I just returned home from having traveled back home. Let that sink in for a second....and I'll explain:
While I might brand myself as a "Minnie" (-sotan or -apolitan...either works), I'm actually a Southern Missouri girl in my heart and soul...and DNA. My folks met at Tulsa University in Oklahoma and settled in my father's hometown of Joplin, MO after they got married. They bought a house, had a baby (my brother), bought a new house, and had another baby (me). We moved to Minnesota when I was not quite three years old and for a long time I didn't understand where I came from or who my relatives were. My parents' divorce complicated the relationships with my dad's side of the family; I don't remember seeing my nana more than one or two times before she was laid to rest in 1998. My dad had a sister, Elizabeth, who I also saw little of but, as my only aunt, I adored from afar. (My own daughter is named after my auntie.)
Growing up, I understood my aunt and her husband, my Uncle Ken, to be exotic, enchanting people for reasons I didn't quite grasp as a kid. In 1986, they moved to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, to take teaching positions at an international school for Westerners living in that country. They were musicians: my aunt was an exceptional violinist and my uncle played any and all brass instruments. They traveled the globe, they drank wine, they loved good food, they were cultured and they had experienced more life than anyone I knew. They returned to the States in 1998 and settled back home in Joplin--proof that no matter how far you go, you can always come home.
I saw my aunt and uncle irregularly in the intervening decades, but each visit was a joy. I have often wondered how much stronger our relationship might have been if we were not separated by 500 miles and three states.
Fast forward....sadly, a week ago the news came that my aunt had passed away following a long illness. And so I, too, went back home.
My aunt's funeral was beautiful: she was surrounded by dozens and dozens of yellow roses and other arrangements. A fellow violinist played a haunting and provocative piece called, "The Lark Ascending" by Ralph Vaughn Williams. The music will stick with me forever because it captured the essence of life--measures of happiness met with measures of sadness, punctuated with dissonant notes. But what really struck me most of all was my uncle seated in the row in front of me, his thin shoulders shaking as he quietly cried for his wife.
How does a love like this evolve? How can there be such mutual devotion, commitment, and adoration? My uncle did not leave my aunt's side the entire time her health was declining. When she became too ill to leave their bedroom, he brought everything to her. When the time came for hospice, he made arrangements. And when she passed from this earth, it was under the umbrella of his love and care.
He shared a story today that makes me cry as I type it here: not long ago, Elizabeth awoke from a nap where she dreamt that her parents were waiting for her in heaven. But she wept as she relayed to him that she suddenly understood how her death would mean that they would have to be apart. I have no doubt that he likely cried as well, and I can perfectly picture him holding her small hand, smoothing her soft gray curls, and reassuring her that they will find each other once again when the time comes.
To have loved someone as wholly as he loved Elizabeth is not a common thing, and us Palmers should know: all of us have been divorced, including Elizabeth--Uncle Ken was actually her second husband. But seemingly against all odds, this marriage not only survived, it thrived for 45 years. What was the secret?? In part, at least, I've come to understand this: they fully understood each other because they shared the same passion. Music was their lifeblood: creating it, teaching it, sharing it. They could build a life together because they both wanted the same thing. It's not enough just to have some stuff in common--as in, "well, we both like the Olive Garden." Sure, yes, that's nice...but greatness is not built on a sandy foundation. The commonalities have to be bigger, they have to be more central to your identity. You have to feel the things your partner feels because you've always felt them, just as he has always felt them. Your dreams are his dreams because you each had the same dream before you even met.
Elizabeth and Ken were able to build this relationship because the concrete foundation was made out of a shared passion. They each had a dream to share music with the world; doing so together made sense and was only natural. This was their secret, I think. I don't know if I'll ever be so blessed as to find a love like this...but it sure as hell is worth looking for.
Saturday, March 26, 2016
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
A Divided Nation is a Divided Bedroom
What happens when you combine romantic love and the divisive politics of 2016? Well, let's talk about that. Buckle yer seatbelts...this one's gonna take you for a bumpy ride!
A friend once told me that my politics are "just left of Castro." While not true in the least, it gave me a good laugh just the same! I'm a Democrat, folks. Let's just get that out right away.
