Ghosted!

 From Urban Dictionary:

Ghosting

Ghosting is an online term that can have at least two meanings

First:
Ghosting can mean the viewing of a stream/streamer for the purpose of gaining information that could be used to gain an advantage against them (no matter if they're a team or an individual)

Second:
Ghosting can mean the shutdown/ceasing of communication with someone without notice. This can include but doesn't always require the closing or shutting down of social media accounts or ports of contact such as email addresses or phone numbers.

The second part is a symbol of our day and age.  It is more of a pop-culture term to describe when a person ceases contact with another person unexpectedly or without provocation.  Often times, it relates to someone ceasing contact either via social media or electronic communications such as emails.  Simply put, when you "ghost" someone, you suddenly disappear from their life without any explanation.  I suppose that it is easy to happen in today's world of impersonal electronic communication.  You can simply stop speaking to someone because you do not have to see them face-to-face.  It is perceived as "easier" to just stop sending text messages or electronic communications to someone rather than tell them directly that you are not interested in continuing your relationship with them.  Ghosting is a phenomenon.  There is even a television show called Ghosted: Love Gone Missing with hosts former Bachelorette Rachel Lindsay and musician Travis Mills.  Similar to the show Catfish, the hosts help people who enlist their services to find out why someone has stopped communicating with them.  The world of online dating is synonymous with ghosting.  People go on a few dates, one is really not feeling a connection with the other person, and that person just stops communicating.  I suppose it is easy enough.  Online dating has been reduced on some apps to a person taking one look at another person's picture and deciding to "swipe right" and reject them based on one picture.  Our society has grown increasingly impersonal, and this is a big question of cause and effect. Are we becoming impersonal because of societal changes, or have societal changes made us impersonal?  I vote for the latter.  Yes, some ways of doing our lives have changed.  We do not have to shop for anything anymore if we do not want to.  We do not have to shop for clothes, gifts, food, and even medical treatment can come into our homes via the Internet.  When we do not interact with people, it gets easier to reduce others to those without feelings, those we do not need to respect.  In other words, we are failing to recognize others as human beings worthy of our total respect.  Now, if someone is treating us badly, then it is appropriate to ghost them.  If someone was being insensitive, verbally abusive, or disrespected us on a continued basis, no explanation is necessary.  Sometimes it is healthy to get away from other people, and their treatment towards us is complete justification for leaving them.  Some people do not deserve an explanation; others are so toxic that they would use your words against you.  However, that is not what I am referring to in this situation.  Ghosting is the intentional and abrupt ceasing of communication with another person for seemingly no reason.  

Sometimes, when another person ghosts someone, it is not for the reasons that one would think.  On the television show Ghosted, there were varied reasons why the "ghost" stopped contact.  Some people stopped contact because they were in a relationship with someone but were already married with children.  Another episode featured two seemingly best friends, one was gay and the other was so religious that she would not accept him.  It was a painful episode to watch as the religious friend told her former friend that she was in such disagreement with what she perceived as a "lifestyle choice" that she would not even be friends with him.  And yet another episode featured two lifelong friends, one of whom ghosted the other because the friend supported the former President, and she did not.  So, it is not easy to put ghosting behavior into a box.  It is not just about dating; it can be and is often times about friendships.  My mother had a longtime co-worker and friend "Martha."  Martha was a kind woman who did some very nice things for me in the time that they were friends.  She was a friend to my mother, they did things outside of work, and they seemed to have a solid friendship.  Martha also had other friends from the job who considered her a friend and respected her tremendously.  A few years ago, Martha decided that she needed a change in her life and moved to another state.  She let everyone know how difficult it would be to leave her friends behind but asked them to be happy for her because she had been through a painful divorce and needed a fresh start.  They all graciously understood, including my mother.  Since Martha moved, nobody including my mother, or her co-workers have heard from Martha.  People have worried that she was in ill health or that something bad had befallen her after she moved.  But nobody knows for sure.  My mother and her co-workers had the conversation about Martha, and a lot of them believe she ghosted them.  They do not believe she is in ill health; rather, she just moved on from her old life.

A few days ago, I reached out to a friend of mine, "Denise."  I met Denise a few years ago as a result of her job.  Denise was warm, welcoming, and a very down-to-earth person.  She was one who shared warmth and shared her life with everyone.  I immediately was drawn to her.  Denise and I both discussed how we were similar kinds of people, and she brought a lot of good things into my life.  She seemed to value me as much as I did her.  And the very nice thing is that we continued to see each other via Zoom once the pandemic started.  Earlier this summer, Denise left her job due to some conflicts which she did not feel she could resolve there.  I discussed it with her at length, and she even asked me to write a letter of support for her.  It was the first time in my life someone had ever asked me to do something like that for them.  I did it because I felt like it was a friend calling on me to stand in the gap for them, and I was glad to do so.  If anything, it made me feel honored that she thought enough of me to do that for her.  After that, communication started to fall off.  I was the one who made the last contact, and I am never one to pester someone.  We had made some tentative plans to connect, but they never materialized.  Still, Denise was on my mind throughout these last few months.  I decided that I would send her an email wishing her a Merry Christmas and telling her that I hoped she was well.  Denise never responded.  Truth be told, it was upsetting to me.  If it weren't, I would not be writing this blog post about ghosting.  I do miss her and the warmth she brought into my life, the things we had in common that we shared a passion for.  I really do feel like I stepped up to the plate for her and was a true friend when she needed friends to support her.  I cannot think of anything that I might have done which offended her.  And that is the bad part of ghosting.  When someone stops communicating, most people immediately go to, "What did I do wrong?"  They take it as some kind of indictment about them.  But then again, I don't know.  Maybe Denise has COVID or some kind of other illness.  Perhaps something else happened in her life.

This is the worst part of ghosting-the not knowing.  As humans, we have a tendency to go over things in our head over and over again.  We will continue to replay scenarios, remember conversations, and ruminate on what "might" have happened.  The truth is, unless we really know, we will never have the peace of mind needed to resolve the situation.  And we are responsible for our own closure.  Sometimes it happens in life that we do not get to say the things we needed to say to someone or have that last conversation.  My own "guess" is that Denise wanted to move on from her previous life and the reminders of her job. I was likely a reminder, and I was expendable.  Again, I will never know.  Just a guess.  Long before Denise, I always had this saying: "I would rather someone come up to me and say f$&k you rather than ignore me.  At least I know where I stood."  The act of ghosting is, in part, ignoring someone.  I think that in most cases, ghosting someone is just a lazy way out of a relationship.  There are varying degrees, yes.  If you are on an online dating app and are just texting with someone for a few days, there is a big difference between that and a longtime friendship such as the one my mother had with Martha.  Regardless of the circumstances, it is always the right thing to do if you are in a relationship with someone to tell them that you intend to move on, you have moved on, or that person has offended you and you do not wish to be their friend anymore.  That is especially true if the first two scenarios are why you have chosen not to let the person know.  Yes, it would likely upset them.  But on the flip side of things, it is likely just as upsetting for your friend not to know.  

I suspect that I will never hear from Denise again.  Even if she was severely ill or something, she had 5 months or so that she could have written me an email letting me know.  I think she just moved on.  I am upset about it, but I will accept that life goes on.  Maybe Denise was just meant to be in my life for a season, as that old saying goes.  People are in your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.  Ghosting throws a real cramp into that theory, but it is life.  My hope is that this trend of ghosting sees an end.  Yes, we have become impersonal as a society, but these are the ugly kinds of things that happen as a result.  We can never forget that whether someone is a love interest on a dating app or a longtime friend, as long as that person did not treat you in a horrible way they are deserving of your best.  That includes difficult conversations about walking away.  

