  but since I’ve been bombarding you for weeks with all my intestinal TMI, I feel like I owe you the explanation.   I, for one, really hate vague Facebook statuses like the ones I posted yesterday that are all like, “If you’re really important to me, you know what I’m talking about.”   And then you torture yourself with how nosy you want to be to seem like you care.   Or maybe I’m the only one who does that.  Anyway, you’re all important to me, so here it is:

My hot date with Dr. Butt yesterday did not got as expected; he found what is listed on my release paperwork as a “malignant completely obstructing tumor in the descending colon.”  Long story short:  I have cancer.  Probably.  Pathology results will confirm.

He seems to think that we caught it early enough that simply its removal will make me well.  Here’s hoping.   I will be meeting with my surgeon Thursday to schedule said removal.  Hopefully, it will be soon.

I’m in good spirits, but I’m on a liquid diet, so please pray for or send positive thoughts to my family, as they will bear the brunt of my “I’m sorry for what I said when I was hungry” moments.   And keep the butt jokes coming.  They help.   Cancer sucks, so the only thing to do is to be completely irreverent about it.

My thoughts on the Les Miserables movie (Spoilers! Beware!)

I love Les Miserables.   Love, love, LOVE IT.  It has been my favorite musical since I was 16 years old.  I love the characters, I love the story, I love the music and the lyrics.   Long story short, this movie really couldn’t go wrong with me.

That doesn’t stop me from being critical.   Nothing does.   So here are some of the thoughts I had while watching the movie on Christmas Day – in no particular order.

(Look down.  Look down.  There’s spoilers there below.)

The idea of having the actors sing on set is really cool – in theory.   It allowed for some really great emotional performances.   In the end, I don’t think it ended up blending well with the orchestra, and I think it caused the actors to hold back a little vocally.   Nobody was as powerful as they could have been.  Nobody really let rip.   Except maybe Samantha Barks (Eponine), once.

Unfortunately, really great emotional performances were accompanied by snotty, drooly close-up shots.   My husband called it “follicle-cam,” though, to be honest, I was too distracted by everybody’s dental work to notice their follicles.

Some of the songs were performed out of order from the musical.  I actually liked the way that worked out.   “I Dreamed a Dream” was so powerful, and it will be just plain wrong if Anne Hathaway doesn’t get an Oscar nomination for her performance as Fantine.  Seriously, wow.   And I’m not particularly a fan of Hathaway.

Hugh Jackman deserves an Oscar nomination just for being able to sing the entire opening sequence around those nasty, 19-years-without-a-toothbrush false teeth.

Colm Wilkinson (who originated the role of Jean Valjean in London and on Broadway) as the Bishop of Digne was just beautiful.  That man’s voice can tear me up in any incarnation.   It was fitting that he be part of this movie.

The plot was altered a bit from the musical, which made it more true to Hugo’s novel.  The downside to this was that Eponine’s role was slightly smaller than it is in the musical.   Gavroche’s  was slightly larger.   The student insurgents were a little bland.  I can remember being so affected by the passion in the voice of David Burt as Enjolras on the Original London Cast Recording.   Not so, here.   Admittedly, I left for  a bathroom break (thanks to a 32 oz Cherry Coke)  just as the opening bars of “Do You Hear the People Sing” began.   My husband assures me that scene was very cool.

Any duet or ensemble scene with Russell Crowe (Javert) had me singing in my head,  Sesame Street style,   “One of these actors is out of his comfort zone.  Come on, can you tell which one?”

Russell Crowe is in a band?  People pay money to hear him sing?   Hugh Jackman (a stage veteran, to be fair) sang and acted circles around Crowe, though Valjean’s songs were a bit rangy for even Jackman’s vocal talent (Hugh, I love you, but "Bring Him Home" should have been dubbed.)

The Thenardiers couldn’t have been better cast.   Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter were perfect (and again, I’m not especially fond of either).

The kids were fantastic.   They could do a whole movie about Gavroche and I’d watch it.

Mercifully, the song “Turning” was trimmed to just the first poignant verse, though given recent events, the lyrics, “Did you see them lying where they died?  Someone used to cradle them and kiss them when they cried.  Did you see them, lying side by side?” really hit me.

Javert pinning his medal on Gavroche’s dead body was totally unnecessary and, more than that,  out of character.  I imagine they were trying to show how Valjean’s mercy was starting to get to the unyielding lawman, but as a nearly lifelong fan of Javert, I truly don’t believe he could have forgiven an insurgent, even a child.

While I was a little disappointed in the absence of Eponine’s ghost and harmonies from the finale, the way Valjean’s death was portrayed was heartbreakingly beautiful.  Unless you're made of stone, bring Kleenex.