I come by my brand of politics honestly: I was raised by a single mother who taught me to stand up to injustice and prejudice. She led by example: in 1968, she turned in her sorority pin and quit because her best friend (who was black) was not allowed to join the all-white group. As a young girl, I watched her campaign and door-knock for Paul Wellstone, Bill Clinton, and Al Gore because those candidates fought for the underdog. She taught me to value the common good and showed me that when people are united they can achieve so much more than they can alone. To that end, the late Senator Paul Wellstone said it best: "When we all do better, we all do better."
If you know me in real life or on Facebook (same diff?!), you know in an instant that I am incredibly passionate about governance and politics. Over the years, I've gained friends and I've lost friends because of my political persuasions. I still don't know quite how to feel about all that - there are some people whose friendship I truly miss and others whose absence is hardly felt. I maintain many online friendships with people who are truly 180 degrees politically different than I am and I generally enjoy our debates.
But what about when you've fallen in love with someone from The Other Side? This is where it gets tricky...
My last boyfriend is a dyed-in-the-wool Libertarian. I'm not going to debate the merits of libertarianism but the important takeaway here is that, since there's no viable Libertarian Party candidate for most races, he typically ends up voting conservative. In the past, he has campaigned hard for the uber-conservative Congressman John Kline (MN-R) and always voted Republican in the electoral events that happened while we were dating. His philosophy, like so many others that I talk to, is that of a social moderate/fiscal conservative. My philosophy: there's no such thing because money talks. (That's another topic for another time...)
Let's go back to the idea of voting Republican while being a social moderate. In my relationship with this boyfriend, I was always floored by the notion that he could vote Republican while claiming to support women's rights--especially with regard to reproductive health. How can a person be pro-choice and yet vote for the very guys (and yes, they're mostly men) who repeatedly try to limit a woman's right to healthcare? This boyfriend has three daughters and yet campaigned for Congressman Kline who, among other things, supported legislation to defund Planned Parenthood. Kline's bandwagon support is in line with his previous votes on abortion-related legislation, including voting for so-called "personhood" bills.
The fight for access to women's health clinics and, yes--abortion, is very real and no longer abstract. Republican-led efforts across this nation have resulted in some very frightening results:
Given all of this work done at the hands of Republican legislators, and much of it signed into law by Republican governors, how can a Republican like my then-boyfriend call himself pro-women?
The cognitive dissonance is astounding to me - and proved to be at least the partial cause of the end of our relationship. I simply could not - and still cannot - understand how his Republican voting record meshes with his belief in women's rights. To vote is to speak. All other political issues aside, how am I to love a man whose vote is speech against my well-being? The boyfriend and I went round and round about this: for him, it's no big thing. For me, it's a deal-breaker.
I see it in such black-and-white terms: I'm a woman and I want access to healthcare and equal pay. Elected Republicans evidently don't see that as valuable, and by extension, it's logical to assume that their electorate doesn't as well: Republican voters either don't care or else actively support these positions...and I can't be in an intimate relationship with someone who falls into either of those categories. It just doesn't align with how I was taught to stand up for injustice and prejudice.
The fine print here: I can be friends with Republicans! Friendships are, obviously, a different animal than relationships. Since the majority of tactics in the Republican War on Women (and yes, there is one!) are based on reproductive health rights...why would I invite a Republican into my bedroom?
Since our breakup, this has continued to be an issue for me when it comes to dating. As in...what's your name, where are you from, and how do you vote? Pretty much in that order. My belief in women's equality has driven away at least three guys in the last two months, and probably countless others who don't view feminism as a value-add when it's listed on my dating profile. *shrug*
What are your thoughts? Are there people out there who are in these "mixed" relationships of Dems/GOPers? I'd love to hear your experience and find out how it works for you.
A friend once told me that my politics are "just left of Castro." While not true in the least, it gave me a good laugh just the same! I'm a Democrat, folks. Let's just get that out right away.
I come by my brand of politics honestly: I was raised by a single mother who taught me to stand up to injustice and prejudice. She led by example: in 1968, she turned in her sorority pin and quit because her best friend (who was black) was not allowed to join the all-white group. As a young girl, I watched her campaign and door-knock for Paul Wellstone, Bill Clinton, and Al Gore because those candidates fought for the underdog. She taught me to value the common good and showed me that when people are united they can achieve so much more than they can alone. To that end, the late Senator Paul Wellstone said it best: "When we all do better, we all do better."
