The Only Constant is Change

I haven't written in a long time. Anything I feel like writing about cuts too deep. I've never been much for sharing and that goes doubly for what happens on the inside. To me most of the time, sharing what's inside is just another way for someone to exploit you. Sharing your inner most thoughts and feelings gives someone else ammunition to use against you. So I just haven't written.

I haven't written how broken I am on the inside some days. I haven't written that broken isn't really the word because the word itself implies that there is something to fix, and in my case, the damage is far, wide, catastrophic and irreperable. And along with irreperible damage comes change. Irreperable, never-take-it-back, change.

A long time ago I had a living father, and a different job, and different heartaches and concerns and problems. I had different insides. Adjusting to all the differents is I think more than I can bear. I miss knowing what I was doing, I miss saying something and being an expert, I miss being able to call someone and feel like no matter what, just because they were there, it would be ok.

And all of this is ultimately selfish. People survive worse, and grit their teeth against much heavier weights. So I just keep it in and grit my teeth, remember my breeding and keep going. I guess that's all there is, keeping going. Change means you're still alive. Without change, all you have left is death.

Legacies

I drove home from Mom's yesterday, and sat in the driver's seat with only the voices in my head keeping me company. For the past week I've been trying to put into words all these jumbled feelings. Much like finding the perfect Christmas present, this takes time and the ability to realize nothing is perfect. Including Dad. He knew this, and worked hard at trying to prove that he could be. I think this is where so much of his anxiety came from was never feeling good enough, and since I'm my father's son, I've been plagued by the same feeling in trying to eulogize him.

I am and will always be grateful for the fact that my dad made sure we could take care of ourselves, that we think about others and that we work hard to take care of ourselves and those we love. We don't lie, cheat or steal. Even though we bitch, complaining doesn't do any good, and just shouldn't happen. Crying doesn't solve anything, but it sure does make you feel better. Take care of your brother and sister, they're all you have in the end.

I see some things from the past week more clearly than others. Everyone pitching in on Wed., when Ben woke up late and needed help with the BBQ. Take care of each other, that's all you have.

This week I saw each of us doing the best that we could. There wasn't any complaining or great gnashing of teeth or tearing of clothes or utter colapse. There was grace and dignity and the resolute squaring of our shoulders and doing what needed to be done. My dad very much lived by the fact that "The price of greatness is responsiblity" and he made sure to pass that on to us.

I firmly believe that the Almighty gives us each of us only the load we can bear. When my Dad didn't have to carry his any further he went to rest. I think he could do this because he knew that he'd given each of us the tools that we needed. He knew we would be able to take care of ourselves, and make him proud.

No words can describe

If you asked him to write his own epitaph Bob Bitner, 54 of Georgetown would have said there was nothing to write about, greatly underestimating his impact. Some would say he led an ordinary life, and certainly from the outside looking in, he did. Bob raised three children with is wife Colleen calling Round Rock home for many years. Bob was a born leader, who led by example and held himself to an unyielding high standard. His example taught his children the value of dedication, honesty, compassion.

Bob was President of Sam Bass Baseball for many years, where he was an example to many, most especially the players. He was a long-term employee of Sieko Instruments and recently held a position with DelStar Industries and was recently promoted.

Bob Bitner did lead an ordinary life, but one full of passion, intensity, love and generosity. What he may not have realized in life was how much of a presence he was for so many. People who find themselves saddened today because he is gone too soon.

Born February 13, 1957 in Galveston, Bob called McAllen, “home”. He is survived by his wife of 30 years Colleen, of Georgetown and their three children Steven, of Dallas, Ben of Round Rock and Erin of Round Rock, also by his parents Bob and Carol Bitner of McAllen; sister Penny Gearhart and husband Mark of Round Rock,; and brother William and wife Sandra of Mission, as well as numerous nieces and nephews and their children.

Where Do We Go From Here?

