You Oughta Know My Fight Song

Many years ago Alanis Morriset released a song called "You Oughta Know" and I liked that song. It was once panned on a radio station that I listened to as "The Psycho Bitch Song". I chuckled at the time as it being something clever, but I have long since rethought that position.

The song is reportedly about Alanis' affair with David Coulier of Full House fame. Not having been in an affair or really knowing the mechanics of that kind of relationship, there is a lot of information in the song that I can't empathize with. However, this is a song of a woman wronged. Those are genuine emotions being described. She has been used and discarded. She has every right to complain about the lack of respect and care that she has been handed. I've tried most of my life to be respectful of the women in my life, most of the time being completely amazed by them, but there have been selfish times where I didn't act properly, said things I shouldn't have. I can't imagine doing it on this level.

Recently another song has come out by another woman titled "Fight Song". Another song of empowerment (without a man in the picture at all, which is great). I have spent a good deal talking and writing to women who have come out of a patriarchal organization and I'm still fascinated by how incredible the transformation of these women are reclaiming their lives. It has given me a lot to think about and how I don't want my daughter to be in a position to have her life and goals in any way lessened by anyone or anything.

Huh. You know, I had a stalker in college. I called her that most of my time since. I've since learned how unfair that was. I know by my own experience how powerful expectations and failed results, for that matter, can work on a person and push them a bit over the edge. Yeah, I was a good date and I had that magic "Returned Missionary" label. I felt my mission was a failure because of my depression and my inability to sell God with any success. As I was pushed towards a mission most of my teen years, she was pushed to marriage and only to an RM. If you want to get to heaven, you need to do that. God, what a thing to live with. So here I was a guy right off the mission who had a good year previous to think about how to date and be someone that a woman wanted to be around. She hadn't dated much at all and I was more than willing to listen to her. We could vent our frustrations to each other. She saw me as the one. I'm sure she felt levels of panic when I went out with someone else.

It didn't end well. She threatened someone else I was seeing, not even dating really. I understand what it is like to see expectations fall around you and being impotent to do anything about it. Why it took me years to realize it, I am truly sorry. It doesn't excuse the threats, but I now understand it. I hope she found a way to be happy. I hope she realized her potential, and that her life and happiness isn't tied around the expectations of a man or of an institution that tells her how to live her life.

I hope that my daughter finds her own fight song, and doesn't put up with any male dominated crap. I want to to be happy with who she is and make the decisions for her own life, for her own happiness. I want her to be strong. I want all the women in my life to be strong. It is so much more interesting that way.

You Oughta Know
Fight Song

Do Not Remember Me as a Keeper of Secrets

For my last road trip of the season, I decided to take a slightly familiar road. I have long since run out of unique ways to reach the Mississippi River from my home. The default road has been and always will be familiar at this point. I can feel the complacency of Autumn slide up next to me and my yearning for difference starting to wane. I guess that is to be expected, but I still resent it.

I start my ride south and west along a now memorized road. I stop and take some photos of the remnants of the passage of a tornado earlier in the year; the restaurant that stood here now a memory. I curse my memory for not remembering to bring earplugs to quiet the roar of air in my ears. I stopped at a hardware store to pick up some.

Farther south I stop on the interstate bridge and take a picture of the canal underneath. That was the canal I biked earlier this year, putting an end to a 5-year desire to traverse its length. I go by the ditch I fell into the year previous on my trip along the length of the Illinois River, the source of a well read blog post of mine. I quickly turn onto a road that travels through Bradford. It holds some unique memories. On one of the family's trips to Nauvoo, we stopped to let Hayden play in a playground there. For some reason, it has burned itself into my memory and I feel compelled to visit it on occasion. This road is also unique in that it sports one of the few tree-covered stretches of road in Illinois. It also holds some unique abandoned buildings and some amusingly named rivers. I pass the church where the police have a speed trap and I continue my journey towards Nauvoo. I stop briefly at a road along the bluff where Hayden and I coasted down to the valley, hitting 70 mph from a stop at the top of the bluff.

I go to Nauvoo with some bittersweet memories. Tracy and I have tried to spend at least some time there every year of our time in Illinois. We had anniversaries and camping trips with the kids. I watched the Temple site go from a hole in the ground to a new temple. I spent a few weekends as a tour guide during the open house and Tracy and I had the opportunity to go through as Patrons once. That becomes hard to do once you have young children. Mostly we came to camp at the state park there once we became parents. When I arrived, I made my obligatory trip through the state park as it had changed slightly from earlier trips. I pulled the bike into the parking structure and changed into my street shoes. I took a trip around the temple, taking pictures along the way. I then headed up the street for my real goal, my present to myself, ice cream from Grandpa John's. I know I've eaten here before but I can't recall ever eating ice cream. I ordered a raspberry shake and vowed to send a photo to George in our continuing saga of shake pics. Don't ask. Another persistent memory I have of Nauvoo is when I traveled here once with my parents and my dad ordered a beer, Coors, from a restaurant that no longer is in town. He was told that he was on the wrong side of the river for that as Coors is only found on the West side of the Mississippi. Even in a town on the river, I felt the other side was still prohibitively far away. Funny how some things stick with you.