As for me, when I hit publish I am going to call one of my other friends on the phone and wish her a Merry Christmas.  We have a solid friendship which is going nowhere.  Actually, it is heading for an even deeper friendship as time goes along.  Friendships take time and maintenance, but they are well worth it in the end.  

What Would Tammy Faye Do?

 "You can watch whatever you want the rest of the day, but not until I watch Jim and Tammy Faye."  That was the sentence of the day during sick days and summer vacation days.  It was stated to me every morning by my evangelical mother who loved watching the PTL television show.  Of course, it did not appeal to me as a young child.  It was somewhat perplexing, actually.  Tammy Faye Bakker wore more makeup than any celebrity I had ever seen.  And she was always crying.  Always.  I was not sure why.  And many times, my mother would cry along with her, too.  And I had no idea why, either.  It was a big production with Tammy Faye crying, Jim with his used car salesman shtick always asking for money, threating they would go off the air if they did not.  It was my mother's wish to go to Heritage USA, their theme park.  It was purported to be at the time the country's third largest resort attraction behind the Disney destinations.  Truthfully, it was not mine.  We were drug to church every time the door was open, much more than any child I knew.  I did not like getting up on a Sunday to go to Sunday school, would rather be home on Sunday nights and really did not care to go on a Wednesday night, either.  Religion really is not interesting to a lot of children.  The trip to Heritage USA never did come to fruition, but several Christian families that we knew paid thousands of dollars to them in exchange for a scheduled trip to the Christian themed park.

It was the spring of 1987 when the explosive allegations against Jim Bakker came to light.  I do remember that it rocked the world of evangelical Christianity.  While the Bakkers appealed to Christians, they were routinely panned by comedians and sitcoms.  Those in the media, especially the Charlotte Observer, were already suspicious of their finances and had already reported on the questionable statements of financial solvency put forth by the ministry.  The Bakkers became a laughingstock.  Jim relinquished control of the fledging ministry to charlatan Jerry Falwell Sr.  They appeared on Nightline in an interview in which Jim hideously defended himself, saying that people were out to get him.  One look at Tammy Faye during that interview would show a woman in tremendous pain, almost to the point of not being able to barely speak.  Her eyes, though covered in the usual eye makeup and mascara, were dead.  She often looked down, she never faced Jim.  She sat and stared, barely there.  It was a case of a man dragging his wife out to make himself look better, to present a united front.  But you could clearly tell that Tammy Faye was there physically but a million miles away emotionally.  Jim was sentenced to prison for defrauding his followers out of millions of dollars, and those families would never see their money ever again.  I do not remember much about the Bakkers after that. I had forgotten about them.  I do remember Tammy Faye popping up on some television talk shows, and she had one briefly, but that was about it.  And she did divorce Jim and marry another man, Roe Messner, who also was sentenced to prison for financial fraud.  

In 2005 or 2006, I was flipping through the channels when I came across a show called "One Punk Under God" on the Sundance channel.  The subject was Jay Bakker, Jim and Tammy Faye's son.  At the time, he pastored a church in New York City which was rather unconventional.  People smoked cigarettes and as Jay preached, he would interrupt himself to light up someone's cigarette.  He was tattooed and had plenty of earrings.  Jay was far from his Jamey Charles days on the show.  But I remember thinking how cool this was.  Jay clearly understood that everybody had spiritual needs, and that some people did not fit into a conventional church setting.  A year or two later, Tammy Faye would enter the public eye again when she announced her incurable cancer diagnosis.  She passed away in 2007.  There were several documentaries made about Tammy Faye before her passing, including "The Eyes of Tammy Faye" in 2000.  The documentary saw some playing time after her passing, and I saw it for the first time.  I did not realize that Tammy's life after PTL was so closely aligned with the LGBT community.  I sought to find out more about that, and I found that Tammy had a mutual love and relationship with the LGBT community.  Some of that had to do with her days at PTL, where she cried on television and admonished Christians for not embracing and caring for those with AIDS.  It showed that she cared about what happened to those who were suffering in the early days of AIDS.  Tammy would go on to say that when the church turned its back on her, the LGBT community embraced her.  I became an advocate and ally for the LGBT community when one of my best friends came out of the closet around this time in 2000.  And once I did, I met a world of people who just wanted to be accepted as they were.  Tammy Faye understood that and gave them the love and accepted which was sorely missing in churches espousing the teachings of Jesus.  She did what many others refused to do in evangelical churches.  I say refused because there were horrible people like Jerry Falwell who did nothing but rail against the LGBT community in a hateful way.  

Tammy Faye and I had other things in common as well.  We were both sensitive and caring young women who also had a creative imagination.  Hers came out in puppets; mine came out in stories.  But we both had creative minds and sought to bless others with our creativity.  We both wanted to, and always do, want to make the lives of others better.  We feel it is our calling to care about those who are hurting.  We understand suffering.  Both Tammy Faye and I have been severely burned by people in the church.  That led us both to feel like we were both more appreciated by those outside of the church and recognized the needs of those who we knew outside of evangelical Christianity.  And we were both naive yet trusting young women of the same age when we met toxic men in a Pentecostal setting (that is a whole other subject that I probably do not have the energy to address right now but it is true indeed.) There were some things that were different about us.  For example, she probably cried much more in one week of shows that I would in a year.  I am nowhere near as outwardly emotional.  And I do not have the same evangelical beliefs anymore as she did until her passing.  Was she perfect?  None of us are.  I know a lot of people objected to their wealthy lifestyle, and it is fair criticism.  It was my understanding that Jim was the one behind the excessive gathering of donations from likely vulnerable people.  However, she did live very well off of the donations.  She purportedly asked for a large salary for herself and Jim even as PTL was folding.  Apparently, they never received it as the ministry ultimately failed and Jim was imprisoned.  

Throughout Tammy's life and beyond, she was able to touch the lives of people.  In a time where women were absolutely frowned upon in ministry, she was a kind and understanding face to women.  There are still not many prevalent women in the world of televangelism some 40 years later.  She humanized the other side of fire breathing, hell threatening television preachers.  Tammy connected with not only women but men, too.  She sang and always wanted to encourage people.  On her last appearance on the PTL show, she chose to sing "The Sun Will Rise Again."  Even though her heart was breaking, she still wanted to encourage people.  Her path led away from the traditional church to the people who were condemned by it.  In that, she mirrored the Jesus that her husband and many of their professional colleagues sold to the masses.  In fact, she seemed to be the ONLY one who did so.  Jim wanted to make sure that you knew God loved you but also needed your money more.  Falwell was just downright hateful; Robertson was also a money-grubbing nut job.  Note that Falwell died but raised a pervert; Robertson claimed the ability to alter the courses of hurricanes through his direct connection to God and just recently retired; and Jim Bakker peddles conspiracy theories and found himself in trouble with the law for selling a false COVID-19 cure.  Kenneth Copeland has wealth in excess of $800 million dollars, refuses to pay any taxes on his money and will not travel on public transportation because they are infected with demons.  But not Tammy Faye.  She lived a modest life until her passing.  Tammy Faye made some television appearances and had a short-lived talk show, but she continued her work of making the world a better place.  None of those aforementioned televangelists did anything to draw people to Jesus.  Tammy reached out to those who were shunned by people, showed compassion to those who were suffering.  In that fact, she was exactly like Jesus.  