The suicide of Rutgers student, Tyler Clementi has sent shockwaves across the United States. For me, it has awakened a long-dormant anger. "There are guilty parties everywhere." The question looms: "Where do we go from here?" For starters The Community could try the tack of past civil rights campaigns; from LULAC to the NAACP. If we want the support of Middle America we should try putting our best middle class, well educated foot forward. That makes it harder for them to alienate us. Next, we need the support of our government.
We must stop expecting our savior to come from outside.We must push, prod and bully our way into a fully integrated American society. There is no turning back, there will be no second chance, and we are ruining our chance for tomorrow because gay children all across the world are still alienated, sitting in their rooms praying for acceptance or escape, and when they find neither, they are just praying for it all to end.
"There are guilty parties everywhere," and Middle America is no exception. You must stop telling your children there is something wrong with them, when they hear that everywhere. You must stop making your children feel second class for something they were born with and cannot change. You must tell your children that there are so many different colors and tones to the world than what's in your house or in your neighborhood or in your town. You must realize that the differences between You and Us are only skin deep. There is no turning back, there will be no second chance for tomorrow because your children, your children who happen to be gay are still alienated, sitting in their rooms praying for acceptance or escape, and when they find neither, they are just praying for it all to end.
"There are guilty parties everywhere"

Is This Life Without Will and Grace?

I was a freshman in college, one of the most conservative in the country, one that had a known appetite for queer bating when I was getting ready to pack it in and go home. Aside from my handful of friends from home who carefully guarded my secret, there were no gay people, at least not outside of Gay.com.

"Watch Will and Grace, so you can see what life is really like for us." The simplest suggestion ever. Two gay men who made it through where I was and lived it up in New York. I knew then that everything would be OK. But Will and Grace are gone. The show has been off the air now for four years and even then, it pandered to a few too many stereotypes than real life. Vapid Jack bounced from man to man and Will had such an inferiority complex that he was always too afraid to get a man. Then Will meets Vince and off the air they go. Ironically just at the moment that America is pitched in the largest cultural battle since the Civil Rights struggles of the 1960s. But they did show that life could be as normal as anyone else. Gays can have close friends and find love and really the ladies on Sex and the City still haven't figured that out.

And so gay kids have almost no one to look to on TV today. Maybe that's why three of them have decided to take their own lives this week. The failure is larger than an absence of viable role models on television, the failure belongs to all of us. The parents of that child failed to reassure their frightened boys that they would love them unconditionally no matter what. The schools and public institutions failed to really prevent or assess the extent of the bullying. The Community failed to provide real-world role models. Perhaps we as a Community bear the heaviest guilt. We put too much emphasis on good looks and alcohol and recreational sex and drug use. All too often the twinks and leather daddies overshadow the professionals in long-term relationships with families. Doesn't this give the picture of a very limited reality for gays?

They Gay Community is probably one of the most diverse in the world. It encompasses many different ages and ethnicities, and a myriad of economic and cultural stratas. It is extremely difficult to unify that many people. It is extremely easy to vilify (and accuse) each of those individuals; to herd your children away from them on the street or stare from the corner of you eye in public and mutter your disapproval for something you think is a choice. From my own experience I know being gay is just something you come out with, not something you choose. I am almost positive that these boys would tell you that they were just like you, only a little different. Except because they were gay, and that is still such a terrible thing to be in the United States today, they just kept quiet and decided to end it all now, before they knew how good it can really be.

High Thinking

My dental hygeinist takes her tools out of a snap kit. It's like a combination evening bag/toolbox. She also listens to a Christian radio station. She is really good at what she does. My teeth have never been cleaner. Seems like all is as it should be, right? But not so fast. Yesterday while I was getting my gums cleaned (This is really an expensive form of tortue, like if they could recruit former SS members to do this, they probably would) they gave me gas and novicane. It. was. awesome.

For those of you who don't know, the "laughing" gas basically acts on your body much like alcohol, I even got numb when I had too much, just like the beginning stages of alcohol poisoning. Just like alcohol the gas made me pensive, observant and overly chatty. This is where I go when I want to "chat" out my thoughts somewhat anonymously.

Anyhow I got to thinking of stereotypes. You know, this woman is sitting here listening to a Christian radio station, I've already told her about my boyfriend. I hope my mouth isn't bleeding because I know exactly what she's thinking; gay=AIDS, gay=AIDS, gay=AIDS. I'm not blaming her, I'm thinking; Christian=judger, Christian=judger, Christian=judger. Nevermind that I had to choke out the word boyfriend, and I didn't notice that the music was Christian until halfway through my first appointment. I should also point out that she is really nice. I really like her. If she ever finds this I hope she doesn't hate me.

