Five Years

February 15, 2018.  Five years.  FIVE YEARS.  It’s been five years today since the first arrest and I gained two small children.

I was by no means prepared mentally, emotionally, or physically.  I was anemic and sick, and devastated by the nightmare we were facing as a family.  I was terrified by the possibilities, and five years later, I still am.

Tillamook for Love!

Ah, small town life.  I live in a town where, if your house catches fire, a loved one dies, or you have a flood (which is common here), people will flock to your side with offers to help.  Maybe it's because our little community is geographically isolated.   We have the Pacific ocean on one side, and steep mountain passes and treacherous roads on all three other sides, which are prone to downed trees and landslides.  We have learned to take care of our own here, and we pride ourselves on it.  For several decades, our local high school has done a week-long charity drive that raises huge amounts and has received national attention.  I'm proud of our neighborly spirit and resilience.

We also have a darker side.  Our community, like so many other Oregon communities, was a Ku Klux Klan stronghold and a "Sundown Town," one that enacted a local ordinance requiring all black people to be out of town by sundown... or else.  It's been well-known that Tillamook isn't the safest place to be different, i.e. black, Hispanic, non-English speaking, LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender), Athiest, or other non-Christian, just to name a few.

Many intolerant attitudes remain, and I'm not so proud of that.  In 1996, a black student ended up leaving Tillamook after having hate speech scrawled across their locker and being otherwise harassed.  Other local high school students were outraged, and created a county-wide declaration and held a march in support of the student.  Still, things are slow to change.

For the last few years, I have been involved with the Rural Organizing Project, a statewide organizations that works in small rural communities to stand up for civil and human rights.  About two years ago, I began coordinating an LGBT and Allies monthly social, to bring people together to create a community where all felt safe.  It quickly became apparent to me that Tillamook is a very closeted community, still shrouded in fear and the kind of misinformation that supports oppression.  I have long dreamed of a gay-straight alliance being formed at our local high school.  We need to do far more than practice tolerance; we need to actively support all members of our community.  Every kid has a basic right to a safe educational atmosphere, free from harassment and bullying.  I have been on this soapbox for some time, and trying to find ways to build that support and create an active local voice for equality.  But it's hard when people don't feel safe being who they are.  

Something happened on Tuesday, May 19th, which was a game-changer in my sleepy little town, and it started with one teenage girl.  

For months, two local men have basically terrorized downtown Tillamook.  They are aspiring street preachers, whose method of preaching includes screaming abusive and hateful things at passers-by, yelling that people are going to hell, and calling young girls and women whores (like a teenager who had just left dance class with her parent).  People had tried to reason with them, only to be screamed at abusively.  Local businesses, who need all the business they can get in our depressed rural economy, have been none too happy at having potential customers driven away outside their doors.  It came to a point that people largely ignored them, out of disgust and embarrassment.  Until Tuesday.

They began their usual diatribe on the sidewalk, by the parking lot of an eye clinic and a dance studio full of children.  This time, their focus was on homosexuality.  They were yelling about gay sex, and one was holding a sign that read, "homo sex is a sin."  Makaila Ragan, a local high school junior, heard them outside her mother's place of work, and decided enough was enough.  With her mother's permission, Makaila made her own sign, which said, "I <3 Gays."  She bravely walked out to the sidewalk and stood silently next to the two men, holding her sign.  She endured being yelled at and verbally abused.  Her mother was also verbally abused.  Horrible, hateful things were said, but Makaila stood her ground and did not return hateful words.

Within minutes, she was joined by one of her friends from the high school, then another, then a crowd began to grow, and stood surrounding the two men, while holding signs about love and tolerance.  I heard about the protest at my office right after a few of her friends had shown up and got a picture:

Makaila and a few friends about 5pm.