I think that it is important to note that the legacy Tammy left is still being felt 14 years after her passing.  Jessica Chastain portrayed her compassionately in the movie The Eyes of Tammy Faye.  She said that it was her pleasure to do so because of what a great person Tammy Faye was.  She noted her outreach to others.  I felt the movie was very well done.  My only criticism is that some was fictitious; notably, that Tammy Faye had an affair with her music producer.  It was reported that Tammy Faye was attracted to him, but that the feeling was not mutual.  It was said Tammy was infatuated with him in real life but nothing ever happened.  In the movie, Jim blamed this affair for his discretions with Jessica Hahn.  Whatever Tammy's feelings were it was Jim who made the decision to have an affair with another woman.  Tammy felt alone at many times during her marriage. This story was also corroborated by Jay, who said that he never had any time with his father.  According to Jay, the time he spent talking with his father in prison was the most uninterrupted time he had with him.  Jim was so focused on running his ministry that he really did seem to let his family go.  We will likely continue to hear the stories of the Bakker family, especially Tammy Faye.  Why?  Because Tammy Faye lived an exemplary life.  She lived a life in the way many imagined Jesus to live. Tammy also raised a son who also does not fit in with the conventional church life and yet manages to touch the lives of people that other church people never would.

I am glad that I took the time to understand the crying woman that I really never understood as a young child.  She was a kindred spirit that I never knew personally, yet somehow, I do.  On behalf of those who were touched by Tammy Faye, I say thank you to the woman who shared so much love with the world.  We need more people like her.

Here is a great video by YouTube personality Jen, on her channel Fundie Fridays.  Jen is an atheist who absolutely loves Tammy Faye, as evidenced in this video.  

THE TAMMY FAYE EPISODE - YouTube

Have a happy holiday season!

Where Are You, Mr. Drummond and Daddy Warbucks?

 As of the time I am writing this, a live musical version of Annie was recently staged on NBC for the holiday season.  The story of Annie, the orphaned girl, has been a part of our culture for almost 100 years.  When Annie debuted in 1924, she was a comic strip character.  The comic strip ran from 1924 through 2010, having run through several wars and saw many changes in American society.  Notably, orphanages have all but disappeared in the United States.  In many other countries, orphanages still do exist, but to the detriment of the children living in them.  Conditions are poor, both physically and emotionally.  We understood that and transitioned children into the foster care system, or "group homes."  Still, we have a large population of children 18 and under who for numerous reasons find themselves as wards of the state.  According to child advocacy group Children's Rights, some 443,000 children are in a foster care setting on any given day in the United States.  As of 2019, more that 71,000 children whose parents lost permanent custody of their children were waiting to be adopted.  Parents lose custody of their children, whether temporarily or permanently, based on their ability to care for their children in the most appropriate manner without being abused or neglected.  Children are not taken in haste.  They have to be subjected to horrendous physical or sexual abuse, a substance abuse problem, or severe neglect.  But such cases do exist.  My first experience with a foster child was one of my best friends in junior high, "Linda."  I met her in seventh grade.  She lived with a very kind family who regularly fostered children.  I did not know this when I first met her.  She was always talking about her brothers and sisters, and I remember commenting on what a large family she had.  It was then that Linda explained that they were not her real brother and sisters; they were her foster brothers and sisters.  Little by little, Linda shared the story of how she came to live with her foster family.  She grew up in a large city on the I-95 corridor and was taken into the foster care system at around the age of nine or ten.  Because it is not my story to tell and I value confidentiality, I will not discuss why she was taken into foster care.  Suffice it to say, the reason was awful.  No child should ever have to deal with what she had to.  Sometimes Linda was difficult to get along with.  But that is most children and teenagers.  Truth be told, the friend that was supposed to be my "best friend" was much worse.  And Linda would be fine the next day.  She didn't carry out grudges or drama.  Linda and I went to school for two years before her parents decided to put her into a different school.  I am not sure why, except for the other school had a better academic reputation.  I lost a bit of contact with Linda around that time, but we tried to stay friends.  Linda went without any contact for a while, and then I got a phone call from her.  She went from her foster home into a large group home for girls in this area.  Linda was not allowed to see anyone. She went to and from school, and that was it.  I really do not know why she left her foster home.  It was never understood.  But I do know that her foster parents were stable people and it sounded like a much more hospitable environment than the group home.  Linda told me stories of daily fights between girls, a lot of bullying and harassment, and even a resident emptying out someone's hairspray and replacing it with urine.  It is no wonder that children who grow up in the foster care system or as wards of the state yearn for anything better than they have.

In 1978, the television show Diff'rent Strokes debuted.  A wealthy New York City businessman became the guardian of his late housekeeper's two sons who lived in Harlem. It was a lighthearted comedy, but it was also a fantasy.  Two young boys who were orphaned were whisked away to a luxury penthouse apartment by a wealthy man who cared about them, took care of their needs, and provided a life that children of limited means would ever dream of.  A few years later, in 1982, the comic strip Annie was adopted into a feature length movie.  A young, ragged orphan girl in New York City would be rescued by a wealthy man, Daddy Warbucks.  While the plot of Diff'rent Strokes was not directly tied to Annie, the two show similarities.  Orphaned children were rescued out of a life of poverty by a wealthy man and lived happily ever after.  A year or two later, a sitcom called Punky Brewster debuted on NBC with the same premise, only set in modern-day Chicago.  The fantasy of children being plucked out of a difficult, impoverished life by wealthy men apparently had high entertainment value.  The reality is that the Willis boys, Annie, or Punky Brewster would not be rescued by wealthy men.  They would be released into the foster care system with hopes for the best.  The good news is that while they may not have the wealth of a Mr. Drummond or Daddy Warbucks, there are good families who are willing to take in foster children and provide the stability they need.  But some do not.  I have read countless stories of foster children being treated as second class members of the family.  They were not allowed to sit with the nuclear and biological family members during holiday get togethers; they are often made to carry their meager belongings from one home to the next in garbage bags.  Some get moved in and out of different homes for a variety of reasons.  And their lives after the foster system can become difficult.  There is a concept called the "Foster to Prison Pipeline" which describes the high number of foster children who ultimately end up in the criminal justice system.  Death at a younger age is a higher outcome than those who are in a nuclear family.  Only three percent of children who grow up in foster care go on to receive a college degree, according to Foster Club.  Also, according to statistics gathered by Foster Club, over seventy percent of girls growing up in foster care will become pregnant by the age of 21.  My friend Linda had a similar outcome.  She was 23 when she gave birth to her first child, but the father of that child was accused of murder.  The father of her second child was murdered.  She did have a third child, but I haven't heard from her in quite some time. However, I do know that child had behavioral problems.  Linda attended a few classes at community college but does not have a degree.  She bounced around from job to job but did rely on public welfare benefits as a younger adult.  In short, Linda always struggled.  

I know that I would have fantasies of a loving family adopting me if I had a life like Linda or any other children in foster care.  Sadly, these systems are woefully underfunded and lack much needed oversight.  Most of the time judges or social service workers take a look at things on the surface and pronounce a child to be in acceptable circumstances.  But there is so much more to the story.  Children who are most at risk in our society are still among its most neglected.  A judge cannot take the time to determine if a child's needs are truly being met.  An overworked social services worker only has a little time to devote to each child on their caseload.  Some families mean well and truly care; others are in it for the pay that comes along with a foster child and do not provide anything beyond basic physical needs.  There will not be a Mr. Drummond or Daddy Warbucks for the majority of 

In this holiday season, take a moment to think of those children who will be in a foster home for the holidays.  Whatever spiritual practice you follow, send them a prayer or love.  You probably cannot be a wealthy person who can rescue them.  And because they are in a family setting, you likely cannot donate to a charity which will help them directly.  But if you know a foster family, consider even buying a child or the children in that family a gift.  Sometimes they just need to feel special, that someone cares about them.  That someone cared enough to buy them a gift.  Foster children desperately need dignity.  If you are able, be a mentor.  Ultimately, advocate for them by calling for your lawmakers at each level to properly fund child welfare programs.  No, there are no easy solutions to our foster care crisis.  And no, there are not enough wealthy millionaires who will adopt all of the foster children who need a home.  The care and cure lie within everyday people.  Be that person.  

