Used Car

There is no analogy for dealing with car salesman that doesn't entail half of the word analogy. 

Oh, Miley

Dear Concerned Parents,

You are too freaked out about the dangers of your teen attending the Miley Cyrus concert!     

When I was younger, I went to an AC/DC concert and didn't take the Highway to Hell. I went to a Van Halen concert and David Lee Roth's backless pants didn't make me promiscuous. Ronnie James Dio did not turn me into a War Pig. Ozzy Osborne did not propel me to urinate on the Alamo. The Red Hot Chili Peppers concert did not make me rock with a sock on my cock. And the Erasure concert didn't make me a Victim of Love. Or super gay. Madonna did, however, make me wear a fake mole on my face and a bunch of bracelets for about a year. And the Cheap Trick concert taught me to Surrender without giving myself away. And even though Triumph told me that I've got the Magic Power of the music in me, I believed Rush, and always chose Free Will. Tommy Tutone apparently had the greatest influence over my brain as I still, on occasion, feel compelled to call Jenny's number.  But I am still Jewish after Depeche Mode begged me to get my own personal Jesus. And also, sadly to date, after attending two Aerosmith concerts I have yet to experience Love In An Elevator.  And I turned out okay. 

You have worked hard and have done a wonderful job with your kids, parents.  Let them enjoy the music of their generation! Even if you don't understand it. 

Sincerely, 

Jessie's Girl 

Ronnie James Dio circa 1980s

Spring Break

My 18 year old is off to South Padre Island for Spring Break. As this is her first big road trip that she has actually told me about, I wanted to give her parenting advice that she would listen to, without getting upset with me.

Now, pay attention parents:

Incorporating stupid little emojis in a text message will miraculously transform your annoying and condescending message into an adorable fun-filled message.  She read my entire message:

To which she replied (emoji included):

Mission accomplished!

Learn to speak the language of this new strange generation. And they will listen. 

And that being said, listening and doing are sadly two different things. When I was 18, I was on the road to California. Because I thought I was Jack Karouak.  FML. 

I am now left with nothing more than my "Karma is a Bitch" emoji. 

And perhaps this one too. 

Wishing you and your kids a fun and safe spring break, and don't forget to talk to your children, not at them. They just may listen.  

The Munchkin Games

I think it is very important to teach your children survival skills. Mine can create meals from what little is in the pantry before payday, coerce their teachers into extra credit when they are failing, and steal each other's clothes without detection. 

As a single mom with three daughters, my children have also learned a skill that I call "Survival of the Sweetest," which sport is also know as "The Munchkin Games." 

Most recently, after growing bored of being my center of attention during graduation, Eldest Child, when asked to clean her room, committed a technical foul which got her ass ejected from the game, and sent straight to her room.

Youngest Child quickly went to work at the free throw line and created the following, once again reclaiming her position as MVP: 

She has learned to use cuteness as a weapon, and armed with only 1,10023 exquamashon marx in her love letter, she found herself victorious. A slam dunk was made by combining true love and a drawing of me with thin arms, while skillfully omitting the thighs altogether. 

Unfortunately, Middle Child, in a flawless stealth-like rebound, slept all day after a late night sleepover and took the lead by proving to be The Quiet Child, earning herself a three point trip to the mall without her sisters. The old "Seen and Not Heard" move is a timeless Munchkin Games classic, which is always appreciated, especially when mom has a headache.

In an effort to get back in the game in the fourth quarter, Eldest Child agreed to clean her room, but let the team down by taking a nap instead. Even though she is my Allstar, she will be benched the next two games, and, if she continues to play poorly, could possibly become a free agent or traded for a hamster.

It's a well known fact that reading, writing and arithmetic can only get you so far in this kid eat kid world. If you want to survive, respect your grown ups! 

Let the Munchkin Games begin! May the odds be ever in your favor! And don't forget: A brown nose will get you a gold star every time.

Throwback Thursday

It was not easy for me being a mom of three. When my third was born, I was lost, confused, somewhat abused, overwhelmed and underappreciated.

