What I Needed to Hear This Week

Last Sunday morning I met a friend at the boarded-up gas station on Bannock Highway. We biked a 43 mile round trip trek to McCammon. The workout took four hours as we visited, stopped for snacks and took in the green hills that cradle our valley in June. I saw headlines about a shooting in Orlando before the ride, but it wasn’t until I was home and reaching for ibuprofen that the monstrous nature of the attack became clear.

I’m getting married to a wonderful woman this September. She’s beautiful and smart and loves everything about me. OK, almost everything.  We took our engagement pictures this week up Cusic Creek amidst the lush wildflowers, and last Sunday morning while I was biking to McCammon oblivious to the desecration in Orlando, the photos started coming in on my phone.

I expected to have the usual engagement questions last Sunday afternoon: How’s my hair? Do I have a double chin? Do you think people can tell I’ve gained 25 pounds in the last six months as I’ve struggled to balance my diet and exercise plan in this prelude to step-parenthood? 

But instead, we asked each other: Do we really want to announce this in the paper? Are you sure we’ll be safe at an outdoor, highly populated, public reception? Does the newspaper always print the names of marriage licenses? Our wedding planning was interrupted with severe and immediate concerns for safety.

I’ve heard people say “It doesn’t matter that the victims were gay”, and in one sense, I appreciate that LGBT people are included in the general classification of humanity and any loss of life is tragic. On the other hand, it matters very much to me that the victims were gay because it highlights why many of us still live in fear.  When any group you belong to is targeted, it takes on a different element of meaning.

As I went back and forth between news stories and engagement pictures last Sunday, I didn’t need to hear that my hair was fine, my chin was singular and the extra weight looks good on me. I needed to hear much, much more. 

I needed to hear Pocatello Mayor Brian Blad speak at the vigil at Caldwell Park acknowledging our humanity, and I needed to hear the local Muslim Iman offer the kind words and prayers that he did.

I received an email from Idaho U.S. Attorney Wendy Olson. I met Ms. Olson at a community conversation at City Hall a few weeks ago. After an hour long conversation on building community trust between residents and the Pocatello Police Department, a sign-in sheet was passed around to gather emails and phone numbers. I didn’t expect her to use my email address for a personal correspondence in which she began “I am reaching out to check in on members and supporters of the LGBTQ community in various parts of Idaho in light of yesterday’s horrific events at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando. While any words I have are insufficient to describe the magnitude of the horror in Orlando, please know that the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Idaho stands ready to support all LGBTQ persons in Idaho.” I didn’t realize until after I read those words, but I needed to hear them this week.

I also had an exchange with Pocatello Police Chief Scott Marchand. He asked for ideas and discussed ways to build, maintain and strengthen the Police Department’s relationship with the LGBT community. He also noted plans to have officers at the Pocatello Pride event for both community interaction and to add a touch of security so people can enjoy the event. I needed to hear that this week.

Some of the most poignant words I needed to hear this week came in a speech from a self-proclaimed “balding, youngish, middle-aged, straight, white, male, Republican politician with all of the expectations and privileges that come with those labels.”  Utah LT Gov Spencer Cox choked on a heartfelt apology for his past treatment of LGBT individuals; talked of his anger, sadness and confusion over the attack—words I’ve used to describe my own feelings; and he called for “less politics and more kindness.” Great words for any audience.

I know actions are needed in response to the many facets of the Orlando shooting, but actions begin with thoughts and words, and perhaps my favorite words that spilled out on social media were inspired by a stranger’s viral post.

“I love you. I want you to be alive. I will stand with you.” It doesn’t get more basic or simple than that. I don’t like to blanketly speak for others, but I’ll go ahead and say that LGBT people needed to hear that this week.