For more information:

Foster Care - Children's Rights (childrensrights.org)

Foster Care Statistics - Child Welfare Information Gateway

6 Quick Statistics On The Current State of Foster Care – iFoster

43 Gut Wrenching Foster Care Statistics – Vittana.org

The Death of a Legend: 30 Years Later

 Just a few months ago, I wrote about what would have been Freddie Mercury's 75th birthday.  On November 24, 1991, Freddie Mercury passed away due to pneumonia, a complication of AIDS.  Freddie's health had been declining for years, though he never disclosed it to the public.  Just the day before, he put out a statement to the press confirming that he was diagnosed with AIDS.  There was widespread speculation that Freddie did have AIDS, but he was hesitant to share his diagnosis.  Sadly, Freddie purportedly lost his sight towards the end of his life, and he was gravely ill.  

I was in high school in the fall of 1991 and was concerned with high school things.  And as I shared in my last post, I came of age musically when Queen was not as prevalent as they were in the late 70s and early 80s.  I remember his passing, but I do not remember as much as I would have liked.  I was preoccupied with my own teenage worries.  And as I am about to talk about, Freddie became even more revered and respected after his passing.  Thankfully, I do remember that there was not a lot of backlash and unkindness.  Unfortunately, there was no shortage at the time of discrimination against the LGBT community.  People here in America believed that AIDS was a consequence of a "sinful lifestyle" and were not compassionate towards those who were afflicted.  Yet, I do not remember a lot of that.  I just remember a lot of reporting, for which I am grateful.

Right around that time, Bohemian Rhapsody surfaced in the movie Wayne's World and enjoyed a resurgence in popularity in the United States.  In April 1992, there was a tribute concert at Wembley Stadium with proceeds going to AIDS charities.  It was a grand tribute, with Elton John, David Bowie, George Michael, Metallica, Def Leppard and U2 among its performers.  The remaining members were not sure how the band would continue without Freddie, but they did release his final recorded album in 1995.  As the years passed, it seems like Freddie's talents were regarded as some of the best of all time.  He was rated second as the best lead singer/frontman of all time by both Rolling Stone and Billboard.  A whole new generation of fans would see videos of Freddie's performances and realize his brilliance.  I was one of them.  I never realized how amazing he was at the time, but I was probably too young to understand the nuance of performance.  I cannot tell you how many times I have rewatched Radio Gaga's performance at Live Aid since it became available.  

Freddie's life was portrayed in the 2018 movie Bohemian Rhapsody.  While some of it was fictionalized, it was still highly respected and nominated for numerous awards.  Rami Malek, who in and of himself is an amazing talent, won an Academy Award for his portrayal of Freddie.  He stated in an interview that he studied Freddie's Live Aid performance for months so that he could fully get down his mannerisms, and he did.  Even though it was fictionalized at times, I just loved the movie because it was a wonderful, talented actor who did his absolute best to give credit to his subject.  Freddie's music lives on and on through the radio, videos, and online.  His fellow bandmembers contributed to AIDS charities after his death and are still deeply affected by his passing.

November 24, 1991 will always be a dark day in musical history.  No matter where Freddie ends up on any major lists, there will never be another Freddie Mercury.  He was bold, original, and larger than life in his own unique way.  He was comfortable being the queen that he was and dared boldly to bring his style of showmanship to the stage.  There may be some who come after him, but there will never be anyone quite like Freddie.

Godspeed.  You will forever be frozen in time.

Mental Health, Respectful Dialogue, and The Urge to Diagnose Someone

 

Today is World Mental Health Day, where countries across the globe are taking the opportunity to spotlight the struggles, hope, and lives of those who live with a mental health diagnosis.  Organized by the World Health Organization, this year they are focusing on the effects that COVID-19 has had on mental health.  Sadly, things like depression, anxiety, and substance abuse have skyrocketed during the pandemic, with good reason.  People have been isolated, millions have lost jobs, millions of people lost a loved one, friend, or colleague during the pandemic.  All those things take a heavy toll on the lives of people across the globe.  Here in the United States, we have always had trouble with proper access to mental health treatment.  Long waits for providers, difficulties with finding a provider who accepts certain insurances, a lack of providers in certain areas, have all contributed to the problem.  When people cannot freely access treatment in a timely manner, their problems are only made worse.  In addition, we have seen a very sad and unfortunate rise in substance abuse disorders over the last 15-20 years.  All of these things are a crisis, and we need to continue to be vigilant about advocating for those who need treatment.  As someone who previously worked in the field of mental health, this is always a topic which means a lot to me and I will always use my voice to promote. 

There is also a stigma about mental health issues, and while we are doing much better, there is still a long way to go.  Past generations did not believe in therapists or seeking treatment.  Some believed that mental health problems did not exist.  Even today, people are not recognized as having an illness, they are deemed “emotionally weak” or “too sensitive.”  You are told to “get over it” or “pull yourself up by the bootstraps.”  Tune into any sitcom and you will hear jokes about mothers being blamed for everyone’s problems.  That is the perception of mental health to many people.  Some religions such as fundamentalist Christianity and Scientology deny the existence of mental health problems.  You are told that you have a “spiritual problem” and are discouraged from seeking or flat out denied access to mental health treatment.  There is still a lack of understanding about what mental health disorders really mean.  Some people do not understand the difference between normal human emotions and an actual diagnosis in which an individual is struggling so much that it affects their ability to function properly. 

And then there are also the unconscious stigmas.  One of those stigmas is language.  Increasingly, we are using terms in our daily language which are insensitive to those who genuinely do suffer from a mental health disorder. Using these terms do not properly describe a diagnosis and lead to misunderstanding.  This is nothing new, I have heard this language my entire adult life.  People use the words “bipolar” and “schizophrenic” on a regular basis to describe others’ behavior.  To the best of my knowledge, when non-clinicians are using the world “bipolar” it means that someone is having a mood swing.  The reality is that bipolar people do have mood swings, but they are longer and more pronounced than someone without it.  There is a build up to what is called a “manic” state, where an individual can engage in high-risk behavior, go on binges where they spend exorbitant amounts of money, speak rapidly, not sleep, and have a sense of invincibility.  Individuals do not immediately move out of this state; someone can be in a manic state for a week or more.  If they are not treated with medication, it can last over several months.  When that individual does come down from the episode, then extreme depression does set in.  People with bipolar disorder cycle back and forth between these two extremes.  As you can see, it is not just someone with a passing mood swing.  As far as the term “schizophrenic,” I have heard that used when someone is changing their minds about something, acting similar to someone being described as bipolar in which their moods are shifting, unpredictability, and any other unexplained behavior.  Schizophrenia is, in my opinion, one of the most severe and tragic of all mental health disorders.  Those who live with schizophrenia can experience hearing voices, seeing things or people who are not there, and have trouble distinguishing between actual reality versus what is occurring inside of their minds. Individuals diagnosed with schizophrenia can become extremely paranoid as well.  In severe cases, it can lead people to act out in ways up to and including physically harming themselves or someone else.  As severe as this illness is, it is not anything to use in casual conversation.  More importantly, it is not a good idea to label people’s behavior with their diagnosis.  Imagine if you had a conversation with someone and they said, “I saw John today, and he was acting very cancer.”  Or “I ran into Mary at the grocery store, and she was acting diabetic.”  Even though there are certain behaviors associated with a mental health diagnosis, it is important not to personally label people with those terms.  An individual should be defined by who they are, and not their diagnosis. 