Luckily, I learned the secret to true happiness:  A SENSE OF HUMOR!

Please forgive me Maya. But in all fairness, you did keep me up all night and change my bra size.

   

The King

A couple years ago, Maya came home from Kindergarten excited to tell me that "Today I learned about our King!"

I explained to her that we live in the United States where we are ruled by democracy, rather than monarchy, and elect our leaders by voting. "You must have learned about the president, not the king." I said.

"No! You are not listening! I learned about our king!" she yelled as I obviously overspoke the 15 word limit my children allow me.

"Um... Prince Charles?" I tried.

"Did you not ever go to school?  I said THE KING! He was very famous."

"Oh Elvis!!!!  Hunka hunka burnin' love!" I sang, dancing around and feeling pretty proud of myself.

She ran into kitchen, frustrated and madder than a wet cat. "Forget it! You never listen! Just leave me alone!"

How do I always manage to aggravate my kids? Is it the sound of my voice? My lack of hipness?

As I knew better than to press any further, I quietly walked into the foyer and searched through her backpack where I found HIM. Our King!!!!

His picture still hangs on our wall to remind me to always choose love over hate, that we are all created equal, and that no matter what I say or do, I am bound to piss off my kids. 

.

Oh Deer

I killed my first deer this week. I understand this to be a beloved tradition this time of year. Most Texans have done this by the age of 12. My boss uses a bow and arrow. I used my car. 

The insurance adjuster wasn't very empathic about the deer dying. It was traumatic for my kids though. They had many questions about death and something called "deductible" that made mommy cry. Sometimes the only way to quiet a child is with Steve Jobs Duct Tape. I handed them an iPad and drove home in silence. 

"I was disgusted at how many people asked me if I kept that poor deer to eat. I would never purposely kill an animal and eat it!" I said that night at dinner as I took a bite out of my hamburger that came from meat the way God intended. With a side order of fries out of a Whataburger bag. 

The Circle

My daughter's baby announcement read "Our world is now complete..."

As I sit here 18 years later, writing her graduation announcement, all I have typed is "My world is now broken."

Have you ever cried in a way that was so important that you didn't want to wipe the tears away?  Have you ever worn your tears because the anguish was so deep that if you wiped them away, you wouldn't know what to do with yourself?  

I am aware of the fact that when I have mascara all over my face, I don't look heartbroken, I look like Ozzy Osborne. And I'm aware of the fact that when I explain the depth of my love and emotion to my 18 year old, I don't sound devoted. I sound annoying. And I'm aware of the fact that, although I feel like the postergirl for motherhood, I am the postergirl for birth control. But I'm simply not aware of any easy way at all to let my baby go.  I didn't get enough time.  I am not done. 

I have some ideas:

1) Slash the tires on her car so she can't leave me.

2) Drink Vodka.

That's all I've got.  Shit. 

The circle of life sucks. But I guess it's the only circle given.  So I write..

When she was little, she was my baby, 

I was her world. She held my hand.

When she got older, I was her harbor, 

She raised her sail for her world to expand.

I watch with wonder and sadness and pain 

Excitement and pride she won't understand

Till she has a baby that makes her the world. 

Then she'll watch with wonder. She'll hold her hand. 

And life will go on - ready or not,

For better or worse, the way that God planned. 

Rachelle Abelow,

Writer/Annoying Mother 

The Reflection

As I reflect on the past year, I would like to share some things I have discovered:

1) Many people are suffering from anguish, heartbreak, grief, fear, dejection or pain. Some more than others. 

2) It is these people that tend to be the most empathetic.

3) This must mean that anguish, heartbreak grief, fear, dejection and pain make us better and kinder people.
4) Keep living.
5) It gets better.

6) Everyone says "Next year will be better!" This makes no sense because years are only increments of time that don't change.  

7) For things to change in your life, you MUST do things that are uncomfortable. Look closely at yourself and your own faults. Adjust yourself, your choices and your life accordingly. The time to act is yours. How you make it is how you got it.  