If you know me in real life or on Facebook (same diff?!), you know in an instant that I am incredibly passionate about governance and politics. Over the years, I've gained friends and I've lost friends because of my political persuasions. I still don't know quite how to feel about all that - there are some people whose friendship I truly miss and others whose absence is hardly felt. I maintain many online friendships with people who are truly 180 degrees politically different than I am and I generally enjoy our debates.
But what about when you've fallen in love with someone from The Other Side? This is where it gets tricky...
My last boyfriend is a dyed-in-the-wool Libertarian. I'm not going to debate the merits of libertarianism but the important takeaway here is that, since there's no viable Libertarian Party candidate for most races, he typically ends up voting conservative. In the past, he has campaigned hard for the uber-conservative Congressman John Kline (MN-R) and always voted Republican in the electoral events that happened while we were dating. His philosophy, like so many others that I talk to, is that of a social moderate/fiscal conservative. My philosophy: there's no such thing because money talks. (That's another topic for another time...)
Let's go back to the idea of voting Republican while being a social moderate. In my relationship with this boyfriend, I was always floored by the notion that he could vote Republican while claiming to support women's rights--especially with regard to reproductive health. How can a person be pro-choice and yet vote for the very guys (and yes, they're mostly men) who repeatedly try to limit a woman's right to healthcare? This boyfriend has three daughters and yet campaigned for Congressman Kline who, among other things, supported legislation to defund Planned Parenthood. Kline's bandwagon support is in line with his previous votes on abortion-related legislation, including voting for so-called "personhood" bills.
The fight for access to women's health clinics and, yes--abortion, is very real and no longer abstract. Republican-led efforts across this nation have resulted in some very frightening results:
- Nearly 400 bills in 46 states were introduced that sought to limit abortion in 2015 alone - just that one single year!
- At least 10 states require women to have an ultrasound before they can have an abortion--a clear attempt to intimidate women into changing their minds. A major study has revealed that this expensive and unnecessary practice has little to no effect on her decision to go through with the abortion.
- 27 states have mandatory waiting periods for women seeking abortions (Minnesota is one of them). The amount of time can range from 24 to 72 hours. Because abortion clinics have become scarce in many states, this can put quite a burden on women who have to travel hundreds of miles to get the healthcare they need.
- 53 abortion clinics were forced to close their doors to women in need during 2015 - about one per week. This anti-choice website crows about their success in cutting off women's access to health care.
- Perhaps most hideously, Indiana just passed a law that requires women to pay for funeral or cremation costs following an abortion. At eight weeks, the embryonic tissue is about the size of a kidney bean. I leave it to you to make the logical conclusion on this.
- Only one male Republican Senator voted for the Equal Pay Act in 2009.
- In February 2016, presidential candidate John Kasich took a moment to thank women who "left their kitchens" to help get him elected as governor. No, really. He said that. This year.
- Nebraska State Senator Mark Christensen introduced a bill in 2011 that would've provided legal justification for the murder of abortion providers - "justifiable homicide" under the color of his version of law. It didn't pass, but it had twin sister bills in two other states.
- And Donald Trump. The guy is winning despite his open misogyny.
Given all of this work done at the hands of Republican legislators, and much of it signed into law by Republican governors, how can a Republican like my then-boyfriend call himself pro-women?
The cognitive dissonance is astounding to me - and proved to be at least the partial cause of the end of our relationship. I simply could not - and still cannot - understand how his Republican voting record meshes with his belief in women's rights. To vote is to speak. All other political issues aside, how am I to love a man whose vote is speech against my well-being? The boyfriend and I went round and round about this: for him, it's no big thing. For me, it's a deal-breaker.
I see it in such black-and-white terms: I'm a woman and I want access to healthcare and equal pay. Elected Republicans evidently don't see that as valuable, and by extension, it's logical to assume that their electorate doesn't as well: Republican voters either don't care or else actively support these positions...and I can't be in an intimate relationship with someone who falls into either of those categories. It just doesn't align with how I was taught to stand up for injustice and prejudice.
