A love letter to my Son

 Dear JohnMichael,

It's finally here. It's the 25th anniversary of your arrival on the planet. I now feel like I can exhale the breath I've been holding since you were born. It sounds strange now, but I never imagined you'd be here to celebrate this day. That's something we've talked about before. I can honestly say that I am delighted that you are here to celebrate your quarter-century birthday.

I am proud of you. I am proud of the man you are becoming. You've never disappointed me, never let me down, and never been anything less than perfection. You're not perfect, and I do not expect you to be. When I say that you are perfection, it is to say that you are exactly who you are–no apologies, no regrets. That is perfection, and it is all I ever hoped for you. That doesn't mean I always agree with your choices or behaviors, but I love you despite them. No matter how tense things get or how much we butt heads, you are and will always be my favorite human.

I know it hasn't always been easy for you. Sometimes it's because of circumstances, and sometimes it's my fault, and sometimes yours. I hope that as you get older and reflect, you will discover more good times than bad, more laughter than tears, and more love than sadness. I want you to know that you will always have my support as you forge your own path. And, if you have to make course corrections or changes, you have my support then too. You have the strength and determination to accomplish all you want to do.

I've been watching you chase your passion for a few years now, and you never fail to surprise me. The determination, courage, persistence, and sheer tenacity with which you pursue the jiu-jitsu lifestyle is inspirational. This year, I've seen you make decisions to do what you need to do now to do what you want later. I hope you understand how much pride and delight that brings me. You have the wisdom and willingness to make difficult decisions and sacrifices.

Like all the others before it and all the ones still to come, my birthday wish for you is that your life is everything you want it to be. I wish you love, happiness, and an infinite supply of laughter. I wish for you a tribe - no matter how scattered or dissimilar they are — a tribe of people who will celebrate you, support you, and encourage you no matter how crazy your dream, scheme, or plan may seem.

As you continue to follow your passion, your life will lead you on new adventures to new places. I hope you know that I am cheering you on wherever you are. And I hope you remember that wherever I am, I love you to the universe and back. No matter what.

Happy 25th Birthday, Mikey!

Love, Mom

Have thoughts. Need change.

There have been over 200 mass shootings in under 200 days this year. The most recent terrible massacre occurred in Uvalde, Texas. Victims include not just those who were killed, but also their families, friends, neighbors, future friends, relatives, and loved ones. This incident, along with others in the past, will be remembered by all of us. At least they should be.

But let's be truthful. Because of the following phrase, I have lost friends. I own a firearm. There, I wrote it. I own a firearm. I've been around firearms and fired guns for fun since I was a kid. I acquired my first gun in California, which had some of the strictest buying regulations.  I have a permit to carry a firearm. I raised my child with firearms. He's been shooting since he was five years old.  Our firearms have always been secured in a safe, except for the home defense weapon. My kid never played with them, never told his friends about them, and never took them to school. They were not toys. They were handled safely, always with adult supervision, and never without respect for the life a stray bullet could end. He now has his own firearms. Our firearms have never been used to commit a crime. We consider ourselves to be responsible gun owners. We aren't unique, there are thousands of responsible gun owners in this country. But we know that not every gun owner is responsible - we only need to look at how many kids have been killed by gunfire. And yes,  I am aware that statistics can be manipulated to tell many versions of the same story. But this story, no matter which statistics you use always seems to end with dead kids.

I do not endorse the NRA and am not a member of the organization. I don't believe in their mission.   To a point, I believe in the Second Amendment. I support prudent gun reform. I support universal background checks. I feel that gaps in gun licensing regulations should be closed. I do not think that every manufactured weapon should be in the hands of any civilian.

This nation has a firearms issue. It is much too simple for unstable and unqualified people to get firearms, particularly high-powered, semi-automatic, military-style weapons. I'm going to be chastised for this, but no regular citizen needs an AR-15. Not a single one. The NRA and some hunters will argue you that these high-powered semi-automatic guns and high-powered ammo are necessary. They are not. People have been hunting in this country since we settled here (yes, we stole the land, but that's another argument). The weapons used back then are still among the finest available today. Some of the greatest hunting rifles were lever or bolt action!

Our gun laws must be changed. I won't pretend to know what it should look like, but we need restrictions on what types of weapons are sold and to whom, qualifications for what you can buy and proof of competency, and universal background checks regardless of state (see if you can figure out how NICS works), and coordinated federal licensing. Because I am unable to get a license to carry or buy a handgun in my home state, I should not be able to obtain a permit as a non-resident of another state. Utah granted 424,531 non-resident licenses as of 2021, trailed by Florida (221,440), Maine (14,628), New Hampshire (28,408), and Virginia (42,924). This is in addition to the 20 states where "open" or "constitutional carry" is authorized. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

To be sure, there is a mental health component to this problem. But, I feel, some of it is due to society's apathy about the problem. It's nothing new to us. But, for those of us who are outraged and heartbroken, the same legislators are re-elected every election cycle. I do not believe that all individuals should be prohibited from possessing firearms. However, I believe that certain firearms should be prohibited. I feel that the rights of our children to have a fighting chance in school take priority over the rights of 18-year-olds to purchase an AR15.

As I have said, I have lost friends as a result of this dispute. I'm sure I'll lose more. But I don't think my recreational use of weapons prevents me from being grieved by senseless murder. That's like saying I can't be grieved by loss in vehicle or motorcycle accidents because I drive a car or ride a motorcycle. I'm willing to have a courteous conversation about it, or you may unfriend me and return to your regularly scheduled programming. I think we can strike a balance; I hope we can because otherwise, we are continuing to fail our children.

Our elected leaders' thoughts and prayers are physically murdering our country's youngsters. Have thoughts, need change.