8) Unfortunately, sometimes it doesn't matter how you make it. Shit happens.

9) In the midst of a shit storm, it is best to turn up the music and do your best shit dance in your most comfortable shit shoes. There is a bubble bath waiting when it subsides.

10) On New Year's Eve, my kids asked me to resolve to spend more time with them. 

11) Last night they told me to get out of their rooms when I tried to spend time with them.

12) Sometimes resolutions don't last long because we are not ready.

13) My kids have named the baby in my tummy "Billy." They insist that it cannot be short for William or anything fancy. Just "Billy."

14) I am not pregnant. My kids are not funny. My New Year's Resolution is now to lose weight... when I am ready.
15) My favorite exercise is skipping! It is impossible to skip without smiling. Try it. I dare you. 
16) Every time I try something new, my life changes. You CAN teach old dogs new tricks!

17) At my age, I wear only comfortable shoes.  I don't care if they are ugly.
18) If you have personality and a padded bra, nobody will notice your ugly shoes. 

I wish you all a new year filled with home-cooked meals, someone to cuddle (furry or not), the feeling of possibility or adventure on the horizon, music to accompany you, the smell of cookies fresh out of the oven, and the ability to look at the sky with wonder.  This is your year.  It is time....

Imagination Is The New Black

My daughter walked into her room the other night and screamed so loud that we all came running. Apparently, while we were away, someone had ripped her window screen, broken into her second floor room and removed toys from her toy box.   

That "somebody" was Jessie, our elf that has visited our house every year for about a decade. In a "That 70s Show" style circle, Jessie was found, to my child's delight, in her freezing cold room partying on her bed. Our elf looked noticibly tired, probably from walking all the way to the kitchen to make popcorn for her new friends, who must have also come to life briefly to attend the festivities.

And none of this seemed strange to anyone in my home. I am not sure which is worse, the fact that this creepy shit delights my kids, or the fact that we spent more time this week orchestrating a fantasy world, than we did doing real world things. The jury is still out as to whether this will cause my kids to become crazy, clever, castigated or confused. Or even worse... just like me. 


I used to dream that one day I would have a unicorn. Now that I am older, wiser and more responsible, I know that is impossible. Because I am far too busy for another pet. 

Children are born believing anything is possible. That's why they smile so much. Try it sometime! Especially during the holidays. It may be your only escape. 

Wishing you all fantasies, daydreams and childish holiday amusement,

Rachelle

The Carol

My roses are red, my politics - reddish blue.

My children - all girls, my religion is Jew.

You’ll find me still kicking after all I’ve been through.

Please try not to judge me if I’m not like you.

I have lots of friends, but trust just a few.

We don’t all think the same. I have my own view.

I am pretty smart, and I think you are too.

We’re all stuck here together because friendship is glue. 

'Tis the season of peace and the festival of light.
Let's put down our egos and hold each other tight.
It's okay to back down even when you are right.
Or just shut the fuck up if you still want to fight.

In the end, it won’t matter. I promise, it’s true,

If you’re black or white, yellow, green, red or blue,

Or who won the spelling bee or first chair in kazoo,

Who had the strongest religion or political view. 

All that will matter, I promise, it’s true,

Is the love you emit and permit back to you. 

We have only one life, so let's get this right. 

Happy holidays to all, and to all a good night!

SH*T MY KIDS SAY

Maya (My seven year old): (Calling me at work) Mommy, I'm scared! I just stepped on glass. Come home.

Me:  Are you okay? Do you need stitches? Does it hurt?

Maya:  No.

Me: Then why do I have to come home?

Maya: I got blood on the floor and walls. This place looks haunted.

***************************

Maya: (Calling me at work and crying hysterically) 

Me:  Are you okay?

Maya:  No! I tried to put the milk away and it spilled everywhere!

Me: Haven't you ever heard the saying that there is no use crying over spilled milk? 

Maya: But it's everywhere! That's why I'm crying!

Me: But there's a saying that everyone says: There's no use crying over spilled milk. Because it's no big deal. Just clean it up.