Another thing that I see on the rise are people who instantly “diagnose” others with a mental health diagnosis.  I am increasingly hearing people say things like, “So-and-so is on the spectrum.”  Autism has exploded in its diagnosis throughout the past 20 years or so.  As our understanding of autism increases, we find that it occurs on a scale.  Some individuals may have mild symptoms, others severe.  The term “spectrum” has been used to describe several different distinct types of autism.  It is impossible for anyone to meet another individual and proclaim five minutes later that the person is “on the spectrum.”  When meeting an individual with autism, they may present themselves as “quiet” or “withdrawn” but those behaviors can be ascribed to millions of other people as well.  That does not necessarily mean they are diagnosed with autism.  Or they may not.  Individuals with autism can present themselves in many ways, including extroversion. Autism is a complex disorder in which an individual has trouble communicating with others, especially about their emotions.  In severe cases, those with autism may rarely speak.  Thus, it is very important to understand the full diagnosis of autism without immediately rushing to judgement about someone’s behavior. 

Narcissism is a word that is freely thrown around in today’s society.  In a sense I can understand that, because there are certain mass behaviors that could be considered “narcissistic.” Generally speaking, narcissism simply means self-love and adulation.  Narcissism also means that someone is so self-consumed that they fail to see the humanity and needs of others.  Sadly, that is a basic human behavior that has existed as long as mankind has.  It will continue.  In today’s society, people’s love of social media, particularly posting pictures of themselves excessively, could be considered narcissistic.  Even though we all have a right to express our opinions, there are countless millions of people who believe that their voice is more important or more informed than others.  They will take to media such as Twitter, Facebook, or YouTube to let everyone know what they think.  Others have full channels devoted to the exploits of their lives and families.  A lot of us feel like other people’s families are not that interesting but apparently, they are, as these channels do enjoy a lot of success.  You give people a camera and a platform to be seen on, and they sure use it.  I believe that because of this, people throw the term narcissism around freely.  There are thousands of YouTube videos devoted to the subject, and it is something where people tend to pronounce someone as narcissistic.  Most times, it is seen with people who are famous.  So many times over I have seen Bachelor contestants, Survivor contestants, other reality show contestants, etc. being described and diagnosed as narcissistic.  Reality television are not proper demonstrations of a person’s complex behaviors and cannot be taken seriously.  And while narcissism can be a behavior which alienates a lot of people, it often does not rise to a clinical level.  There is an actual diagnosis of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Here is a description of how it is diagnosed:

Narcissistic-Pathology-Quotes-Handout.pdf (drcachildress.org)

 

Because these people have such an inflated sense of self, they will rarely be found in psychotherapy.  It is very difficult to treat for that reason.  There are certain famous individuals who are speculated to have NPD, including Tom Cruise.  While I do think that there is that possibility, it is only conjecture.  I have two individuals in my own life who meet 4 of the 9 criterion for NPD.  Trust me, they are very difficult to deal with, one more than the other.  (How these two are in relationship to one another is something I will not touch with a ten foot pole.)  -foot pole.)  But, I am not proclaiming them “narcissists.”  Realistically, nobody should be diagnosing anyone, either.  Yes, human behavior can get messy and unwanted.  And no, it does not mean that someone with an education in psychology or social work has all of the answers and is on a different plane than others.  But we generally need to be very careful about “diagnosing” others because it is a slippery slope.  It promotes misunderstanding of complex mental health issues.  And it is really not ethical or kind to make snap judgements about people’s behaviors.

In conclusion, how can you best help someone you suspect may have a mental health disorder?  The first and most important thing you can do is treat them with kindness and respect.  When someone is feeling depressed or anxious, they need to feel like others are on their side and care and will respond in kindness and non-judgement.  More importantly, you can encourage them to connect with a therapist or psychiatrist.  If they need you to, go with them to their first visit or babysit their children so that they can go to their first visit and have uninterrupted time.  It can be very fearful or intimidating the first time someone seeks professional help for a suspected mental health disorder.  So, if you can support that person, please do so.  Make sure to follow up with that person and let them know that you are always there to talk to them and will be an ally in their journey towards recovery.  Person by person is how we will create a world in which those who have a mental health diagnosis will thrive. 

 

 

 

 

Synchronicity

 There are very few among us who believe that life is a series of random events.  Different religions and schools of thought call it different things.  I used to hear a lot of, “It’s a God thing!” in my evangelical days.  Spiritual teacher Deepak Chopra believes that coincidences are a gift from the Universe.  As a student of Carl Jung, I tend to like his simple yet effective term at things that are not just random, that seem to be of some sort of higher design.  He called it “synchronicity.”  The definition is very simple, two words that are very powerful-meaningful coincidences.  Carl Jung believed in a level of consciousness which allowed humans to be interconnected with each other and the world around them.  Me personally, I am at the time in my life where I have issues with Christianity but still feel the presence of something.  I like the idea of feeling that there is something operating at a greater level which I do not have to refer to as happening from the Biblical god.  And so, this definition is desirable to me. 

But what really is synchronicity?  It is the idea that two different phenomena-physical (from the world around us) or psychological (dreams, understanding, etc.) collide in someone’s life to bring them some sort of answer, some sort of gift, or in some other way affects their life in a meaningful way.  It doesn’t have to be some life-altering revelation, although you never know what could be.  In fact, he came up with the idea when he was working with a patient.  The patient described having a dream about a scarab-an insect which was more native to the warmer climates than his.  On that same day, a scarab collided with his window, and he found the idea very fascinating.  Apparently, his patient was not responding to her treatment or had somehow become stuck in her progress.  But this prompted Jung to explore the idea, and a positive one, that there are meaningful coincidences in this life that could add enrichment to someone’s life.  Could patients be helped?  Could people find answers to complex problems?  Were things just random on this earth, or was some greater force involved?  Jung believed that such events only helped the person experiencing synchronicity.

Synchronicity can also occur between people.  Some people report “knowing” immediately that they will have a strong connection to another, whether it is a friend, a spiritual person, or romantic partner.  And the ways that those special people come into our lives is not just by mere coincidence.  There was something greater at work.  Some people do have very strong connections to each other and know when the other is having trouble, something might have happened, etc.  People who have strong connections to each other like significant others, twins, longtime friends, family members, can all experience some sort of feeling or knowledge about the other.  They have more than just a basic understanding of what is happening.  They really know deep down on some level not known to most about the one they care about. 

I have had a lot of synchronicity events in my life, probably too many to list on here.  But I will talk about some examples just as recently as the other day.  As far as people, I had an acquaintance of mine who maybe I was not super close to, but I respected tremendously.  This person added something positive to my life.  Unfortunately, they lost their job a few years ago.  When I heard about it, I had this sense that they were going to switch careers and end up in a totally different career.  I even knew what industry it was.  I’ll be damned if it happened, and I wasn’t too far off about the place where they eventually became employed.  I kind of even spooked myself after that because it was way too weird that I had essentially “known” it.  I also had a relative who when they were a juvenile, did something stupid and committed a minor crime.  I was away from home when it happened attending a seminar, but I developed this tremendous headache.  It was painful, and it was like something had come over me.  When I got home, everyone seemed tense, and I didn’t know why.  Nobody wanted to say anything.  Eventually it was disclosed, but my body was apparently sensing something.  And then there were the numerous times which I wrote about in another post where I knew someone was no good, only to have them prove they were indeed no good.  Murderers included. 