The crowd eventually spilled across the street to take up two street corners, while others drove by honking and shouting their support.  Makaila and her friends vowed to stay on the corner until the two men left, and that's what they did.  She stood on the corner with her sign from 4pm to 10:30pm that night, until they left.  Here's a picture from  8:45pm:

 

In a small town like Tillamook, we like to joke that if you do something, everyone in the county will know by the end of the day.  While gossip can be annoying, in this case it was a blessing.  More than one pastor came down to the corner to lend support to the group.  Local business owners thanked them for doing something about what had become a big problem.  Parents and loved ones of LGBT people came down to express thanks and support.  A Facebook group (Tillamook for Love) was created that night, that now has over 3,000 members from all over the globe.  Local papers picked up the story about the petite, brave young woman who handled two bullies with class and wisdom.   Her story has now been told in several national publications, as well as international publications, such as London's Daily Globe.  

There have been follow up rallies, as well as planning meetings, by the cohesive and committed group of people who wish to change community norms.  Our rally on May 23rd had over 75 people, some who had traveled from other areas, and a pastor and followers from a local church.   Not everyone supports us, but more people do than we expected.  

It has created a heated conversation in our small town, mostly around the line between free speech and hate speech.   My focus is on two other issues: One is the difference one person can make, with a simple action.  The other is the fact that there are many more caring, open-minded, non-judgmental people in Tillamook than any of us previously realized.  And now we have found one another and will make things happen.  We know who our allies are, there is a multitude of us, we are organizing, and we aren't going to back down!

We aren't going to put up with abuse, especially when it targets one group of people, often children, who are picked on already.  We are going to be meeting, holding conversations, planning, coordinating, and backing each other up to speak out when we see hate in our community.  Visitors come to our town, to enjoy the gorgeous coastal scenery and try the famous Tillamook dairy products.  Instead of being greeted by two men screaming foul and vicious things "in the name of God," they will be met with tolerance and kindness.  And our kids (speaking of God, God bless 'em) are creating their own culture at the high school.  They are organizing, gathering together, and supporting each other.  We adults have a moral obligation to support them in creating a safe community.  We can all be deeply proud of these young people, who are completely committed to love and kindness, when it would be so easy to respond with anger and vitriol.

Statistics show that one in three teen suicides is an LGBT youth.  There's something wrong in our society when someone is bullied to death, or wishes to die because someone has made them feel so wrong about being who they are.  We want our kids to stop bullies, and apparently we have taught them well.  They have banded together to stop adult bullies in the streets of our town.  They have even formed what I like to call a response team to show up with signs, using the Facebook group to alert when the men are spotted.

A friend of mine referred to Makaila's actions as a "Rosa Parks moment." I guess my point in writing this is that these "Rosa Parks moments" don't happen in a vacuum.  Her friends showed up, the community showed up, in my native town where I would have been less surprised if folks had thrown tomatoes at her.   I grew up and went to high school here and saw the deeply ingrained racism and homophobia.  I know many people who left this town for those very reasons.  I can't be the only person giggling at the irony of Tillamook being hailed as a place of tolerance.  At the same time I'm giddy with the potential for change, and I can feel the change in the air.  

Of course a Rosa Parks moment, while beautiful, doesn't excuse us from maintaining action.  If anything, it's a call to action.  There will be resistance,  and tough choices.  One young friend of mine has lost his job for participating in Tillamook for Love, on his own time.  There is still intolerance, and a solid need to remain steadfast in our common mission, which is create a safer and more loving community.

Our youth are ready to take this on.  Are we ready to stand alongside them?

Each one of us has a circle of influence, whether it is our church, our friends, our workplace, online, or any other place we have a presence.  Come join the group, be part of the conversation, and part of positive change.  We have a responsibility to not let these young people down, as well as their children and grandchildren.  What a golden opportunity!   If it can happen in this little dairy town, it can happen anywhere.  Let's make it happen! 

Check out the Facebook group: Tillamook for Love!

A Family Disease

My precious daughter has a crippling illness that could very well kill her.  It is progressive, and creates chemical changes in the brain and affects behavior.  It has destroyed her ability to parent her children, or have healthy relationships with the people who love her the most.  It has alienated her from loved ones, landed her in jail repeatedly, and pretty much destroyed her decision-making process.  It is destroying her from the inside out, and all we can do is watch this train wreck helplessly.