Maya: Nobody EVER says that. I'm in second grade and I've never heard anyone say that. When the milk is all over the floor like this, people cry.  (Click)

***************************

Maya:  John bullies me. He makes fun of me on the bus. He is mean and says that there is no Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny or Santa Claus. Is that true, Mommy? 

Me: Well, I'll tell you this... from what I have seen, the kids that do believe get rewarded with money from the Tooth Fairy, candy from the Easter Bunny and toys from Santa Claus. Poor John is missing out on all of the fun. That's probably why he's such an asshole.

Maya: Okay! I believe! Thanks, Mommy! And you know that's going on your Language Chart, right?

Me:  Yep.

The Dark Passenger

Dear Hormones,

I understand that you are simply doing your job, however, there are a few things we need to get straight:

1) This morning, like a godless hussy, I woke up with my child's Halloween candy in my arms, and chocolate stains on my sheets. Stop!

2) Patch up your twisted relationship with my metabolism. Fat jeans are not supposed to be tight.  Sir Mix A Lot was wrong. 

3) Make the force be with me, my liege. My super bitch powers are no match for my teenagers' super bitch powers. The force is strong with those ones. 

4) My children should be afraid of me when you encourage me to raise my voice, not entertained. Make me loud AND scary. Cute and spunky gets me nowhere. Do your job or clean my house. 

5) Involuntary narcissistic rage is not a bad thing if I'm right. Right? 

6) Thanks so much for the hot flashes. My running around outside in shorts and a tank top in 37 degree weather has distracted the neighbors from all the other reasons they could suspect I'm crazy. 

7) There is no reason for me to cry. It was just a commercial. Back the fuck off. 

8) I am positively profoundly pissed off at everyone in the entire world this week. It is time for a safe word. 

Your hostile hostage, 

Rachelle

The Innocent

How to read 50 Shades in public...

The Nature

THINGS I LEARNED WHILE CAMPING WITH MY KIDS:

1)  While you are waiting to get your campsite, and 50 people are in line in front of you, listening to your teenager whisper inappropriate jokes is not a good way to make the time pass quicker. Your seven year old may overhear and yell out "What's a dildo?" actually making the time pass much slower.

2)  The wooden marshmallow roasting sticks you bought for $2 does not make you a smart shopper. They are made of wood.  This makes you a stupid moron.  

3)   Melted marshmallow does not come off of a Juicy tracksuit. The fact that you wore your Juicy tracksuit camping, again, makes you a stupid moron.  

4)  Chasing a bunny rabbit in the dark can be a bad thing. Especially when you realize it is not actually a bunny rabbit, it is actually a skunk. You should stick to star gazing on night hikes.

5)  You should stick to ground gazing on day hikes as we also learned centipedes can be as large as a human foot.  

6)  The person that makes fun of your Mickey Mouse footie pajamas will beg to wear them after the first cold night. Don't hate on the onesies. They are hip AND warm. 

  

7)  The campsite two weeks ago may not have had the breathtaking view of the mountains and the stunning change of the season’s colors like this campsite, but it was free of sticker burrs on the ground to allow for frisbee baseball, had no ants or bees, had larger trees to climb and hide behind to go to the restroom, and a little neighbor girl to ride bikes with Maya. Prettier is not better. It is simply prettier.

8)  When teaching your children about nature, if they roughly throw the cup of tadpoles back in the water because they want to keep them as pets but you've insisted they belong in their own natural and peaceful environment, then you have not yet properly taught you children about nature. Calling them "Dexter" under your breath is funny, only until you think about it, and realize you are far from civilization.  

9)  There is a pure calmness that engulfs my mind and body when I am far from civilization. If this is true for everyone, civilization is not as civilized as we believe.

10)  In the woods, kids cannot escape to their rooms to use iCrap or Skype or sleep or sulk. In the woods, you make your own fun.  And you do it together.  

11) There is nothing funnier in the world than drawing eyes and a nose on someone's chin while they are lying down, and watching them talk. Don’t judge.  Just do it.