As I sit on a bench eating my shake, a treat that is getting rare in my post-diabetes life, I contemplate my last camping trip here. I was in the middle of one of the most challenging times of my life. My faith was slipping away because of the studies I made of church history. I had determined that it wasn't intellectually honest of me to avoid all the negative histories of my faith. These were histories written by faithful members but I discounted them because they didn't fit the way I wanted to view the church. I had known some of this for a very long time, but I never let the implications sink in. I didn't let the truth of it all to register because of what I used the church for. I had known that Joseph Smith was polygamous. I had known that he lied to Emma and the Church about it. I had read a decade earlier the text of The Nauvoo Expositor, the paper that Joseph destroyed and eventually led to his death, and found no untruth in it. Still, I didn't let it register. Only recently did I study about his coersion of families and women as young as 14 to marry him. If you were a female and served as a nanny or foster-daughter in his home, there was a good chance a sexual relationship would occur. I couldn't help but read Section 132 and its treatment of women as reward as something more and more foreign and unwilling to accept. I knew that if what was documented by faithful members at the time was happening to me, I would have Joseph arrested. It was an inescapable conclusion for me.

I had read about the origin of the temple and Joseph's connection to Masonry. I had read about the origin of the endowment and it's connection to Blue Lodge Masonry. Much I had already known but it didn't fit what I needed, what I had desired from the church, so it didn't register. Even now, the subtle untruths of the reconstructed city of Nauvoo grated on me. The avoidance of calling some of the buildings after their purpose irritated me. The Seventies Hall was a Masonic Temple. Joseph had tried unsuccessfully to get a master lodge in Nauvoo and so the endowment was established in the church's temple.

The unjust persecution of the church became something a bit more understandable. There was disenfrachisement of the native population and having a militia in Nauvoo as large as the standing army of the entire US was something that would worry me too. No, it wouldn't incite me to be a mob member but I also understand human nature a bit more than I used to.

I remember on that trip looking over to Tracy at some point and saying "Do you know all that went on here?" I don't recall a response, but it became so difficult for me to be there, I didn't forsee many trips to this place in the future.

So we weathered the storm that was our marriage for a year or so. We are now at a better place and I can believe in the person I've become. I'm sitting outside the temple completely comfortable with that arrangement. I'm saying goodbye. I don't know if I'll be by this way again. I don't need to be by here again. Aside from memories, this place has no hold on me any longer. I grieve a bit. This place loomed large in my life for some time. Now, it is a place on my travels through life.

After a short stop in Ft. Madison where I enjoy some quiet time by the river and watch trains crossing the bridge, I head home again. Life goes on, and so must I.

*Title of this post is taken from an adaptation from a line of the poem Movement Song by Audre Lorde, for no reason in particular.

Things Change

I had lunch with a friend of mine yesterday. I always enjoy my time with him and I really enjoyed the times we've worked together. We have lunch occasionally to catch up. It isn't a particularly deep conversation that we have, but it is interesting. We talked about work and what we are doing now. There are a lot of things happening at Motorola so I fill him in on what some of them are. We get to our personal lives a bit later.

"I went to Oregon this last Spring. I had an epiphany."
"Another one?"
"Ha. Yeah. Seems like I have a lot of those. Kind of. You know those times when you look inside yourself and try to figure it out."
"So you're having a midlife crisis?"
Holding up my motorcycle jacket, "Did you see what I rode in on? Of course I'm having a mid-life crisis. But I don't like to call it that. I like to think of it as taking an introspective look at your life and making course corrections."
"But you had plans. We've talked about them. What about Utah? What about Michigan?"
"Things change."

I think that if anything that has impressed me more in the past few years is that things indeed do change. I've lived much of my life wanting to live the life others expected of me. I wanted stability, confidence that life wouldn't throw me something that I wasn't expecting. I gathered stuff around me to give me the illusion that things wouldn't change.