As far as myself, I have gotten a lot of wisdom and answers to things that have troubled me, or I didn’t have a good answer for at the time.  But especially of late, I have been shown things that have reflected on how I was feeling at the time.  I have had some very difficult challenges in my life which can sometimes leave me feeling like the future is uncertain, and I was having that feeling very strongly a few months ago.  I journaled about it and the very next night, I watched a television program where another person was struggling with those very same beliefs.  I looked at them and realized that the way they were describing their life was unnecessarily negative.  I could absolutely see no reason for that to be true about this person.  And I realized that what they were saying was a mirror of myself.  I was given that to see that how I was feeling was not based in reality.  But I had to see it in someone else.  That event was given to me, in my opinion, for that very reason.  Just this past week or so, I have had to confront the realities in my life about some of the things I had planned did not happen the way that I wanted them to, and in the time frame I expected.  Some of it was due to bad advice I was given, some was just me making the best choice I thought I had at the time, and it cannot be changed.  As synchronicity would have it, I came across a podcast featuring a famous individual whose life experience had mirrored mine.  And I realized that I was not alone in my experience.  I felt the same way when I saw the aforementioned television program.  If I could sum it up in one sentence, it would be, “You are not alone.”  And how neat is that?  Whoever or whatever had enough compassion to bring me those messages, it sure was appreciated.  Whether that source is the Universe, some sort of loving deity that is not the nasty Biblical god, or something else, I just realized that some force did care to show me things about my life.

I love synchronicity events, and every time they happen, it makes me feel connected to the world around me.  It does make me believe in a higher power, or some force that cares enough to gift us with bigger things.  Believe me when I say, this doesn’t happen all the time.  One of the reasons that I left evangelical Christianity was because the idea that a god was always answering every prayer, every need, etc. did not even remotely come true.  I think times will come and go where we may not have our needs met by a deity, or too much time will take place between the answers we need and when we receive them.  But I still do believe that things like synchronicity show us that life is not random, and that there are special things in store for all of us.  If you are reading this, I encourage you to reflect on those meaningful coincidences you have encountered in your life with the same wonder I have found in mine.  

How They Dealt

 Note: All names have been changed.

Pete and Julia Curtis were my neighbors growing up.  I would venture to say they were in their late 50s/early 60s.  Pete always had pure white hair from the time I knew him.  He was what people would call "distinguished"-a nice looking older man, well-dressed, you still took notice of his looks.  If he looked good, Julia looked even better.  In my entire life, I do not remember anyone as put together as Julia.  She always had her hair fixed meticulously and mostly wore skirts with flowing chiffon and pretty blouses.  I could count on one hand the times that I saw her in slacks, and even those were dressy.  Pete and Julia were always kind to me and the other children in the neighborhood, especially Julia.  They sat on their porch unless it was too cold, and that was a liberal definition.  Sometimes my parents would talk to them and I would join them, and Julia always treated me with kindness and respect.  When I got older, Julia and I even volunteered together for a local charity.  Pete was absolutely the matriarch of the neighborhood.  He was well-liked, well-respected, and had a magnetism that drew people to him.  The Curtis children went to school with my parents and had children around our age.  They were a well-enough known family in my section of the city, and they were well-respected for a reason. Pete and Julia were also very active in their local church.  Julia often took me to her vacation Bible school, and I always enjoyed going with her.  They seemed like pillars of the community.

When I was a teenager, I remember taking a walk with my mother and crossing paths with a very attractive woman in her 50s.  My mother seemed to at least vaguely know her, and she exchanged pleasantries with her.  When we got back to the house, my mother proactively said to me, "That woman that we saw-she is Pete's mistress."  I was taken back.  When I was extremely young, the assistant pastor of our church was said to have had an affair, but I didn't know what that really meant.  Affairs to me were things that you saw on a TV show like Dallas, not real life.  Pete was the first example of me finding out that someone I liked and respected had a major personal flaw.  I remember asking something to the effect of how long it had gone on, and my mother really didn't know.  All she knew is that they were having an affair for a long time, and it did not show any signs of slowing down.

Mae was a relative.  Mae was a lovely, nurturing woman who kept an immaculate home.  I actually thought she might have had OCD because she cleaned her home 40 hours a week.  Aside from being a homemaker, Mae kept an active life.  She was a fan of archery and was actually very talented at it.  Mae also participated in her church and was very close with her family, both immediate and extended.  Mae and my mother were very close, and I often visited her home.  She was always kind to me, I loved sitting in her kitchen and she would serve us food and drinks.  Mae's husband was named Dennis.  Truth be told, I wasn't wild about him from child on up.  I had been around him at family functions when he was drinking too much and he could be rather obnoxious.  He would sometimes give slobbery kisses, and I didn't feel close enough to him to have him kiss me.  Maybe that was part of it.  Dennis was not a real looker by any stretch of the imagination.  But, I figured as long as Mae loved him, and they did have a full life together, that was all that mattered.

At the time that Dennis and Mae were still alive and in relatively good health, I was helping to plan a party for a relative at a local club.  It was an old-time club of yesteryear, the social kind that played music on a weekend and average working stiffs would go and enjoy a night of socializing.  I was working with an older woman named Bea to arrange the party.  Bea was not particularly a handsome woman by any stretch of the imagination.  She seemed a bit rough around the edges, and she was not a very articulate person.  Bea was nice to me, however, and I couldn't say anything bad about our interaction.  When my mother asked who I dealt with there, I told her.  She chuckled and said, "That's Dennis' girlfriend."  I said, "What?" in complete astonishment.  I asked how long that was going on, and she said for years.  I was an adult by that time, and the concept of affairs was not foreign to me.  So, it wasn't as surprising as it was when I found out about Pete.

Over my adult years, I learned that extramarital affairs are a very complex subject with different causes and outcomes.  There are indiscretions on business trips and there are long-term affairs like the ones that Pete and Dennis participated in.  And it takes two people to be in those kinds of affairs.  I realize that many long-term affairs are born out of one partner not getting what they are needing out of their marriage.  But knowing Julia and Mae, they were both such lovely women and I cannot believe that any man would want to have someone else in their lives.  Pete and Dennis were both very different kind of men, and Dennis' girlfriend was also a different type of woman than his wife.  But yet their behavior and actions are repeated by millions of individuals throughout time, character, and area.  Ancient religious texts addressed affairs, considering them sin or immoral behavior.

Mae passed away in 2005 or 2006, and Julia passed away only around 5 years ago.  They were part of the "Greatest Generation" born in the early decades of the 20th century.  There were much different rules for women at that time in our country.  I always wondered, did they know?  If I knew and my parents knew, Mae and Julia had to have known.  Most descriptions that I have heard about affairs is that the partner being cheated on could feel their partner becoming distant, pulling away, exhibiting unfamiliar behavior, etc.  But after years and years, they had to have settled into a "knowing" about their situations.  The bigger problem is that at the time, women were encouraged to tolerate their cheating spouses.  "A lady turns her head" and pretends it is not going on.  Jackie Kennedy was largely considered the classiest First Lady our country has ever had.  She was required to "turn her head" and let her husband have numerous extramarital affairs.  It had to have been humiliating for her.  We didn't have the technology of today that would have helped to bring something like that to the general public, yet it was well documented about the affair with Marilyn Monroe.  Jackie always conducted herself as a debutante should, and part of that was always putting on a face to the public.  But whether you were Jackie Kennedy or a housewife, you were required to be a "good wife" and put your shame and feelings aside.  And if the First Lady had to do it, then it was fine for everybody else.  That was so wrong.  Think of the Tammy Wynette song, "Stand By Your Man."  I have yet to hear a song called, "Divorce His Philandering Ass."  It was somehow considered virtuous that a woman stand behind a cheating husband.  When I think about this, who made these rules?  There has never been a shortage of patriarchy in American society. It was probably very convenient for men to be able to have these arrangements without it going against the grain of society.  Sadly, in those days, women did not have educations like subsequent generations of women and the options of work and self-support.  You might have been "stuck," especially if you had children.  This was a vicious cycle.