12) Seven year olds believe, wholeheartedly, that the Tooth Fairy knows where you are, even when you are in a tent deep in the woods, and especially when you only have twenties and hundreds in your purse. 

13)  When you pee in the woods, and you hear a stranger laughing, it is safe to assume you have not gone deep enough into the woods. 

14)  On day three, it is time to go home! I am exhausted, my back feels crooked as a question mark, and I desperately need a bubble bath. I f@*&%ing dare anyone to tell me Oreos for breakfast and Dairy Queen for lunch are not nutritional.  

15)  There is only one thing better than sleeping in a tent under the stars! JW Marriott.  Definitely JW Marriott.

The Style

Dear Vogue Magazine,

My doctor insists that I start wearing glasses, as I am now over 20 years old. Just a little bit. I have found that the eyewear that is considered stylish is a smaller, petite type of glasses, that does not allow for progressive lenses. Quite frankly, it also irritates the crap out of me when I can see the stupid frames in my line of vision.  I wanted YOU to be the first to know that I have started a new trend, and I am hopeful that it will catch on like a wildfire: Large Glasses! We can call them: Glasses Couture.  I have purchased some and I look absolutely amazing in them.  See my picture below:

Please print this on your next cover.  Big glasses are IN!

Also,  my doctor insists that I stop carrying heavy purses because of my new shoulder problems, as I am now over 20 years old. Just a little bit.  I can't think of any better accessory that delivers comfort and accentuates the one thing that all of our fine young gangstas are rapping about. I have now brought back an old trend: Fanny Packs!  We can call it:  Asses Couture.  See my design below:

Please print this on your next cover.  Fanny packs are IN!

Just trying to keep the "hot" in hot flashes, the "hip" in hip replacement, and the "men" around for menopause. 

Sincerely,

Rachelle

The Great Outdoors

I had a dreadful and disheartening week, so, on Friday, I rounded up my children, herded them into the car, and headed for the woods to the The Middle of Nowhere. 

I just read that last sentence again and it didn't sound right. Not only were there too many commas, but I didn't Freddy Krueger round up the children. I Chevy Chase as Clark Griswold rounded up up the children. My plan was for us to plunge into nature and search for God or tadpoles or those flint rocks that look like an Indian may have been trying to carve them and, most importantly, a campsite sequestered from modern amenities with an electrical outlet for my Keurig and laptop. By the end of the weekend, we found all of the above. 

We settled in to our new temporary home with a feeling of renewal, that only mother nature can provide, and tub full of junk food, that only PMS can ensure. We made a small fire and sat around our table under the stars and got ready to eat our dinner consisting of pb&j sandwiches and powdered sugar Hostess Donettes. Before we started to eat, my seven year old stood up on the table (because in the woods you can do shit like that).  With one hand she aimed the flashlight under her face and with the other she raised her bottle of root beer and said, "Stop! Nobody eat! I want to make toast!" We all complied and raised our beverages. She spoke in resounding diminutive wisdom, "I am thankful for my mom for giving me this awesome family, and I am thankful for God for the food we are about to eat." And then she look puzzled and stood for while with her root beer bottle raised high in the air and said, "Do I say 'cheers' or 'amen'?"  

Without missing a beat, we all cried,  "CHAYYYYYMENN!"

The weekend was restoring for us all and we laughed more than we slept, waded through rivers, danced, climbed trees, played frisbee baseball, roasted marshmallows, told ghost stories, and peed in the woods. But, the most meaningful part of our vacation in the great outdoors, for me, was being surrounded by my family. By the time we left, I was a different person from when I arrived. For better or for worse, my family helps put everything in perspective, and that they did when they presented me the greatest compliment a mother could ever receive when they proclaimed, "You put the 'fun' in "dysfunctional'!" 

Without missing a beat, we all laughed,  "CHAYYYYYMENN!"

With a carload of sleeping smelly children, I drove home reluctantly, listening to the Beatles, and fantasized about how I could take my broken wings and learn to fly. And then it hit me. Like a flash of redneck lightning!  My younguns and I should learn to carve duck whistles! And stop shaving! And say shit like, "Bless your heart!" We could live in The Middle of Nowhere, perhaps near a mall, and live happily ever after! 