Then, things changed. My life was thrown into a type of turmoil. I found an institution that I valued more than my life had been less than truthful. I realized how much harm it had done to me. After floundering around and long talks with my wife, I figured I had a new normal. I don't view security the same way. My kids will grow and leave me. That isn't something that I'm sad about. It is the way it is. I looked at my home. Granted, it isn't all that pretty, but it was "mine". Paid for many years back. Filled with things. I realized that I could lose it all and it wouldn't bother me all that much. It was only stuff.

I thought about the things and times that made me the most happy. College. I loved college. While I might not be able to relive my youth, I love learning. And I had nothing then. I talked with Tracy about the years after our marriage and how poor we were. Yet, we were happy then. Every weekend we packed up the car and took off to some god-forsaken rock garden somewhere in The West and camped. We had adventures. Even when we were struggling in Phoenix after graduating, we were happy. We had a little apartment that we could barely furnish. We had tennis raquets and a car. That was enough. When we finally bought a computer, it sat on the floor for want of a table. We could pack up and go anywhere easily because we didn't have enough to worry about.

I now find solace in typing my random thoughts. I can't seem to read a book as my ADD has taken over my brain. I take bike and motorcycle rides and cherish the times I get away from the security I thought I wanted so much.

So here we are. We are trying to shed ourselves of some of our stuff. We have a plan to start reliving our adventures. I have a bucket list of things to do -- elsewhere. I have a different sense of purpose. These things probably should be done when we are empty nesters, but since we started late on our family, our kids have a front seat view to my, our, morphing life. I don't think they mind too much.

Things change. They sure do.

RaNt (Part 7.12.1a of the Trilogy of Fear) by Ranty McRanterson

No Way Out
or
Facebook Link

I want to give a very measured response to this because this post hit home. In many ways, it mirrors what I have and am going through. What really distresses me is the response by the women on this subject. It is incredible.

It has taken me a long time to be honest about what I think and what I feel with those that mean the most to me. You know something? Honesty isn't all rainbows and unicorns. Sometimes it is "I don't want to be here." "I want to change, I want A change." "I feel trapped." Those are honest sentiments. Those are things that need adulthood to discuss properly. Because, you know, I've said worse. I've thought much worse. There are times when quiet desperation or even impotent rage is part of my psyche and I have to work with it, weed it out, discuss it.

I want to say a lot of things. I have a lot of things unspoken in my life. My regrets are legion. I wish I wasn't such a coward when I first started dating seriously all the way through marriage. I wish I gave expression to my fears and my struggles. I wished I had the guts to ask "How do I show you that I care?" "I really want to say something and I'm scared to death to say it." "I need to talk about something and I can't find the words. Will you be patient with me as I try to express it?" But I didn't say it. I was afraid. I was afraid all my life to say what I felt. I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to be thought of poorly. I was afraid of rejection.

So here I am. I'm going to give a little bit of honesty. I'm going to tell you what I think, and probably many men feel the same way.

“I feel trapped.”

“By what?” I asked.

“By … my life,” he said.

I tried to reason with him: “The life you're living right now is the one you CHOSE.”

“But, it’s all just such a heavy responsibility.”

You know what? I've had that conversation. I have that conversation often. You know why? I feel that way. I feel trapped. I'm a father. We adopted three children and had one ourselves (my wife did the vast majority of the work, I realize.) We did choose that. And I feel trapped. I have 5 people that depend on me for financial support as well as emotional support. I can't just change something. I can't get up one morning and say "Screw it, I'm gonna go hiking in Hawaii." I have the money. I just can't do that. It isn't all my money. My kids need braces. They need clothes and shelter and a father that loves and cares for them. My wife needs all those things too, as well as support and my presence. She deserves every single moment of my time when I'm at home. I also have to make sure I keep my job, that I stay relevant to my employer. I walk a line to make sure I get the people in my life the things they need to survive, if not thrive. I FEEL that. And I feel trapped. I can't go to Hawaii. I have to work. I can't move to Eugene and work at Walmart and live out my fantasy life of a professional wind boarder. I have human beings to take care of.

I feel trapped. My wife feels trapped. We are slaves to our responsibilities. Yes, we chose this. Yes, it is perfectly freaking normal to feel trapped! If a woman also doesn't feel this at times in her life, she's lying to herself.

Suddenly, my husband began throwing her things around violently. “I never counted on us having a child,” he spat out under his breath.