Healing old hurts

I had what I believed was the love of my life in what seemed like another lifetime. I was 16, and he was considerably older, but we were happy. We had our ups and downs, breakups and makeups, and a lot of fun and laughter. I tried new things and went to new places—I had adventures! We were desperately in love until we weren't, and I was simply desperate for his love and attention.

In the almost seven years that we were in and out of a relationship, a lot occurred. Much of it influenced me more than I realized. During that period, I faced my worst moments and most profound grief, and for many decades I blamed him exclusively. He bore some of the culpability; he lied to me about our relationship and his life outside of it for years. I was young and innocent, or appeared to be, and lacked the self-confidence and self-worth to walk away.

Much later in life, so much later that it seems like another lifetime, I recognized that much of what happened between us was at least partially my responsibility. That epiphany? It didn't sit right with me, but I wasn't sure how to handle it. See, if I had walked away sooner, much of the pain would have been avoided.

I've frequently wondered where he was and whether he was happy in the years since we last talked. And, yeah, I did wonder whether he was thinking about me. I'd lost track of him, and even my best alphabet soup talents couldn't help me locate him. Until I did one day.

I explored a bit further and discovered some new information. He changed his name, had two grown children, lost a wife, and remarried happily. He continued to fly and eventually bought his own aircraft. He seemed to be content. I had no wish to cause drama, but I felt compelled to apologize. I simply didn't know how to do so.

In February of this year, after months of sporadic stalking, I sent a message. I honestly anticipated no answer and felt a weight lift off my shoulders when I eventually pressed the send button. There was no sign that he had seen or read the note for weeks. That was OK with me. Then, one day...

He responded. He was gracious in his note and acknowledged how his actions and behaviors were hurtful. And he apologized, accepting full responsibility for his actions. His remark lifted a bit more weight off my shoulders, and I felt relieved that all of the pain had been put to rest. And yet a tiny part of me wondered if I had mattered. Had he thought about me, remembered "us?" I set it aside and didn't think about it again until this morning.

When I logged on, his message was highlighted on my laptop. For the first time, I took notice of the date of his message. He sent it on my birthday. My heart smiled, and all my questions and wondering have finally been laid to rest. Why? Because I don't believe in coincidence, and neither did he. I believe...no, I know the date was chosen on purpose. It was a gift I needed to heal the girl within me who had been taught she didn't deserve to be loved. And it was given to me by the person who, maybe unintentionally, had been my most significant teacher of that lesson.

How and when healing happens is a funny thing.

It's been a long time

 I can't believe I haven't used this blog in over three years!  I'm not going to try and catch you up on all that time, but I will endeavor to use this more frequently.

My life has been a bit of an e-ticket ride, but the events of the last two weeks have been a bit more than normal. There were exhilarating highs and excruciating lows back-to-back, and I have been processing those events. I tend to use FB to both update friends and memorialize events; a living diary if you will. But sometimes life is experienced at a breakneck speed with no ability to pause and reflect. Fortunately, I have the time now. If you are so inclined, get comfy and read on.

The month began with the celebration of an impending event.  I posted photos and received a huge outpouring of support. It felt like friends came out of the woodwork to offer congratulations and I was humbled and touched. A few days later I posted a heartbreaking event and all of those friends showed up again to offer support and condolences. I was again humbled and touched. I was also struck by the realization that people show up if you offer them the opportunity. It’s a challenge in the age of social media to let people in at your lowest moments. Sharing the good stuff is easier.  So, I wanted to say thank you to everyone for showing up on my worst days as well as my good days. It was unexpected because I am my own worst critic.

I had the opportunity to take a road trip to Los Angeles for a combination work and graduation trip. The solitude gave me time to think but very little time to grieve, which in retrospect was a good thing. I always knew losing Maggie would put me in a tailspin. Had I not had the trip to L.A. to focus on I would have been lost.  The drive was breathtaking and tiring. The moment I crossed the border to California my soul seemed to breathe easier simply because I was home.

The work portion of the trip was a yeoman's effort but so much fun at the same time. I was fortunate to have an unexpected dinner with an old friend. We have been friends since first grade and drifted apart over the years. At dinner, she gave me a gift I didn't know I needed – a rekindling of our friendship and the knowledge that drifting apart wasn't personal. Over the years we were out of touch I have often wondered what I did or said that caused the friendship to end abruptly. Remember, I am my own worst critic so I expected it was about me.  Surprise! It wasn't.

I celebrated another amazing high, in my hooding ceremony on May 11. This marked the official granting of my doctoral degree. USC was my dream school from a young age.  For decades the idea of completing not one, but two degrees was unfathomable. My master's graduation didn't sit with me as well as it should have. Yes, I was proud of my accomplishment, but I let my perceived failure at not achieving the goal I set for myself rob the joy of the moment. This time when I walked the commencement stage I was filled with emotion. There was joy, pride, relief, and accomplishment. I worked my tail off for this degree, not only trying to write a dissertation that would make an impact but with a GPA that left no room in my mind to question the validity of the diploma. I have a hard time accepting accolades as being deserved. Like I said, I am my own worst critic.  I was wildly celebrated and made my Mom burst with pride.

On my drive home I had the privilege of meeting a dear friend from high school and her mom, who is also a dear friend, for lunch. The years since we have seen each other melted away in one heartfelt hug. We laughed and caught up on decades of life, shared stories of our kids, and talked about our futures. It was time I treasure and I didn't want to leave. We have a date on the calendar to begin talking about creating a mini-reunion among a small group of friends next Fall.  I can't wait.  Now if I can just talk her into meeting for lunch again that doesn't involve a 10-hour drive…who am I kidding, I'll drive 20 hours to see her!!!

Thanks for sharing life with me!