Musical performances aside, I loved the way the movie made me feel.   It was gritty, without being graphic.   I was truly seeing “les miserables” of 19^th century France – dirty, crowded streets; disgusting sewers; starving poor with sunken eyes and sore-ridden skin.   I loved the unfortunately realistic glimpse of human nature, too, as the people of France rallied behind the insurgents, only to leave them hanging out to dry when the moment of truth came.  People love to vocalize about a cause.   It’s taking action that’s the hard part, and too many people would just rather stay inside and close their windows when it gets too hard.

Have you seen the movie?   Tell me what YOU think!

Crossing the Line

I have a pretty good sense of humor, especially about being a nerd.   I'll admit, I'm not above poking fun at other nerds, either.   Case in point, while sitting at breakfast in my hotel's lobby before going to Star Wars Celebration VI, and after hearing several conversations around me, I posted to Facebook that I suspected I was not actually nerdy enough to be attending the convention.   The fact remains, however, that I did attend the convention.  In fact, I had a great time at Star Wars Celebration VI.

In middle school and high school I was bullied.   A lot.  And I confess that I have said unkind things to others in the past.   I'm not proud of it, and to this day I still feel guilty, even for stupid things I said and did in elementary school (Tiffany and Jason, I am so sorry!).

That said, I generally take teasing with a grain of salt.  Someone makes fun of you, you cope.  If it's genuinely funny, you laugh.

William Shatner calling out the Trekkies on SNL?   I'm a fan of Star Trek, but that sketch was funny.

Triumph, the Insult Comic Dog, interviewing Star Wars fan in line for Episode I tickets?  I'm a huge Star Wars fan, and that segment was hilarious.

This?  I didn't find especially funny.
"What the Force??? Most bizarre Star Wars convention sightings.

One expects irreverence from SNL and Triumph.  But several websites for news stations posted the "What the Force???" slideshow -- not in the opinions and editorials section, but as a link from their main page.

Countless members of the 501st Legion -- people from all walks of life who create and wear movie-quality Star Wars costumes and raise millions of dollars for charities annually -- felt the slideshow was derogatory and certainly did not belong on a news network's website.  Some even called it cyberbullying.

Members of the 501st sent emails to the news networks.  One by one, the slideshow was removed from the news sites, accompanied by responses of apology.  Most of them.   A news station out of Miami, Local 10, has not only informed disgruntled 501st-ers that they "have better things to do," they have reposted the slide show, first (briefly) with the 501st Legion logo, and then on their Facebook page as a link from a photo captioned, "NEED YOUR THOUGHTS!  Posted this Star Wars convention slideshow a few days ago, seems to have caught on today.  Some people are upset.  WHAT DO YOU THINK????"

Juvenile?  I certainly think so.

I admit, if I found the photo captions on the slideshow even remotely funny, I might tell the stormtroopers of "Vader's Fist" to get over it and learn to take a joke.  Honestly, though, I found the captions to be insulting and inappropriate.   I don't feel like I'm taking anything too personally, though maybe I am.   I just thought it was tacky.

Basically, what bothers me is the news station is sending the message that it's okay to make fun of someone who has different interests than you as long as someone else gets a laugh out of it.   Here's the thing:  If someone's feelings are hurt by something you do, and you insist on continuing the behavior because you think it's funny?  That's being a bully.  Plain and simple.

Plus, someone went out of their way to go to Star Wars Celebreation VI and photograph people (people who, again, raise MILLIONS for charity with their costumes) just to make a few bucks off a mocking slideshow.  Tell me again just who it is that needs to get a life?

Summer Days, Drifting Away

It's August.   School has started in my county, and in the diocese in which I teach.  Once again, I find myself wondering where my summer went.

Here's where:

The threes are worse? Seriously?

We are in the throes of the "Terrible Twos" here.  Once again, I find myself at a complete loss, as an only child who has never really had much exposure to small children.  I keep trying to reassure myself that this stuff is normal and my son isn't really demon spawn.

I find myself fighting battles I don't want to fight, and having to put my foot down a lot harder than I really want, because I can't show weakness.  I can't let him think he can get his way by acting the way he does.   I know that somewhere in his little toddler brain it all makes sense somehow -- that really, the screaming will work this time.  That it's okay to not do the things Mommy says, or not wear shoes, or a jacket, or clothes at all.   That it's okay to kick or hit, even though every time it lands his little tantrummy butt in time out.

He's so sweet, and so smart, and his vocabulary is amazing, and if he could just use his words, everything would be fine.   Use the words before the meltdown and the time out and the hug and make up, and we would save so much time.  And sanity.

The other night, after telling the boy that I understood that he was upset and if he wanted to cry about it that was fine but he had to do it in his room because nobody else wanted to hear it, I walked back into the living room and exchanged exasperated looks with my husband.

"I hope we're not screwing up royally," I said to him.   "This is a developmental thing, right?  He'll get past this eventually?   Please tell me he's not going to grow up to be awful."

The best he could offer was, "I think so."