The fine print here: I can be friends with Republicans! Friendships are, obviously, a different animal than relationships. Since the majority of tactics in the Republican War on Women (and yes, there is one!) are based on reproductive health rights...why would I invite a Republican into my bedroom?
Since our breakup, this has continued to be an issue for me when it comes to dating. As in...what's your name, where are you from, and how do you vote? Pretty much in that order. My belief in women's equality has driven away at least three guys in the last two months, and probably countless others who don't view feminism as a value-add when it's listed on my dating profile. *shrug*
What are your thoughts? Are there people out there who are in these "mixed" relationships of Dems/GOPers? I'd love to hear your experience and find out how it works for you.
Monday, March 7, 2016
It's not you, it's me. No, really.
Dearest readers, I'm sorry. It's been two years since I wrote and while that's probably okay by you, it's not okay by me. Writing is cathartic for me, so I've probably been a little bit tightly wound in these intervening years between posts. Apologies for anyone who had to deal with that...you probably know who you are. *hugs*
So....why today, you ask me. Great question and I'm glad you brought it up. Four years ago today, one of the best professors I've ever had passed away suddenly from a heart attack. The week before his passing, I had sat in his office, utterly adrift in my life, and he gave me a piece of advice that I will never forget: "Write. Write every day. Make time for seeing your own thoughts on paper."
(Computer screen, in this case. Call it a generational difference.)
His words roll around in my head and surface periodically like a message in a bottle on the Pacific Ocean. Today, it washed ashore and I read the note...and acted on it.
Also, this: as a single gal for the last five months, I've had some time. And some experiences. And some thoughts. Let's move on to that, shall we? Come along now...no stragglers! Let's dive in to the messy underworld, shall we....
As much as I'd like to say it's the guys out there (and in some cases, it sure is!), the problem is actually probably more on my end. Okay, definitely on my end. The thing is: I just don't want to get tangled up in a relationship. This is very different from not wanting to settle down - it's not that I want to party or hook up or any of that. Realistically, I'm too old for that anyway. But the tangled up thing relates more to wanting to maintain my personal autonomy. My space. My time. My kids. My desire to spend a Friday night reading the New York Times on my phone and not have someone telling me to put my phone down. My want to wake up alone and unilaterally decide what kind of day I will have. My need to decide if going to the gym at 9:30 pm is a good decision or if sleep is better...but knowing that, either way, no one else gets to weigh in on that decision for whatever reason.
It all sounds superfluous and maybe, in a way, it is. But it's also about allowing myself the space to figure out who I am, what I am, where I am going. Having been in a very serious relationship for the last two years, I kind of lost myself: I morphed into this person who was half him, half me. Like Brangelina, only it was my life, not the cover of People magazine. I don't want my identity merged with someone else's. I don't want to check and say, "Hey hon...I'm going to head to the gym. Yes, I know it's late. No, it's not weird. No, there's no one else. No, I'm not mad at you." Woof. Ugh. Gross. No thank you.
This isn't to dog on anyone who is in a wonderful relationship where they have found a way to coexist in a manner that leaves both parties happy. Plenty of people do it and couplehood can be a great thing. I admire people who have found the person with whom they can achieve that balance, especially with the crazy life add-ons of kids, sports, activities, etc. But for me, in my life and my experience so far, I haven't been able to find yin/yang relationship.
Which brings me to this: I can be single and be okay. That's not a self-affirming statement I tell myself each day; don't misread the emphasis. The statement is outward-facing toward others who don't seem to think that I'm okay on my own, or that my life is missing something. It's not. I don't need a man/guy/boy/person in order to achieve my goals, make my home better, make my life better, or otherwise enhance what I have. I have what I need and I'm pretty good on my own. Maybe the right relationship would enhance my life, but that falls into the "want" category...and I'm not sure I can afford that want right now. I love being focused, for once, on my kids and myself. Affording that want would require a sacrifice of spending right now as far as where and how I spend my time.
What us single people do need, however, is for coupled-up people to drop their stereotypes. No, you can't "catch" divorce by hanging out with us singles. My decision to divorce isn't going to worm its way into your marriage and make it die. I just want to be friends with my neighbors and my kids' friends' parents who, it seems out here in my suburban neighborhood, are all married. Just because I don't have a "plus-one" doesn't mean I wouldn't love to hang out with you--both of you!--and have dinner, get a drink, or otherwise socialize. Our kids are friends...so why aren't we?