This disease is called addiction.  It kills countless people each year, yet it's one of the few diseases that carries a personal stigma against the sufferer.  People feel comfortable calling people with addiction horrible names, such as tweaker, doper, loser, piece of shit, and many other hurtful things.  I have even been attacked, as her mother, as it must have somehow been my fault that my daughter has this "flaw."

I'm guessing that nearly every parent of an addict has spent dark hours questioning where it all went wrong, examining every parenting mistake, every slip from perfection that may have caused hell on earth for their child.  It's confusing to vacillate between grief, hope, anger, fear, shock, guilt, worry, resignation, and many other emotions toward that person, often within the same day.  It's hard to look back through old photos and try to pinpoint something that maybe I missed, some clue I should have seen.  It's a very efficient way to slowly go crazy, yet I still catch myself doing it.

I heard a quote on a page called, "I Hate Heroin" on Facebook that said, "You didn't cause it, you can't cure it, and you can't control it."  This has helped some but there's still that "mom guilt," the worst guilt of all.  Defying all logic, a part of me continues to question what I did wrong.

Like any other disease, no loved one wants to "give up" on the sufferer.  We all love our family members, especially our children, and want to help them.  It's a very hard road to find that fine line between helping and enabling; I'm still looking.  What if the one time I turn my back was the one time she would have been ready to get help?  What if I shut down contact and something horrible happens to her?  Addiction doesn't just affect the person who has it; it's an equal opportunity destroyer.  It affects entire families, workplaces, communities.  Everyone who cares about the person is destroyed on some level, and it has changed me irrevocably. 

It's hard when I'm on Facebook, and see memes and photos and jokes poking fun at people with addictions.  I just can't see any humor in kicking people when they are down.  Everyone of them makes me think of my daughter.  The same people who think it's hilarious to put up pictures of "tweakers" wouldn't even think of posting jokes and pictures ridiculing those with other illnesses, such as heart disease or cancer.  I know her children will grow up hearing her called horrible names and ridiculed by society.  It's hard to know how to prepare them for this.  I can no longer see those "funny" pictures without wondering who that person was before their life was destroyed, and if someone out there is hurt that their loved one's illness is being exploited for cheap laughs, or if anyone cares about them at all.

I feel the same way about the "People of Wal-Mart" pictures and other pictures who make fun of strangers in a mean way.  How much intelligence and class does it take to kick someone when they're down?  I don't know that person's story, whether it involves poverty or mental illness, or why they are dressed the way they are, but it's none of my business.  How is this any different from the playground bullies who gather around to taunt others for their clothing and appearance?  Can't we adults do better than that?

I KNOW who my daughter was, and is.  She's a younger sister to two loving and protective brothers, and a kid sister to all of their friends.  As a child, she was one of the most sweet and loving children I have ever met, and she still is one of the sweetest people I know.  She loved everyone, and everyone loved her back.  She was bubbly and funny and kind.  She liked to sing, and had an adventurous tomboy spirit.  She once had a dream of joining the coast guard and doing water rescues and saving lives.  She still has a goofy and hilarious sense of humor, plays guitar, and loves to do outdoorsy things.  She is an easy person to talk to, and someone her friends would often go to for advice, because she was always level-headed, empathetic, and wise.  I raised her to be loyal, and she is; unfortunately, her loyalties are to people who don't deserve it, rather than to herself. 

Last year, her mug shot was posted online, on a Facebook page that seems to exist for the purpose of giving unhappy people someone else to ridicule and hurt.  As if it hadn't been bad enough watching this disease ravage my girl, worse yet was watching people post cruel, mocking comments on her photo as if she were some circus sideshow.  It was horribly painful, and I don't wish it on any parent.  Those people didn't know her, so it was easy to pick on her in her defenseless state.  Yeah, she's not a little girl anymore, and I can't shield and protect her, but that doesn't justify her being persecuted.  Her life is hard enough already, dammit.  Some of her friends saw it, and deluged the site with comments in her defense.  Tears streamed down my face, as I read the beautiful things that were said about her.  They will never know how much that meant to me.

But what about those other people, those who don't have anyone?  Are they worth any less?  Why do we have to be so unkind, just because it's a stranger?  Maybe you don't know that person who's in the People of Wal-Mart line-up, or in that mug shot.  Maybe it makes you feel better not to know.  But what if you did?  Would you still post it?  If you are ridiculing someone with a disease, what does that say about you? 

