In My Life...I've Loved Them All

I’m feeling old these days.

Some of this comes from the fact that I AM old. My body is on the back end of this run called life. I get that. I’m really, really fine with that, as well. A perfect end awaits. As my beloved wife told me once, “I’m not afraid of dying; I’m afraid of the time between right now and when I die.”

Exactly.

Part of this “oldness” stems from the incredible changes in society, though. Growing up, everybody in my world looked like me. Now, I've gone from "White" to "Anglo;" I've gone from "Normal" to "Straight."

Life in the Silent P is intense. Problems I never imagined 20 years ago (let alone understood) are being met with honesty, creativity, and improved communication. We've worked on that at the Henley Hacienda, as well. Here is the first thing you notice when walking into our house these days:

Our lives seem to be a microcosm of this suddenly brave new world. Case in point: January 17, 2013--the day before I left for trips to Washington, DC and Atlanta.

What follows is one day’s activity—in fact, you could constrain this to a time period between about 3:30 and 8 p.m. During the whirlwind of activity, it was just handling a typical day. Only in retrospect do I notice how different things have become in our lives over the past decade.

·       One child approached me, looking for advice (or at least vindication) on how she dealt with a friend who has begun to self-mutilate…and the other friend who joined her. The first instance came from a bisexual Hispanic girl, the second came from a straight Anglo (!) girl. For now, all are fine. The real issues are being addressed for perhaps the first time.

·       Another child took a MOCK test in reading, in preparation for the actual tests in the coming months. Kids are adapting to the adult world's testing mania. Everybody seemed to take that one in stride...except the education community that is getting punished from all sides.

·       A child went to hang out with a serious boyfriend, who’s Salvadoran (DON’T call him Mexican). Later, she needed to return clothes to a friend who is half Indian and half Mexican.

·       My wife came home with the flu and a fibromyalgia flare (did we have that back then?). She is the “Testing Coordinator” at her elementary school, where they were also taking “practice” standardized tests. 

·       During the fake test at this woman’s school, there was a “reverse evacuation” situation. A burglary got interrupted, and the “perpetrator” was at large in the general vicinity.

·       Her head principal feels comfortable about how things went. He is Hispanic, gay, and married. He also happens to be a really, really good educator for one of the poorest schools in the five-county area. It’s a bilingual school, which necessitates tests in both English and Spanish.

·       I had to pick up my child from the home of a half-Asian, half-Anglo (!) family. When we got home, he proceeded to fire up his XBOX, connect virtually to the same friend, and then kill zombies with him as a team. My understanding is that these are World War II battles that include zombies.

·       I inquired about the half Mexican/half Anglo (!) girl that spent the weekend with us because her Asian stepmother couldn’t stand her anymore. We were blessed to provide them all a needed break. Things have returned to what is their “normal,” and they are working things out as best they can.

·       My neighbor down the street used to live in a culvert. She now lives in a house with her father. They have no water, but they do alright. I had to help her find out how to enroll her son in school. Her son was sent to her because the father couldn’t stand it anymore.

·       Oh, and this woman’s son is half black/half Anglo (!)--similar to the President of the United States, whose SECOND inauguration I attended, upon the invitation of my new Hispanic congressman.

So many barriers to love…falling daily. Nobody’s ignoring problems; they’re dealing with issues.

I look at the youth and young adults of this country (and this world), and I find myself mesmerized with their bravery, their sense ofsocial justice, their ability to cut through the crap to what is real…and then find entertainment in the crap, itself. My generation watched crappy television and called it good. This generation watches crappy television and calls it crap.

Despite what I’m hearing from people older than me, I think the future of this planet is a bright one. Big issues that my generation ignored will be handled, and we will accept the consequences on the promise that America and Earth will be better for our great-grandchildren.

Nobody in my world used to talk of a happy future. Now, this generation allows me to dream a little about a time when I won’t be around. There is hope that the best days are coming, whether I’m here or not.

Throughout my childhood and most of my adult life, the future looked bleak. Now, things seem to be improving with the outlook of the American people. I see potential. I see possibility.

I’d like to think that people like me will have something to do with that.