I do not know if Mae or Julia ever knew about their husbands' longtime affairs.  And for some people, no matter what gender they identify with, it may be acceptable to them.  We don't know.  Some individuals may know about their spouse's other partner and as long as they come home to them at the end of the night and give them some sort of at least physical security and care, they may not mind.  But, we are not talking about those kinds of marriages here.  We are talking about the overwhelming rule that women had to turn their heads and allow their husbands to have affairs. And that needed to be acceptable.  It should NEVER have been acceptable.  Most people who marry for love and in good faith are devastated by their partner's affair.  It is shameful that women were made to deny their grief, "hold their head high" and just pretend it was not happening.  I am grateful that we live in a different time now.  Divorce has become normalized in our society, and even though it is not ideal, it is sometimes necessary.  People are delaying marriage and seem to realize that you do not have to settle on a partner, that it is okay to wait for the right person rather than marrying at an assigned age or time as previous generations did.  Nobody, regardless of gender, needs to tolerate someone who does not take their marriage vows seriously.  I do believe that sometimes genuine accidents do happen, and I will be the first to acknowledge that making a vow to remain faithful when that meant maybe 60 or more years of your life may have been difficult.  But I also do believe that commitment and love are to be reciprocal.  If your spouse is giving their best, you need to give it return.

As for Mae and Julia, I will remember them fondly for the wonderful, kind, and classy women that they were.  

20 Years Later Part 2

 For the first part of this post, please go to: 

I woke up Wednesday morning in shock as most of us did.  Was this a bad dream?  Did this really happen the way that it did?  Are thousands of people missing and dead?  Some of my thoughts were with the people of the wonderful organization that I worked with.  Even though the likelihood of them being in the towers or near the area were slim to none, I hoped that everyone was okay.  So, I decided to call them.  It was quite eerie.  I got the three tones at the beginning of the call where your call cannot be completed as dialed.  But instead of first saying, "Please try your call again later" it said, "Your call cannot be completed due to an emergency in the area."  I would try again several times over on Wednesday, and I got the same message.  It seems like everyone just sat and watched coverage of the search and recovery work.  It seemed like all any of us could do.  It was hard not to look away from it.  The day before, many television stations suspended their coverage due to the national emergency, and it seemed like a lot of it was out of respect.  I went to bed on Tuesday night needing to watch an episode of I Love Lucy because everything was so overwhelming.  But as soon as I got up, I needed to just tune back into the coverage, because there were so many answers that we all needed to know.  Were people being found?  At the time, no.  Frantic loved ones were on any station they could get with pictures of their family members who were missing.  I saw some posters where the people were from Cantor Fitzgerald, and they said they were on the upper floors.  Sadly, we all probably knew that they did not make it because it was above the impact zone.  The whole world stopped.  Sporting events were canceled, schools were revisiting safety issues.  There were many pressing questions: would this happen again?  What would be the targets?  It did not seem safe to gather in large groups when we did not know if there were more attacks planned.  The most surreal part was that air travel came to a complete halt in the United States.  The sky was so quiet.  I never in my life looked up and did not see any contrails.  There was just an eeriness about the whole thing.  Everything that was happening seemed more like the plot of some bad thriller rather than reality.  But it was reality, and I am not sure that anyone was prepared for it.  I tried a few times again on Wednesday and Thursday to get through to my organization, but I got the same message over and over again.

On Friday morning, around 9:30, I tried calling the organization again.  Finally, someone picked up the phone.  It was a newer worker, so I introduced myself and said, "I am so sorry about what happened."  No sooner did that come out of my mouth than I started sobbing.  All the emotions that I felt over those past few days had come to the surface.  The woman was very kind and told me that it was okay, that many others who worked with them called and said the same thing.  She was very comforting.  The woman informed me that each night, a group of the core workers were going to Ground Zero with food, blankets, and water for the first responders.  I felt a sense of peace, because I knew that those very special people would be able to show the first responders love and compassion.  Maybe they would just talk to them, maybe they didn't have to say anything.  But, they would be there meeting someone's need.  After I got off the phone, I watched a national memorial service from Washington, D.C.  I was an evangelical Christian at the time, and Billy Graham was preaching.  He said that where the people were was so much better than earth, we would not want them back.  I suppose at the time that I found solace in what he said, although what a horrible way for people to have to go there.  Even then, I had my doubts and questioned the goodness of "God."  I certainly questioned what happened that day, why so many good and innocent people had to perish.  I never was one to say unequivocally that God was always good and that you could never question.  But that's a whole other story.  I got an email sometime earlier that said a national memorial was going to happen that night at 7 p.m. local time.  People were encouraged to light a candle and stand on their front porch.  So, I did.  I looked up and down my block and several others were as well.  I remember a group of boys in a car going by, cheering and yelling how they loved our candles.  

The next few weeks and months even though painful seemed like some very rich times.  We got to the VERY best of our country, our people, and how much they could rise to the occasion.  I saw so much kindness extended to the victims' families, especially their children.  Athletes were inviting them to be their guests when sports resumed.  I will never forget when NASCAR resumed racing at Dover, Delaware.  Lee Greenwood came and sang God Bless The U.S.A. It was a very special moment.  And then there was the resuming of baseball in New York.  Mike Piazza famously hit a homerun in the Mets first game back and was very emotional.  Everyone needed to feel a sense of normalcy, we needed to be reminded of the good times and simpler things that made our country great.  I saw story after story of citizens reaching out to others, being good to the victims' families, and even strangers who were not affected.  I felt a sense of comfort among all of the sadness knowing that so many people were pulling together.  We really were a unified country.  I remember that even though I was far removed from the loss of a loved one, it was still hard to feel happy and cheerful during the holidays.  It did not feel festive when so many others were suffering.  For my birthday, I was given a beautiful picture of the Twin Towers.  The morning of Christmas, I looked at them and prayed for all of the victims' families.  The holidays passed into winter, and then the spring.  Cleanup of the World Trade Center site was finished ahead of time.  I remember watching the ceremony.  Even now, 20 years later, some victims' remains are being identified for the first time.  

Nobody will EVER forget 9/11 if they were alive that day and old enough to realize what happened.  It was so affecting to me because it affected the city which was my second home.  I often wondered if I had crossed someone on the street, or spoke to them, or maybe been in their presence in some way who lost their life.  Those of us who did not lose a loved one eventually moved on from the grief we felt.  However, I cannot imagine what it is like to have to live the rest of your life having your loved one perish in such a horrible way.  I realize that those people who lost their lives would want for their survivors to be able to live and have a full, rich life because they are not able to anymore.  But I just cannot fathom how that would be possible.  As for the larger questions, I look back at how unified we were and wonder how it all became so lost.  We all have our theories.  But I wish, like many millions of other Americans, that we would get back to that sense of unity.  And I genuinely hope that we do not have another event like that to force it to happen.  In many ways, COVID was that event, and we are not a united country any more.  

My wish is that for those who continue to be affected, both physically and emotionally, that they will be able to at least find peace and physical wellness.  If I could talk to them directly, I would assure them that they are certainly not forgotten, nor their loved ones.  Plenty of us still care, and we will ALWAYS remember.  

