Barely a veteran

This has been a week of recognizing and honoring our veterans. My dad was a veteran. Barely.  At 19 years old, he enlisted in the army in July of 1948. About a year and a half later he received a medical discharge in March of 1950, just months before the Korean War. He never saw combat, and he never talked to me about his time in the service.  Add this to the list of things I wish I could have learned about him before he died. And while I’m wishing, I wish I could recount this with a more multi-faceted perspective then that of his pre-teen tomboy.

My mom told me Dad always felt terribly guilty about his service, or rather, lack of service. The story I recall is that he was released from the Army after being injured in an alcohol-related car accident. His dismissal date is 15 days after his 21^st birthday, so I imagine he’d been out celebrating. I can’t substantiate that, but it makes a good—as in tragic—story. Drunk driving wasn’t illegal at the time, but he still held a gratitude-laced guilt.  He undoubtedly knew a lot of guys who fought and lost their lives and minds in the Korean War while he got to move on with a mangled knee and a medical discharge after that car wreck. He got to marry a couple of different women, have a few (terrific) kids, and chase the American dream of running his own business in Smalltown, America.

I can still remember his disfigured knee and wrapping ritual. Most of his leg was bumpy and discolored and he bound it with a dingy ace bandage. He’d light up a cigarette and either with it resting on his lips or in his bedside ashtray, he would weave his wrap through plumes of smoke every single day. His bedside table overflowed with fanged metal bandage clips and cigarette butts.

I can’t recall if he had a limp or not, but I know he hurt. He lauded the healing hot pools in Lava and tried to soak every morning before opening the Lava Lounge after noon.

Dad drank and smoked with nary a consideration of health insurance. His military guilt was exacerbated after he was diagnosed with lung cancer. Those 20 months in the Army qualified him for care from the Veterans Administration, and the VA hospital in Salt Lake City accepted him with open arms.

The Band-aid and bland gravy smells of the VA cemented my memories of my weekly visits to see him. Other weathered old men walked the halls with their IV’s wearing paltry hospital gowns, slippers and prestigious black caps with pins and patches. I’d see some gathered in meeting areas and could hear snippets of war stories. Dad never socialized. His months in the hospital were quiet and lonely and a complete contrast to the life of the charismatic and charming bar owner who knew everyone in town.

His care was top-notch over the course of a lung removal and emphysema treatment. In addition to his short stint in the service, my dad resented paying taxes, and was often in the sights of the IRS. He had a list of things that would make one question whether or not he deserved to receive the quality care and compassion he did while at the VA. He spent a lot of time in silence over his last months and while I wonder if he was in deep reflection, he might have just been wishing he was fishing.

I have no idea what Dad’s motives were in joining the Army. I doubt it was inspired by a deep patriotism, but it could have been. He may have enlisted for an education or a thrill. He may have been bored. He may have been avoiding an ex-girlfriend who’d just had his son, but whatever the reason was, he did enlist. He did sign up to serve, and there might just be some shred of honor or distinction somewhere surrounding his time in the US Army. I will never know.

During this week I’ve seen local businesses from restaurants to dry cleaners to furniture stores say “thank you” to veterans through sales and discounts. I’ve seen articles about what we can do to better serve the men and women who’ve served us, and I’ve read numerous accounts of military personnel that make me so grateful for the sacrifices and service of so many. As we remember veterans this week, I remember my dad, and while he we was barely a veteran, he was a veteran nonetheless.

CAKE Deliver

When I was a college student, scanning the aisles of the Party Palace on Garrett Way with other members of the Idaho State Volleyball team, I never considered that choosing the silly cow suit would come into play like it did last week.

My friends were beautiful and fit and wanted to dress up like 1920’s flappers.  Flappers were known for short skirts, excessive makeup, and sporting cigarettes and heels.  While contemplating my discomfort showing that much skin and masquerading in such makeup, the packaged cow suit appeared before my eyes like a gift from heaven.

I wore it for Halloweens. I surprised friends with a cow-suited rendition of “Happy Birthday” on my trombone. I got another suit in ’97 to help raise money for an American Lung Association bike ride with my team called Cows Against Lung Failure (CALF), and the Cows for a Cure were born when we formed a team for the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life in 2005. Five years ago when our 15 year old team member Ryleigh Thomason died of leukemia, we became Ryleigh’s Herd.

I tell people about Ryleigh whenever anyone asks me about the cow costume or whenever I suit up for speaking engagements. I got to tell a bunch of fifth graders about Ryleigh a couple weeks ago.

Last July, I called the school district 25 office and had a terrific discussion with their spokesperson Shelley Allen about school culture, bullying, and character building. Our conversation dipped into funding challenges and schools’ abilities to provide counseling and mentoring services. We could have talked until the cows come home about the roles of parents and schools in the character development of students.

