Innocence Maintained

Let’s just be honest, Jewel isn’t the pinnacle of artistic music. And while I’ve seen her live 5 or 6 times and own every album she’s ever made, she can be that kind of faux artsy best exemplified by most cast members of “The Real World.” And for the record, I’m talking about back when they didn’t just sleep with each other. (Shout out to the New Orleans and Seattle cast!!) She has a voice that grates on most of my friend’s nerves and many of her “deep” insights are trite at best. However, there is a line from one of her songs that has stuck with me. “Innocence can’t be lost, it just needs to be maintained”.

I’ve used that as kind of a personal motto for about 10 years now. I frequently throw that line out when explaining why I can’t watch violent movies. I use that sentence when ranting about how movies are just getting bloodier and gorier because we are becoming desensitized. It’s also one of the reasons why I get my news from NPR. I don’t need to see the bleeding corpses in Afghanistan, just let me know what happened.

I never really thought that my career would be one that made me actively work to maintain my innocence. However, the first phone call I ever made as an adjuster was on a fatality claim where the driver had been killed and the passenger survived. I had no idea. I don’t remember the name of the guy I had to call. I only remember that he was a bit younger than me. I was 24 at the time. I was told to call the passenger and confirm what happened in the accident and make sure he wasn’t injured. It was a single vehicle accident, so I didn’t think that it could be all that bad.

Imagine my surprise when my chipper self is met with a guy screaming “My best friend fucking died in the seat me beside me. How the fuck do you THINK I am?” I got off the phone as quickly as possible and immediately had a little breakdown. I could play the “shouldn’t that have been a cosmic sign to get the hell out” game all day, but I’m still here, so what’s the point?

I had to make a phone call to a mother today. Her son was killed in an accident this morning. This lady must have the resolve of Queen Elizabeth, because she didn’t seem phased at all. I’m sure she’s in shock. The guy was about a month younger than me. I know my mom would be devastated.

I felt terrible calling to tell her they had liability only and I couldn’t help them with the car. I could pay for the fence he damaged and I’d get the police report and find out who owned it. I felt like those things were so trivial. So cold and corporate. I wanted to reach through the phone and hug her and be my usual sympathetic self. However, we had “business” to attend to and that was the point of my call. Plus, my company obligates me to call her back within 2 hours of reporting the accident.

I’m going to visit one of my former professors tonight who I know will be great to talk to about how I'm feeling about all of this. I’m hoping that she will have some wise words to say that will help me deal with all of the thoughts going through my head about all of this. (What have I/am I becoming? How did I end up doing this? How do I get out? Etc.)

But probably more, I’d like to tell a mother that was on the other end of my phone a little while ago, I hope you realize that I wasn’t as uncaring as I probably seemed.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

I will start this by saying that the rest of this post might likely turn into platitudes and I will also admit that it is kind of off topic from the rest of the blog.

The “coming out” process is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to deal with. I’m using present tense on purpose. It was more than 8 years ago that I actually came out to my mom. It was a mess of an over the phone conversation on my sister’s couch one morning. It continues to be a struggle. Once the words “I’m gay” came out of my mouth, she and I reached a never verbalized agreement to just never speak of it again. So, I live my normal life with my friends, co-workers and even the Twitterati where I’m perfectly out and everything is fine. Then there is the life I have with her where we talk and share our lives with each other, except for that one little piece that I withhold.

I started writing this because I’ve just been exchanging text messages with a friend who is coming out to his mom. He is just a bit older than me and has actually lived with his boyfriend for several years. He’s just never actually said the words “I’m gay” to his mother.

I know someone else who is younger and is just going through the “should I or shouldn’t I come out” process. He had worked up the courage to do it a few days ago, but when he saw his mom, she had some other family news/drama to discuss and so he tabled the conversation for another day.

I’m actually really scared for both of them. I would hate for these guys to lose that closeness, that connection and that unconditional love that only a mom can give.

Obviously, the situation may go differently for these two. I certainly hope it does. However, coming out to my mom was the first time I’d ever seen disappointment in her eyes. It was the first time I’d ever felt like I’d truly hurt her. It ended up being a giant wedge driven into our relationship and I sometimes wish I could take it back.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m perfectly happy and content being who I am. I have no guilt or reservation in being what I was created. I just wish that there was some way for me to be that and also still “a good son” in my mother’s eyes. I was watching “Glee” the other night and one of the characters came out to his dad. He was met with a hug and acceptance. I bawled like a 2 year old on the sofa. Wouldn’t it be great if real life could be like TV?

****

Even in 2009 it takes courage to be out, so big hugs to both of the guys I talk about here and to all my gays and the girlz (and the odd straight guy) who love us.

M-A-R-C-O and Marco was his name-o

I will dedicate this blog post to my friend Jimmy who told me this was starting to become jupiter uninspired.

So everyone has their albatross, right?

I think it’s safe to say that mine is the automobile. Since I was a kid I’ve always had a fascination with cars. My favorite toys were my entire laundry basket full of Hot Wheels. Yes, Hot Wheels and only Hot Wheels, I would have never had Matchbox. I’ve always had very strict preferences and standards. My other favorites were my Transformers ‘cuz c’mon robots that became cars??? How frickin’ cool is that? I also had quite an affinity for my Olivia Newton John records, but that’s another post for another day.

I’m 29 years old and I’ve had 6 cars that I would consider mine. In high school, I drove my mom’s car, but I named her so I’m including her on my list. Her name was Tawanda Taurus. It’s more story than you care to hear about how she got her name, but all you need to know is that it is related to the “Fried Green Tomatoes” film and that when you hit the gas the front seat would detach from the floorboard and fly backwards. I’ve also had Corey Corsica, Hiram Hyundai, Francois Focus, Joshua Jetta and presently I drive Marco Murano.

I’ve never felt that any car I had was showy. I’ve certainly never thought that my car would impress anyone and I’ve never wanted it to. However, I’ve gone through a succession of cars and each one with their respective payments. I’ve always said, “when I pay off this one, I’ll be able to quit my job and go do what I really want to do”. However, due to ignorance on my part or poor craftsmanship on Ford’s part, I’ve yet to pay off any of them.

So, now I’m stuck with Marco. And don’t get me wrong, I like him. He’s a big, obnoxious SUV and I should have had to show proof of my family of 5 before they let me drive him off the lot, but I actually traded in Joshua to reduce my payments. But I’m still a long way from paying Marco off and I can’t help but resent him just a bit. He may have a sunroof for when it’s warm out and he may have heated seats for when it’s cold, but he is also a barrier to making me happier with life.

I had a frank conversation with a friend the other day who told me that the only thing that could possibly prevent me from going back to school was “how I’d keep paying for the car”. So, I’m afraid that without some breakthrough that I can’t forecast right now, I’m stuck where I am. I should at least get some Olivia on my iPod. I bet she’d sound great on Marco’s Bose speakers.