Now for the point. Staring at that little hard, plastic evening bag filled with goodies that would make Alice Orlowski smile I got to thinking about a dentist that I can never forget. A dentist who killed one of his paitents, just by cleaning her teeth. The dentist had AIDS, I'm not sure if he was gay, and he cleaned his own teeth. He nicked his gums, bringing forth blood and then, maybe on purpose or maybe because he forgot, he cleaned her teeth and re-used the tools. This happened 20 years ago. Now they're dead, long forgotten save for a few old news tapes and paper archives, but that has stuck with me forever. Did they throw out the tools? Did she flinch cleaning my teeth? Why do I hold my breath every time I get a nick or cut, even though I know I'm ok?

I guess it just goes to show that, there is no telling what a person carries with them. No telling what's buried underneath, when it might surface. No telling how long I'll choke when I tell people I have a boyfriend or when I'll finally stop holding my breath at the sight of a little blood.

Texas Our Texas...

I wrote this in March, and have been hesitant to publish it, but thought in light of the fact that Texas rejected in collaborating on national education standards that this was timely.

Two weeks ago the Texas Board of Education sent shockwaves rippling through the scholastic community of the United States, when it voted to reorgonize the social studies circullum being taught to the state’s elementary school children. According to the changes students will be learning more about “conservative values” and less about important non-white historical figures. Say goodbye to Juan Seguin and hello to John Wayne.

The vote not only opens up questions about the state’s educational direction, and its accuracy, but also reveals the socio-economic changes that are rapidly tearing cultural fissures into Texas’ cultural fabric. School children in Texas have gone from being mostly white to mostly non-white in less than a generation. From 1990 to 2000, Texas’ Hispanic population grew by 2 million souls, roughly 30% of these newcomers don’t speak English in the home. The board’s knee-jerk reaction is to change what these children are learning in school to protect against what it sees as a loss of Texas’ cultural heritage.

As a Texan, I was reared on stories of Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie and the Alamo. My people have been in Texas since it was wrested from Mexican control in the mid-1800’s. Learning about these historical events was easy in part because they were bedtime stories at home. These stories not only gave my pride in my state but also insight into what it means to be a good citizen; to stand up against despotism and fight for freedom, values that hold a different weight in other countries.

Much like Margret Mitchell, who was ten when the learned the South had been “licked” in the Civil War, it wasn’t until college when I learned of the brutality practiced by Texan soliders at the battle of San Jacinto, practices that made it hard to think that the Texians were just tired of being picked on. As an adult I’ve also learned that history is never one-sided it just sounds that way, since it’s written by the winner. Since the Anglo Texians ultimately won the battle for Texas Independence the Tejanos who fought alongside them were given the peripheral role as helpers, that’s why a white kid like me found those heroes I did learn about in school so easy to identify with. They looked like me, and talked like me, and that made it all the easier for me to say, “If they did it, so can I.”

Today, I teach 5^th Grade. I thought that teaching 5^th grade would be so easy because I liked 5^th grade and that somehow I’d be just like those teachers who taught me. But teaching mostly English Language Learners in Dallas’ Oak Cliff is a far cry from Deepwood Elementary in middle-class Round Rock, Texas. Not only was a appalled to learn that most of these kids don’t know where the Alamo is, I was even more surprised that they seemed not to care. That surpise gave way to hurt and anger. Three years later, I get it. Why the hell should you care about some white folks taking over Texas. To these kids (and I’m sure the rest of the majority-minority children who attend Texas public schools) all the state standards have managed to do is murder their home language (and by extension the culture that goes with it), test them on information that they don’t have means to access outside the school day and then not supply appropriate support to help them get there. They’re too busy learning how to read period to have time to fool with something that happened 150 years ago.

While I totally understand that those who are sitting on the Texas Board of Education are doing this to protect what they see as the “Texan Way,” I must say that they are wrong. Not only does it distort the valuable contributions of non-white Texans, but it robs the children in Texas’ schools today of role models who might actually inspire them to become productive citizens. If they never read or hear stories about important people who look like them, they’ll never get that chance to say, “If they did it, so can I.” Without even a small thing to invest in, these children who already know so little will have no desire to learn more. You see what the Board doesn’t understand is that the history and the values go hand in hand. Education starts early, and it should be interesting and engaging in order for it to be most effective. Taking out a tool that helps educators to inspire their students (especially in abstract areas like Social Studies) will accomplish exactly what the Board is trying to stop. Taking out this tool will breed a generation of students who have no desire to be Texans, no desire to be United States citizens and no desire to be productive members of society. Will Texas really be great then?