Pride, in the Name of Love

Alex came out to us three years ago during her junior year in college. While I had always told our kids that it truly didn't matter to us whether they were gay or not, the announcement took me by surprise. I wasn't upset with her, obviously. I was more upset by the fact that I hadn't known all along. Shouldn't a parent have an inkling about these things? I mean, my goodness, what about those crushes on Nick Jonas and Rami Malek? Or those guys she dated in college? The ones we never met? Or never wanted to meet us?

Love the hair. Love the girl.

Needless to say, Alex has taken a painful journey which included a fair amount of Catholic guilt and therapy. It can take a lot of courage to admit to yourself who you really are. No one comes out of the closet because it will make their life easier. They come out to live a more authentic life. If there's one thing I do know about Alex, she's as authentic as they come, despite the smurf-blue hair.

Why bring this up now? Three years after the fact? Well, I usually focus on feel-good topics for this blog. I wasn't quite sure how to weave this topic in. And truthfully, I didn't want anyone to judge my darling daughter. But something happened this week that makes me compelled to write about it.

Doug, Alex and I were FaceTiming this week when our normal light-hearted conversation turned serious in a hurry. (I won't go into the details of why our talk turned, but it was a bit on the political side.) Anyway, through the course of the discussion, Alex told us some terrible things that have happened to her and terrible things that have been said to her. Crushing things. As a parent, there's nothing worse than the feeling that you can no longer protect your child from hate or evil in the world. I was sickened and heartbroken over the fear she lives in–a fear that she bravely faces every day.

Then she told me something that made me completely upset with myself.

At one time Alex asked if I would walk with her during PRIDE. Apparently, I told her "That's your thing, not mine." I don't remember saying this, but I'm guessing I came across that I didn't want to be associated as gay. What a jerk thing to say. I didn't mean to say that I didn't support her. I'm just not a big parade, demonstrator type person (unless of course, it's a Disney parade, but that goes without saying.) But what Alex heard was, "You live in your gay world. I'll live in mine." She didn't push the issue, but I clearly hurt her feelings without realizing it.

I will support and defend our kids to the end of the earth as long as they strive to do good and treat people with respect. Alex works for a non-profit organization that helps sex trafficking victims. She has strong convictions about eliminating oppression. She intends to dedicate her career to fighting injustices. How can I not be proud of that? I'm not only proud of the work she does, but of the person she is whether that be gay, lesbian, bisexual, straight, transgender or non-binary. And if you don't understand some of those categories, that's okay. My hope is you don't judge or hate anyone who identifies as something different than yourself. My hope is that we can all learn to love and accept each other. And, certainly, that should begin with your family.

Alex, sign us up for the next PRIDE event.

God Bless and Peace. 

Last Tour: RIP EVH

 For my mom it was John Lennon. For me, it was Eddie Van Halen. 

It was probably somewhere between my eighth grade and freshman year. 1983-ish. Someone was playing a Van Halen cassette tape on the pep bus to a football game. The first few bars of that chaotic, yet genius guitar soliloquy called Eruption punched me in the gut. Who was this amazing band who electrified The Kinks and seemed to play one thousand notes a second?

Now, I had already been a music fan. I faithfully listened to my mother's Beatles records as a kid. I had a nice collection of 45s: Blondie, Hall & Oates, Nick Lowe, Michael Jackson. My first two real albums were The J. Geils Band and Joan Jett. But nothing would prepare me for the love-at-first-sight when I listened to Van Halen I all the way through. Six thousand times. I quickly acquired their other albums. Van Halen II. Women and Children First. Fair Warning. Diver Down. I knew exactly how long to rewind my cassette to hear Little Guitars over and over again. Until the player ate my tape, of course.

Then something amazing happened.

1984.

I clearly remember Otis12 on Z-92 introducing the new album "featuring Eddie on the keyboards." And while the music was clever and catchy, something even more wonderful was about to happen: videos. Oh my goodness. How I loved videos.

Now, I had certainly had my share of childhood crushes: Shaun Cassidy. Leif Garrett. Scott Baio. But it was different with Eddie. I was fourteen, for one thing, so I was obviously mature. And Eddie Van Halen was so much more than just a cute pop star. He was a cute rock star, clearly evidenced by the Jump and Panama videos. I never tired of watching him shred the guitar with his sweet smile and kick-ass hair which I sort of replicated in my teen years.

I can't think of high school without a Van Halen soundtrack going through my head. Van Halen was literally at the top of my favorite band list. (This was a very real list that I shared with anyone who was interested in my music preferences.) I had a Van Halen pen which I faithfully used for taking notes and dawdling the VH logo throughout the day. I argued with anyone beating a bible and labeling the band as "Devil's Music," insisting that Running with the Devil was obviously a metaphor. To this day, I will not forgive a few of my friends for going to Van Halen's last "David Lee Roth" concert without me as I sat in my bedroom pining, vowing to let nothing stop me from seeing the band next time they came around.

Unless, of course, the band broke up, which, of course, they did.

You know the rest of the story. Sammy Hagar came around. I liked the new Van Halen, but it wasn't the same for me. Those early Van Halen songs were raw, unexpected and a celebration of youthful recklessness. I was transitioning into adolescence. While I wasn't a terribly reckless teen, I appreciated the sentiment and applauded anyone with the audacity to live a bit on the wild side. Van Halen was that world for me. Even if it meant watching them on Friday Night Videos or listening to the albums in my room. Thankfully, I would explore that world a bit more in college. My roommate and I would even pay homage to Van Halen by decorating our ceiling with red and black electrical tape in the image of Eddie's guitar. (It hardly damaged the paint.)

Other bands eventually snuck their way into my heart. Def Leppard. U2. Coldplay. But none of the charismatic front men of those bands would ever replace Eddie Van Halen. He was my very first, my very best rockstar crush. His music, his style, his influence on a nerdy, young girl will be forever tattoo'd in my heart.

Rest in Peace, Eddie.