Let me talk about children. The decision to have them, and in our case, adopt wasn't a simple decision. Tracy and I spoke long and hard about it. We discussed finances, emotional and all the other things we could think of at the time. I wanted to leave this world doing a little bit of good. Well, parenting is hard. You make certain decisions and allowances and sometimes you don't fully grasp the multi-decade commitment that you are making. You accept it intellectually, but the reality is daunting. And then came Bennet. Mind you, I love Bennet. But let's take a look at my life a bit. He'll turn 18 when I'm 62. Let that sink in. 62. I'm hitting retirement age right about then. That is on my mind. That doesn't mean I'll abandon anyone, but that hits home for me. That is something that I need to talk through. It is something that I need to grasp, even now. Do I regret having him? No. I love him. Do I realize what affect it will have on my life? Yes. And perhaps there are a few of my wants and dreams that I need to mourn. We many times hear that parenting is a sacrifice. It is. Let's just be honest about it and stop punishing the thoughts of what that sacrifice entails.

He said how dissatisfied he is with his life—how he feels despondent because there's no way out. He talked about what his options would be if he weren’t married, with a young child. How he could retire early and travel the world and enjoy a carefree life. He described our daughter and me as burdens, chains around his ankles keeping him from the life he feels he was meant to live. The life he envisioned for himself years ago. He didn't look at me as he spoke.

Here's a thought. Listen to him. Seriously listen and stop thinking about how this affects you. He's talking about himself now. That might be completely out of character. If he's verbalizing it to this degree, he's thought about it for some time. It is human nature to put up defenses and think of yourself. I've had similar talks with my wife because I felt comfortable enough to express it. Yes, it took time for us to get to that point. She's had to deal with me with near desperation in my voice. I've had to pull off the side of the road to cry about my life and how dissatisfied I am with it. Here's what I needed to hear.

"Let's talk about this. What exactly do you have a problem with?"
"Everything. Mostly, I don't want to be here. I hate being here."
"What about it bothers you?"
"I'm not doing what I enjoy. What I want to do costs money. I don't feel free to do that."
"Like what?"
"I want a bike. A good one. I want a motorcycle. I so loved riding them when I was growing up."
"Ok, we can do that. What else?"
"I love my job, but I hate being here. I want mountains. I want to climb, hike, I want to feel awe and love and fascination with the world."
"What can we do about that?"
.
.
.
Of course I summarized this heavily. This took place over years. It didn't involve just things and places. It involved religion, sex, romance, stuff. dreams, expectations. We had to learn how to talk about the deepest desires we had. Our expectations of each other changed because of it. We weathered it out and can talk about things that I never thought we would ever discuss. Yes, it helps having a marriage counselor as a spouse, but if you don't have one, you can hire one. I would suggest putting in the time and effort to do this yourselves first though. That isn't to say it ever will be unicorns and rainbows, but you will at least be able to say you were honest. If the marriage doesn't work, it doesn't work, but don't penalize the poor guy for expressing what he feels. Try to understand it. Work through it. It might turn out all right.

People are Allowed

Over the past couple of years I’ve seen many old and new friends undergo some profound changes in their lives, including myself. I’ve seen relationships grow stronger, weaker, and some have been completely destroyed. I’ve had my own closest relationships under the microscope. Because of this, I probably view relationships as a bit more ephemeral than I have in the past, and I’ve always been a fatalist. I see relationships, both intimate and friendly, as more of a daily choice than something that was ordained. I want to thank those who choose to have me in their lives and state how much I love and respect that choice. Things change. Life changes. Thank you for sticking around. Yeah, I am awesome, and thank you for recognizing that.

I say that because I found this short passage of truisms. Perhaps they are a bit harsh, but I think it is something that I need to keep in mind as people come and go.

people are allowed to leave you.
people are allowed to break up with you.
people are allowed to love you but not want to be with you.
people are allowed to not want to talk to you.
people are allowed to put their happiness before yours and do what makes them happy even if it does not include you.
people are allowed to move on from you.
people are allowed to fall in love with someone else.
people are allowed to not want you in their life.
people are allowed to do whatever they want to better themselves and become the version of themselves they are trying so hard to love.
don’t be bitter towards someone who is only trying to be happy.

Hey Mike!

A couple of years ago I took a trip to Salt Lake City. I got my rental car and headed south on 215. I turned on the radio and found a station that was playing "Pour Some Sugar on Me" by Def Leppard. I really love that song. After it was over I mused how the musical taste of Utah hasn't progressed in 30 years. I doubt that is true, but it made for a chuckle.

So I round Point of the Mountain and head into Utah Valley. I start realizing that I need caffeine. I need my Dr. Pepper fix. And I'm a little hungry. Mind you, I'm not a foodie. I eat to survive more than enjoyment. I want to eat and get about other things. So. McDonald's, of course. Right across from Lehi Roller Mills.