I'm not doing it to "out" her, or to evoke sympathy.  Our entire family has been devastated by her disease for over two years, and kept fairly quiet online, for the sake of her feelings.  But it's not just about her at this point.  It's a family disease.  I don't feel I'm doing her any favors to tiptoe around this, when I feel her life is on the line.  I'm writing this in the hopes it will help others to understand.  I also hope that someday she will look back and read it and know how very much I love her, and I DO understand.  With one out of twelve people in our society suffering from this disease, I know our family is not alone.  There's a lot of us walking wounded out here.

Just like mental illness, addiction is seen in our society as a character flaw.  There are genetic components to addiction, just as there are to eye and hair color, and diseases such as cancer and heart disease.  In 50% of people with addiction, genetics plays a role.  Some people can dabble in a substance and walk away; my daughter apparently couldn't.  I've been trying to learn and understand the very complex facets of addiction, the physiological effects on the brain and body, and the chemical changes that take place in the brain that make a loving, warm person walk away from those she loves.  And then the hardest part: applying t hose facts, not to some nameless statistic, but to my daughter.  Here's some myth dispelling for starters:

www.psychologytoday.com/blog/where-science-meets-the-steps/201305/5-myths-about-addiction-undermine-recovery

Numerous studies show unequivocally that shaming people does not result in lasting, positive behavior change.  So calling addicts weak, worthless, losers, etc., isn't going to give them the impetus they need to turn their lives around; it's only going to affirm what they believe about themselves to begin with, perpetuating cycles of self-destructive behavior.  There's no "magic bullet" for addiction, but there is plenty of evidence to show that punishing people doesn't help.  Rehabilitation can be very effective, if they are ready to take that step.  Certainly calling someone horrible names is not a proven or effective method to help someone get straight.  For that matter, even the word "addict" is a label and can hurt.  A person is more than their addiction; it's like calling someone in a wheelchair a "cripple."  Words can hurt.

I don't know what my daughter's future holds; everyone is different, but I will never give up hope.  I plan to remind her at every opportunity that her family loves her and we are here for her.  When she is ready to combat this beast, she won't be alone.  Even in moments of deepest grief, I believe with all my heart that eventually she will find recovery and create a healthy life.  So do the other people who really know her.  I will not allow myself to lose sight of her real self, and I see glimpses of it in our sporadic conversations, and in pictures and moments, and I hold on tight to those.

But for the sake of every addicted person out there, and their families, let's please all be kind.  Remember that person who looks terrible, whose picture you posted on your Facebook page, who everyone laughed about and said things like, "gross," and "what a loser," etc., is another human being less fortunate than you.  Consider that they may have no knowledge of, or did not consent to, that picture being online at all.  Think of some of the lowest points in your own life, and ask yourself how you'd feel if they were exploited as online entertainment.  A little empathy goes a long way.

Let Freedom Ring!!

Wedding bells are ringing!  Since Oregon overturned the same sex marriage ban last month, two couples I know have set wedding plans.  Last Saturday, in a lovely intimate setting in a beautiful wooded garden area, my friends stood before friends and family and pledged their ongoing love and commitment.

These two women have been together for 27 years, so I had to stifle a giggle when the minister mentioned the enormous commitment it takes to enter into a marriage.  I’m pretty sure they’ve had some time to think it through.  The wedding was beautiful, with a sing-along, accompanied by guitar and recorder, and even a kazoo (you had to be there!).  Even some tinkling wind chimes in a nearby tree contributed as if on cue.  It was magical.

 

As I sat listening to their vows, watching their glowing faces, I thought of the struggles that people have had throughout American history with such issues, back to the time when only white, male, landowners were allowed to vote. 

The same people who would deny these two women the right to marry appear to have the same mindset (and arguments) as the group that opposed interracial marriage in this country back before the 1967 Supreme Court decision lifting that ban.  The same people who would be horrified at the idea of arranged marriages often seem to have no qualms about thinking that two consenting adults in this country can’t make their own decision about marrying one another. How stupid this same-sex marriage ban will look to future generations!  The “fabric of society” will not be compromised one tiny bit by same-sex marriage any more than it was by abolition of slavery, blacks and women voting, or interracial marriage.  I even feel silly pointing that out.  For some people, progress provokes great and unreasonable fear.