Without missing a beat, I hollered  "CHAYYYYYMENN!"

The Jerk

It's a long drop from the top of the world. Enjoy the view while you can.  It's pretty dark down here.  

The good news is that all I need is this remote. And this lamp. And this pillow too. This remote, lamp and pillow, and that's all I need.  

How do bad things happen so quickly?  How does hope fly so far out of reach? How does life just change on a dime? Without reason or notice? Without logic or consideration?

Perhaps one day I'll find my special purpose.

Until then, I guess, there's nowhere to go but up. 

The Motherhood

I had chest pains for about two hours yesterday after I received this message from my 18 year old daughter, after my phone had been silenced, at my eye doctor appointment...

I called my child repeatedly and received no answer.  For an entire hour.  No answer. Okay, realistically it was only an entire ten minutes, but it was a really long ten minutes.  And I got chest pains.

I was sure my baby had been in an accident, after she was stabbed by a mugger, and was lying in a ditch, alone.  Except for the pack of hungry coyotes. And I got chest pains.

The phone finally rang.  It was her!  She was alive! And not crushed or stabbed or dog food alone in a ditch!  And then The Princess spoke...

"I'm at work and my nose is really stuffy!  Will you please bring me allergy medicine?"

And I got chest pains.

I took her some medicine, and I really shouldn't have been surprised. The last time she wasn't feeling well I came back from the bathroom to find this...

I know I have spoiled my children, and it has been my pleasure. I am, however, working hard to teach my 7 year old that this is not the way to get attention, and she has learned well.

She wanted to sleep in my room.  Well played, Maya.  Well played. Of course, the Queen said "Yes."  

The most important thing in my life is to make sure my kids are happy, healthy and laugh at least once a day.  I thought I was doing a good job until I got this text from Middle Child. I think humor is the key to all happiness.

  

But you're not funny, Samantha. 

It's all worth it though...

Motherhood...  it's like an enema.  A cathartic and refreshing gift, that keeps on giving.  

The Crush

My secret crush is Kevin Smith. I've been crushing since the first time I heard him speak during an interview after the movie "Clerks" came out.

Now is the time to pay attention boys... If you make a girl laugh, she will NEVER forget you. I guess the same is true if you make a girl cry. But only one of those will get you laid. 

The Good

Evil wins in Good vs. Evil more often than not. If I take away from that that it is then better to be Evil, then Evil wins again.  

The President

Barack Obama and I really have a lot in common.  Like the President of the United States (POTUS), Currently Raising children Alone as President (CRAP) is a difficult job. Similar to President Obama, as president of my family, I rarely have an approval rating over 49%.  I have tackled budget reform and am still in perpetual debt. I have very lax immigration laws, as every weekend there are migrant teenagers sleeping on my floors and sofas. I don't have an oval office to do my strategizing, just a bathroom. Regrettably, the secret service follows me in there too. Her name is Maya. She is seven. I have implemented an energy efficiency bill that has been ignored, and the deficit increases.  I have a lovely healthcare plan. Omamacare. I kiss boo boos and cure all other ailments with a bubble bath and hot cocoa. This plan makes the world a happier and healthier place.  But only for some.  I view all people as equals. (Except for Rush Limbaugh.) I am strongly for gun control in our home. Each time I wrestle a cell phone away from a grounded teenager, I am reminded to never sway on this issue as I'd be a goner. I favor peace over war, and have zero tolerance for terrorism. If anyone threatens my family, there will be shock and awe, with or without backing. I don't believe anyone needs to show an ID to vote in our home. We are a democracy. All of my ideas are challenged relentlessly, but just like the POTUS, I have full veto power.  I am the change.  With so little backing that I can't even enforce bedtime. I am patiently awaiting my Nobel Peace Prize.  Let me be clear, and make no mistake, This CRAP is hard work! 