In the end, the takeaway here is this: relationships are exceptionally complicated - and that goes for the single- vs married-friend dynamic as well. Everyone has to find what fits for them at that point in their life--it's a calculus of time and energy budgeting versus return on investment. Just make sure you're honest and nonprejudicial.
So....why today, you ask me. Great question and I'm glad you brought it up. Four years ago today, one of the best professors I've ever had passed away suddenly from a heart attack. The week before his passing, I had sat in his office, utterly adrift in my life, and he gave me a piece of advice that I will never forget: "Write. Write every day. Make time for seeing your own thoughts on paper."
(Computer screen, in this case. Call it a generational difference.)
His words roll around in my head and surface periodically like a message in a bottle on the Pacific Ocean. Today, it washed ashore and I read the note...and acted on it.
Also, this: as a single gal for the last five months, I've had some time. And some experiences. And some thoughts. Let's move on to that, shall we? Come along now...no stragglers! Let's dive in to the messy underworld, shall we....
As much as I'd like to say it's the guys out there (and in some cases, it sure is!), the problem is actually probably more on my end. Okay, definitely on my end. The thing is: I just don't want to get tangled up in a relationship. This is very different from not wanting to settle down - it's not that I want to party or hook up or any of that. Realistically, I'm too old for that anyway. But the tangled up thing relates more to wanting to maintain my personal autonomy. My space. My time. My kids. My desire to spend a Friday night reading the New York Times on my phone and not have someone telling me to put my phone down. My want to wake up alone and unilaterally decide what kind of day I will have. My need to decide if going to the gym at 9:30 pm is a good decision or if sleep is better...but knowing that, either way, no one else gets to weigh in on that decision for whatever reason.
It all sounds superfluous and maybe, in a way, it is. But it's also about allowing myself the space to figure out who I am, what I am, where I am going. Having been in a very serious relationship for the last two years, I kind of lost myself: I morphed into this person who was half him, half me. Like Brangelina, only it was my life, not the cover of People magazine. I don't want my identity merged with someone else's. I don't want to check and say, "Hey hon...I'm going to head to the gym. Yes, I know it's late. No, it's not weird. No, there's no one else. No, I'm not mad at you." Woof. Ugh. Gross. No thank you.
This isn't to dog on anyone who is in a wonderful relationship where they have found a way to coexist in a manner that leaves both parties happy. Plenty of people do it and couplehood can be a great thing. I admire people who have found the person with whom they can achieve that balance, especially with the crazy life add-ons of kids, sports, activities, etc. But for me, in my life and my experience so far, I haven't been able to find yin/yang relationship.
Which brings me to this: I can be single and be okay. That's not a self-affirming statement I tell myself each day; don't misread the emphasis. The statement is outward-facing toward others who don't seem to think that I'm okay on my own, or that my life is missing something. It's not. I don't need a man/guy/boy/person in order to achieve my goals, make my home better, make my life better, or otherwise enhance what I have. I have what I need and I'm pretty good on my own. Maybe the right relationship would enhance my life, but that falls into the "want" category...and I'm not sure I can afford that want right now. I love being focused, for once, on my kids and myself. Affording that want would require a sacrifice of spending right now as far as where and how I spend my time.
What us single people do need, however, is for coupled-up people to drop their stereotypes. No, you can't "catch" divorce by hanging out with us singles. My decision to divorce isn't going to worm its way into your marriage and make it die. I just want to be friends with my neighbors and my kids' friends' parents who, it seems out here in my suburban neighborhood, are all married. Just because I don't have a "plus-one" doesn't mean I wouldn't love to hang out with you--both of you!--and have dinner, get a drink, or otherwise socialize. Our kids are friends...so why aren't we?
In the end, the takeaway here is this: relationships are exceptionally complicated - and that goes for the single- vs married-friend dynamic as well. Everyone has to find what fits for them at that point in their life--it's a calculus of time and energy budgeting versus return on investment. Just make sure you're honest and nonprejudicial.
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