20 Years Later Part 1

 New York City was a place that appealed to me as a young child.  Even though I had yet to visit, its mystique in movies, television shows, and the news made it seem like a magical place.  In 9th grade, I finally got to go for our class trip.  The minute we crossed through the Lincoln Tunnel into the city, I could feel the city's energy.  It was nothing like I ever got to experience before.  It felt alive, and so did I.  Our first destination that day was to the World Trade Center.  I didn't know much about it, I was more familiar with the Empire State Building.  But I was told it had great views, and everyone seemed excited.  That included me, until I realized we would have to ride a large express elevator to the 107th floor.  I had an elevator phobia when I was younger, and when we got there, I started to panic.  The lobby of the South Tower was beautiful-very pristine, flags surrounding the courtyard.  I would watch as hurried people got on the elevators to ride to their offices.  It was quite a bustling place.  I decided that I would be fine there just observing the workers rather than taking that big elevator up 100 stories.  When I asked the teacher in charge, he said, "Absolutely not, I am not letting you by yourself in New York City."  Fine.  I asked my best friend to stay down with me, and she agreed.  When I approached him about it again, he bluntly responded, "You're both going."  So, I joined the rest of the group and was zoomed away in the large freight elevator.  It was amazing how quickly it moved. In a little over a minute, we were at the observation deck.  When I got out of the elevator, I was fine.  I walked over to those famous oblong windows and looked down below me.  I could see some of the bridges, and it really didn't seem that far up, all things considered.  My teacher made a point to come over and check on how I was doing.  Happy and smiling, I said I was enjoying myself.  "See?" he said with a knowing smile.  I will always be grateful to him for pushing me beyond what I thought were my limits.  I had a chance to be in that beautiful tower on a nice early June morning.  I would go back to NYC the following year for another trip to a Broadway show.  And when I graduated from high school, my real mission to the city began.  One week after I graduated, I took a trip with my church to an organization which worked with the homeless throughout the city.  They were aligned with different charitable organizations. We worked in soup kitchens in the day, both inside and outside, and at night we would go out to Manhattan and pass out food, water, and blankets to those who were living on the streets.  It may have been one of the most significant weeks of my life.  Not only did I have the chance to see beyond my middle class upbringing, I got to truly understand things like suffering, poverty, untreated mental health issues, addictions, and the ineffectiveness of our country to properly deal with those who were falling through the cracks.  I would go back many times after that until I started to experience some health problems which made it difficult for me to go.  I fell even more in love with the city and its people.  It was my home away from home.  Part of me was always there.  

On the night of September 10, I was having a conversation with a good friend of mine about anxiety and phobias. I told her that sometimes it didn't make sense to me because I was struggling with panic attacks at the time and that I had been to the top of the World Trade Center.  The next morning, I woke up right around the time the first plane had hit the North Tower.  I knew nothing about it and turned on the show I would always watch to start my day-Little House on the Prairie.  The phone began ringing and ringing, and I got a call from a relative in the medical profession saying what happened. The medical communities up and down the East Coast were already on alert because they were expecting a mass casualty event which might cause non-emergency patients to be fanned out to other hospitals along I-95.  I turned on NBC and saw both towers on fire. I just thought there were two unrelated fires.  Then, I heard the commentary that two planes had hit the towers and that it was a terrorist attack. Everything after that started to unfold part like the plot of a movie and equally as horrific. It seemed like chaos-rumors of planes going missing, our nation's capitol in an evacuation crisis, people on the streets of NYC staring in horror.  It was confirmed that another plane hit the Pentagon and yet another one was still missing.  It also seemed like we were moving into mass hysteria.  Locally, there were rumors of low-flying planes passing over parts of our county.  Nationally, there was speculation on what was happening and the newsmakers thought that this could be a coordinated attack that was going to continue well into the day.  I got a call from a friend of mine who was living in Houston at the time.  Their emergency service was headed to NASA.  After that, I called my friend who I spoke to the night before and told her what was happening.  She had no idea as she was working in a small church office, and all she had there was a small radio.  But she listened along until the wise reverend, who was now in his senior years and had seen a lot of life, came into the office.  He was burdened by what he had seen, and she got to have a meaningful conversation with him about what was happening.  I told her how fortunate she was to have someone that wise to somehow make sense of the thing that made no sense whatsoever.  I was still talking to family members at their respective offices, some who did not have access to a television.  All the while, I was watching as the Pentagon was on fire, the massive black smoke, ambulances and emergency personnel carrying people away.  The coverage would shift back to New York City, where everyone was racing to control the chaos.  Early on, you saw a lot of firefighters driving past the reporters.  There was a lot of information going around, loads of speculation, but the towers were still standing.  The discussion was how to safely evacuate the people.  

And then it happened.  Part of the South Tower toppled to the side and the rest of the tower collapsed.  I was stunned.  People were running, journalists were ducking the cloud of dust overtaking them, and people were re-emerging covered in layers of heavy dust, choking, injured, and completely worn out.  I saw people literally running for their lives.  It almost did not seem real.  As we were trying to process what had just happened, the news came that a plane crashed in suburban Pittsburgh.  I was very concerned because an entire part of my family lived in suburban Pittsburgh.  Were they safe?  By 10:05 a.m., everything seemed like a nightmare, and there was no sign of it stopping.  Thankfully, all flights were ordered grounded and none were allowed into the United States.  But we still didn't know a lot.  It was slowly starting to sink in that there was going to be massive loss of life, that good, innocent people were killed in barbaric fashion.  It was still hard to process.  I felt like I was in a Twilight Zone episode, it almost didn't seem real.  Not in our country.  As journalists were trying to merely keep up with the news, there was just a casual observation that based on what just happened, the North Tower might be in jeopardy of falling down as well.  The camera I was watching was focused on the North Tower from a few blocks away.  I thought that I was seeing the transmission pole at the top of the building starting to move, and then it stopped.  All of a sudden, I saw it shift and start to move down as the North Tower imploded.  I almost could not believe it.  I yelled out, "Oh my god, that one collapsed too!"  The situation went from chaos to grim.  It seemed to get very quiet, and I will never forget the words of a stunned Tom Brokaw.  "The World Trade Center is...no more."  He talked about how there would be a massive loss of life and wondered how it could be managed.  It was downright chilling.  As journalists continued to cover the situation as best as they could, you could hear these high-pitched whistles going off.  I wasn't sure what they were.  It was later explained that they were whistles issued to members of the FDNY.  The part was that was so haunting is that you could hear them as reporters navigated through the debris.  The people they were assigned to were not there.  

As the afternoon moved along, those of us outside of the affected areas sat in stunned silence.  We were angry, on the verge of tears, already ready to retaliate and bring to justice whoever did this.  Several groups claimed responsibility, but it was believed to the work of Osama bin Laden.  Frantic family members began asking if anyone had seen their relatives.  A massive evacuation of lower Manhattan was underway while brave members of the FDNY began to search among the rubble for any survivors.  Initially, it was believed there would be a slew of survivors; they were few and far between.  One hour turned into the next.  By evening, we were starting to learn about some of the people who lost their lives.  I was immediately drawn to the story of Father Mychal Judge, the FDNY chaplain who lost his life as he prayed for people inside the South Tower.  Then I learned that David Angell and his wife were aboard Flight 11.  David Angell was a talented writer from many hit shows and was currently working on my favorite sitcom Frasier.  I couldn't believe it.  The man responsible for helping us laugh a little bit each week and forget our troubles had such a violent death.  The widow of Anthony Perkins, Berry Berenson was also on Flight 11, as was former NHL player Ace Bailey.  Family members with pictures of their loved ones clamored for time, asking the public to call if they had any information on their whereabouts.  A wall was gathering with their photos as well.  I spoke a bit to my friend who I told just the night before about the World Trade Center.  She said that it spooked her that day and wondered if I had some kind of premonition or something.  I said no, and I desperately wished that it was the only conversation I would have about it.  

I went outside as I always did around 11 p.m.  September evenings are the perfect time to look at the sky-the nights are getting cooler, and that whole day was referred to in aviation as a "severe clear."  The night was just as clear as the day.  There was a small sliver of the moon, it was in a crescent phase.  I just sat and stared at it.  Our whole world had fallen apart.  Yet the moon was still there-it was a constant.  The whole world could be falling apart, yet we would always see the same moon and stars.  I suppose I looked to the sky for answers, but there were none.  It is ironic in that for anyone like myself who sat out that night, the sky was the thing that morning which played such a big role in the tragedy.  Innocent people traveling to see loved ones, going on class trips, traveling for business, people who just thought they would have a routine flight and would be picked up at the airport by their loved one, met their fate in such a cruel and agonizing way on board those planes.  I went back in and would try and fall asleep but like many, I couldn't.  

The second half of this reflection will continue in part 2.