A few weeks later, Ms. Allen told me about District 25’s new CAKE award to recognize outstanding Character and Attitude and showing Kindness and Encouragement to others. She asked if I would be willing to present the award and deliver cupcakes to the student and their class in a cow suit. Me? In a cow suit? I’d love to!

I’m a cow who’s as human as the next guy and my character and attitude can fluctuate with the weather, but by golly, I try to be one of the good humans. Summoning kindness and encouragement at times when they are void can feel impossible, but it IS possible, and I sincerely believe it’s important to convey that to kids of all ages. My young friend Ryleigh would have been a prime candidate for the CAKE award before and during her fight with cancer.

I enjoyed meeting the first CAKE recipient, Jefferson Elementary’s Isabelle Kirkman, and I look forward to recognizing the rest of this year’s CAKE kids. With each class, I hope to celebrate, share a bit about Ryleigh and discus how a little kindness—apparently like a silly cow suit—can go a long way.

A Coming Out Weekend for Mormons and Gays

First published in the Idaho State Journal online forum on October 9, 2014.

With the week we’ve had, I suppose I should be discussing the 9^th Circuit Court of Appeals lifting the ban on same sex marriage in Idaho and the lightening quick response of Governor Otter. It goes without saying—but I’m going to say it—I can’t wait for marriage equality to swaddle the state and provide the safety and security that a marriage does. I’m nervous, though, that when the ban crumbles, my girlfriend will start drumming her fingers and glaring over her glasses with, “Well?”

Don’t wait for me, Idaho. I’m not ready for marriage, but so many others are. Let us have the tax benefits, powers of attorney and recognition of our own unique families. And cake. For goodness sake, bring on the wedding cakes!

I’m not delving into a marriage piece this week because the coincidence of the October 10 “Meet the Mormons” release and the October 11 National Coming Out Day (NCOD) is too remarkable to ignore. I’m a mild conspiracy theorist, so I wonder if this is a coincidence.

NCOD was founded in 1988 on the one year anniversary of the National March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights. The effort merged with the Human Rights Campaign in 1990, and I’ve watched its evolution from scant articles in the occasional gay magazine during my 20s to today where it’s splashed all over social media.

Speaking of social media, between the Mormons movie and NCOD, my weekly newsfeed provided a sweet and ironic blend of my Mormon friends who can’t wait for their stories to be shared and LGBT folks feeling the same. The collective “Here we are! Let’s celebrate us!” was astounding.

It would appear from my Mormon friends’ recent profile pictures and declarations that there’s been an effort associated the latest conference to come out and declare “I am a Mormon.”  I imagine that the encouragement was along the same lines as the words on the Human Rights Campaign website advocating LGBT people come out.  

“When people know someone who is LGBTQ, they are far more likely to support equality under the law. Beyond that, our stories can be powerful to each other. Every person who speaks up changes more hearts and minds, and creates new advocates for equality.”  Be a good example and proud of who you are, and acceptance will follow. Simple.

Critics of “Meet the Mormons” cite the lack of the church’s history of racism and sexism and call it a “90 Minute Commercial for Mormonism.”  I’m sure. When I broach the topic of me and my pursuit for equality, I lead with my own “Meet the Mormons” style of sharing life, love and core beliefs. Despite the heartwarming accounts in the movie or my personal portrayals, the LDS church and I are no different in possessing some good, bad and ugly.  You’ll see what you look for and it’s all there.

I feel the same about NCOD. It’s got good, bad and ugly. Living in a closet with any kind of secret is hard on the heart, and thinking “strength in numbers”, the movement is a great idea. Coming out is initiating a conversation or a series of difficult ones ,and after the courage to come out with anything, an entirely different set of tools is needed  to know how and when to keep the conversation going or let it go.

If someone is pushed or jumps out before they are ready, the effects can be devastating. Look at the Mormons. Before going on missions, they are trained and prepared to face any number of challenges one might when talking about their faith. They are armed with the knowledge and talking points of their teachings and encouraged to find courage.

I am stunned when those in the LGBT community attempt to push others out of the closet, promote coming out without adequate support, or express many opinions at all about someone else’s choice in the matter. Both youth and adults may be in situations where doing so isn’t safe emotionally, spiritually or physically. The path to coming out is personal and private. I’ve walked a mile in my own gay shoes and not anyone else’s.

My favorite image from the week was a Human Rights Campaign ad for NCOD featuring Tyler Glenn of the pop group Neon Trees: “I am a happy and healthy Mormon gay pop star. I don’t know what it all means, but I’m ok with it.”  I’m ok with it, too, Tyler, and wow. You’ve done a lot of coming out.

We’ve all got closets to break through and conversations to have. Embracing a little empathy makes that easier for everyone. And in my experience, so does cake.  Empathy and cake make my world go ‘round.