So these were my thoughts as I sat there, and I got a little irritated with myself for focusing out on this and not just enjoying this beautiful, historical moment.  Here I was, a part of something sacred, a moment to savor and celebrate!  Here was a reminder of all that is right in this world, and that’s why I feel that in some ways, the world is getting better, not worse as some would believe. 

It’s taken huge sacrifice, and many people have put jobs, reputations, even lives on the line for the right to marry who they want, and here I was watching this huge victory, in a way a culmination of all that struggle.  I’m honored to be a witness to this, and grateful for all the people who spoke out, knowing laws don’t change unless people MAKE them change.  The tipping point seems to take place when people run out of justifications for their bigotry.  It also makes a difference when it affects your neighbors, your friends, your family members, someone you care about.  The scales of justice have finally tipped in the right direction, and it’s a sweet, long-deserved victory.

What hurts one of us ultimately hurts us all, and I’m committed to helping to create a world where people aren’t being hurt.  It’s a tall order, but one step at a time, things are getting better.  By taking a stand, win or lose, we can embolden people to safely be themselves, knowing there are people who have their back.

My friends who married last Saturday have spent decades in the trenches, as activists for marriage equality.  Their victory is about even more than marriage equality; it’s about promotion of the idea of equal rights for all. 

So what’s next?  Well, the Senate passed the Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA) for the first time ever.  President Obama recently announced he’s moving ahead on an executive order that will ban anti-LGBT discrimination among federal contractors.  Now we need passage of ENDA in the House of Representatives to get it signed into law.

June is LGBT Pride Month.  For so many Oregonians, this particular June will be the sweetest one of all.  Let’s relish this moment in history and keep fighting the good fight!

Happy Pride Month!

Holiday Peace

Ever play with one of those Chinese finger traps?  You stick your fingers in and they are stuck.  The harder you pull, the more stuck you are.  This is how I am feeling during this holiday season, and I know I’m not alone.  There seems to be a huge sense of expectation built up this time of year, to make this the “best one ever,” like life is some kind of Hallmark movie.  Worse yet, there is almost a sense of societal obligation to be cheery.  After all, who wants to be accused of being a scrooge? 

For a variety of reasons, there are several people who won’t be coming to Christmas in my family this year.  Some are no longer with us, some are in a life struggle that is taking precedence over family and holidays, and some have changed their religious views to no longer include Christmas, or the family get-togethers that have accompanied it.  For me, this time of year has always been about family, and the sights and sounds of Christmas this year have a hollow feel to them.  As a matter of fact, I have mostly avoided any shopping that is not absolutely necessary, in order to avoid the dreaded Christmas music, which makes me cranky or depressed, depending on the tune.

I’m not saying any of this for sympathy, or attention; my problems are miniscule compared to some people's.  I’m saying it because it’s my truth, and it’s been weighing on my mind.  So much is beyond our control, not only during this time of the year, but all throughout the year; yet there’s this undeniable pressure to “make” it a great holiday.  Sometimes you just can’t.  It is what it is.  Call me Scrooge, but I feel resentment at that expectation, because it minimizes people’s reality.  There are many times in life that we are walking with privilege and are unaware.  One form of privilege is getting to be with your family and being happy.  Right now, I have several friends going through divorce, several friends grieving a death, a friend dealing with major legal issues with her son, and another friend whose little grandson is at the brink of death from cancer.  Why do we have this pressure to “fake it” when things are not well, just because it’s the holiday season?

A couple of weeks ago, a man I know killed himself.  I don’t know why, and it seemed to come as a surprise to everyone who knew him.  I don’t know what pressures he faced, or what kept him from talking to someone and asking for help, but I don’t think our society is very good at encouraging that.  That expectation to “be tough” isn’t always very helpful.  I’m not blaming society for his death, just wondering what role this might have played.