As I placed my order for a double cheeseburger and large soda (Yes, I call it soda. It's a carry over from my mission days in New England.), the 20 something girl then asks, "What's your name?" I didn't know how to answer that. What kind of question is that in a McDonald's? "Excuse me?" "What is your name?" she repeats. Scenarios play out in my mind. Why is this woman asking for my name? This stop for energy has suddenly become a bit more familiar than I cared for it to be. Is she going to try to sell me something? Am I going to undergo a religious spiel? No, I don't wear my ring and a woman that age certainly wouldn't be striking up a conversation with me for that reason. Goll, that was an arrogant thought. So, I squint up my eyes and slowly respond. "Why?" This isn't a quick "Why?" but a more drawn out "Wwwwhhhhyyyyy?"

"For the order."

Okay. That's different. That's not how they do things in the impersonal midwest. I can do this. So I give my name and in short order, receive my barely edible food. Once again my world is restored and the evil caffeine is circulating through my system, bringing life again to your humble correspondent.

That was my introduction to fast food places using my name. I've gotten a bit more comfortable with it but not a whole lot.

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to go to a fast food place that I frequented a few years ago and also when Tracy and I first moved to Illinois. Things have changed a bit there. For example, this is where we used to shop.






















Not much going on there now, is there? Anyway, as I was eating the taco that took 20 minutes to make for whatever reason, I overheard the guy at the register retell his experience applying there.

"Yeah, when I came in and applied, there was only one person working at the whole place. Now that I'm working here, I'm the second person. Since this is my first day, it is actually worse than having only one person here."

I must admit, I enjoyed the candor of the guy. He was all smiles and trying to make a good impression on the customers.

As I went there today, there was a woman ahead of me that seemed to be confounded by drink sizes and only 3 or 4 other people in the dining area. One gentleman was at the drink station trying to figure out which of the 5 options to choose. The afore mentioned worker came out from the prep area with a tray of food, set it on the counter and spoke out the items loud enough so the patrons could hear him. No response or movement from anyone. There was some uncomfortable looking back and forth between us and he again yelled out the order. Again, no movement. When he looked at me fairly exasperated, as it was a busy day at the drive through, I pointed tentatively towards the guy still trying to figure out the mystical powers of Pepsi vs. Diet Pepsi. The worker looked at me again, rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath as he went back to the prep area. What followed was a great lesson in why they ask for your name. The worker returned and announced in a commanding bellow, "Hey Mike! Your food's getting cold, man!"

That was enough to rouse the drink whisperer out of his coma and he took his tray and took a seat.

That was highly enjoyable. I hope I told it well.

To Be Known

If you never tell anyone the truth about yourself, eventually you start to forget. The love, the heartbreak, the joy, the despair, the things I did that were good, the things I did that were shameful–if I kept them all inside, my memories of them would start to disappear. And then I would disappear. 

~Cassandra Clare, The City of Heavenly Fire

In a recent listen to a podcast that I enjoy, a psychologist spoke about transitions in our lives and our desire "to be known." I found that very insightful (at the 1 hour mark is that interview). I think much of the angst that I felt much of my life has been tied to that concept. Humans in our more intimate relationships what to be known. Yes, and with implied acceptance. I've hidden a lot of that from others because I was afraid of being known. I wanted to be accepted. This is a very common human condition, I believe.

I am a deep thinker. I'm very introspective, self-correcting and probably over-critical of my actions. I want deep romance, a poetic life, to be lost in someone. I'm not saying I'm any good at that, but it is what I want. I want that deep connection. I tend towards the depressive, romantic longing of poetry. I want to travel and see the world. Not the people side of the world, but the things of nature. I'm fascinated by lava, volcanoes, the sweep of an ocean wave. I can stare for hours at the push and pull of the tide and the flow of a river. I'm taken by the engineering of man. bridges, railroads and powerlines. Infrastructure isn't boring, it is part and parcel of being human.

I used to be seduced by religion but I've learned it can prey on my longing for understanding and acceptance. It hasn't been kind to parts of my thinking.

I'm not very good at some things. I'm a horrible handiman. I'm not given to tinker with things. I'm not excited about cars or motorcycles, but I love riding them, but mostly to get somewhere. My view of many things that men are fascinated with is purely utilitarian with me. I like sports, but can do without.

Learning a new program or way of doing something on a computer is exciting for me. I'm not any good with video games but I am enamored with the worlds the programmers create. It is my favorite view of art. And it is art.

I'm sure I'll reveal other parts of myself as time goes on. I'm feeling a bit of a shift in my thinking, my outlook on the world. I want to investigate it. I want to rip open the wrapper I encase myself in and let myself out. I don't think it will be too impressive, but I am looking to surprise myself. I think I'm still capable of doing that.