The Pride

The Straight

When this little straight girl was asked to help out at the Austin Pride Festival, I was honored and excited to do something positive for people. People who I have watched struggle unnecessarily in this world.  Some of whom I know and love dearly.  I had no idea what to expect as the pictures etched into my mind from past reads were flamboyant, wild and out of control.  I was ready for anything!  I tried to put myself into the spirit of a people who had perhaps only one weekend in “their" hometown where they were surrounded by folks of different ages, colors, sizes and religions, who understood them on a level that nobody else could.  It would be a place where they could be themselves, let loose, and celebrate the freedoms they struggled to protect, and those they aspire to secure.  I fantasized it would be like when I turned twenty-one and went out to celebrate my new freedom.  I drank “screaming o” shots at a night club until I vomited.  The hours between the first shot and the commode are a celebratory wild and exciting indescribable blur.  And I promise to keep it that way.

The Gay

I know now why they have been given the name “Gay.”  I was in the presence of the happiest group of people, collectively glowing from joy, even without the glitter.  There was no loud, ugly or boisterous behavior.  This event was not used as an excuse to act out, rather an opportunity to rejoice. The simple joy emanating from the festival grounds was almost tangible.  I tried to steal as much of it as I could as I looked into the eyes of the people who spoke to me, and hoped that I would, at some point in my life, have a day just like theirs where I felt whole.  The folks who put this event together worked day and night in unbearable heat and nasty dust storms, but not once did I hear them complain.  It was a labor of love.  I have never met such a large group of polite, kind and soft spoken people.  Many covered in glitter, some in outrageous costumes, and all of them nice to me.

The Fear

I honestly did have a smidgeon of fear going into this weekend.  The same kind that I have sometimes going into a synagogue during turbulent times.  There is so much hate in the world.  Much of it comes from ignorance.  All of it is dangerous. Surprisingly, I only witnessed two instances of hate during the Austin Pride weekend.  Both after the parade.  The first was when my date was kind enough to carry my purse for me.  He knows I have a bad back and is one of the most thoughtful gentlemen that I know.  A scary large man came up to us, angrily threw his hands in the air, called him ugly names, and then walked off.  In his defense, from what I heard, he fell into the “ignorance” category. The second incident occurred when two women exchanged words, then one of them threw a rose, as hard as she absolutely could, at the other woman.  In her defense, from what I heard, she deserved it. 

The Pride

There were a few times that I cried this weekend.  The beauty I witnessed was moving. Mostly when straight, sometimes even redneck type fathers, brought their sons to my booth to make sure the family had Pride shirts to commemorate in solidarity the importance of this day.  One adorable kid wore a rainbow colored bow tie and carried an umbrella to match.  We complimented the young man on being smart enough to bring an umbrella to shade himself from the sun.  His father joined the conversation by adding “He wanted to bring his fedora, but we all agreed the umbrella matched better with his outfit.”  I can only hope I am as in tune to my children as these parents were.  The other times were when I saw churches at the parade and festival that were brave enough to publicly support their congregants and others who did not fit some of the translations of their bible.  They preached about a god who loves everyone equally, and what made me cry was that they meant it.  The Pride Festival must have been named for me too.  I was so proud of my humans. 

The Equality

I was raised by professionals who grew up in the hippie generation.  I was taught to love everyone equally.  I taught my kids to be colorblind and although it is not my most eloquent saying “Judge people only by whether or not they are assholes.”   I still don’t understand why gay people want to get married though, other than the whole equality, freedom and benefits thing.  It was not so fun for me. I find it difficult to believe in a government that wants to prevent these lovely people from getting married, but did not once try to stop me from straight marrying He Who Must Not Be Named. It just makes no sense.  We were planted on this planet all the same, and blossomed so delightfully different from one another.  It takes a bit of manure to make us grow stronger, and we do.  It takes a bit of time to learn to share the sun, and we will.   

I truly wasn’t sure if a little straight girl like me would be accepted in this group of people whose common denominator did not include me. Only one person actually asked me if I was gay.  I answered honestly, and with pride.  “No, I am not, but don’t judge me.  I was born this way.”