The only way to get out of a Chinese finger trap is to relax, and push both ends of the trap toward the center.  Reduce pressure, find a place of balance, whether that’s in the center or wherever, because it’s different for everyone.  Stop pulling against the pressure.  And recognize that in the long run, we can attach meaning to a day but it’s still just a day.  We can find new ways to honor our lives, every day.

My friend Deb always ascribed to the Platinum Rule, which is to treat others as they wish to be treated.  I won’t assume that everyone celebrates Christmas and has a Hallmark life (or wants either).  I just think we are all here doing the best we can, in each moment, and that seems more than enough to expect.

Peace is a loaded term.  And for me, I am seeking peace this holiday season by providing joy and comfort where I can, to myself and others.  Staying out of the ways of others when I am feeling grumpy, because it’s not my intention to be a wet blanket.  Looking for the positive in people and situations.  And perhaps most importantly, not feeling guilt if I don’t choose to partake in the Santa hat-wearing, jingle-belling, fake cheer I’m “supposed” to feel.  It's a great opportunity to boil the season down to what is really, truly important.  I’m a little busy this year missing some people, and I’m going to concentrate on loving the people I can. 

If you are reading this, my wish for you is peace of mind and heart, comfort, and love.  If you are sad or struggling, know that you are not alone.  And it’s okay to be sad, because sometimes life is sad, it just is.  There’s nothing wrong with you if you don’t feel “cheery,” or if you do.  Regardless of who or where you are, I wish you peace.

Grief and Gratitude - A love story

Tonight, my plan was to post part II of A Time for Reflection.  But something happened today that was too special not to share, so I will post it tomorrow.

The weather matched my mood today: gray and cloudy, and cold.  I was feeling the weight of the recent shooting event, and other typical life stresses, and in addition, today marks three months that have passed since the death of my dear friend and co-worker, Deborah (Deb) Yund. 

Only Deb knows how many times I have looked at the 8 x 10" framed picture of her on the bookshelf, in our lending library at the office... for inspiration, guidance, or just to remember.  Deb was more than a co-worker.  She was a confidante, co-conspirator, mentor, and possibly the smartest person I ever met.  She made work fun, and everyone adored her.  Her death was unexpected, and has been extremely difficult to accept.

About a month ago, I was in the mail room at work, waiting for the printer to finish spitting out hundreds of copies.  Deb's empty mail slot caught my eye, and I felt that old familiar lump travel from my gut, through my chest, and into my throat.  I noticed a piece of purple paper, and on an impulse, began cutting out little purple paper hearts.  Purple was Deb's favorite color.  I wrote "I miss you" on each little heart, and slipped them into the mail slot.  I felt a little better knowing that, wherever she is, Deb got the message.

Within a few days, I noticed something: other hearts were appearing in Deb's mail slot.  Different colored little paper hearts, with little notes and phrases written on them.  The little collection grew as my co-workers paid their silent tribute to Deb, and I would smile every time I looked at her once-empty mail slot.

About a week ago, we had to move our little heart display as we needed her old mail slot for a new employee.  We put all of the hearts into a blue glass vase that sits in a place of honor on the bookshelf by her photograph, ready to be added to anytime.

Today, as I struggled with that same old lump in my throat, which kept threatening to spill down my cheeks, I posted a simple comment on my Facebook page: "It's been three months today. Deb, I miss you so much."  

After work, I stopped off at my daughter's house to pick up the grandkids.  While I waited for my granddaughter to find her shoes, I noticed I had a notification from Facebook on my phone.  I checked my Facebook page, and there, under my comment, were six comments from my friends.  No words, just hearts.  

My daughter wondered why I was bursting into tears, and I explained about the hearts we all gave Deb, and the hearts my friends gave me, and she said, "Maybe Deb is letting you know she is still around."

I agree, and it's more than that.  Love never dies.  No act of love is ever wasted, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem at the time.  That heart you post on someone's Facebook page, that smile, that five minutes of being a good listener, offering to help do some small thing... it all means something... more than you know.

At a time when most people I know are stressing out over gifts, love remains the greatest gift of all.  I wish everyone reading this love.

"...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make."  The Beatles

Thank you, Deb