Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Praying Together


In an earlier posting, I explained that during the three years I volunteered at the St. Paul-Ramsay Medical Center AIDS clinic I attended over thirty memorial services. Lon’s was particularly hard for me as he had become a good friend.
            Two other men with AIDS also became steadfast friends. I spent time at their home, listened to Andrew play gospel music on the piano, and watched Robert repair plumbing under the sink. We ate together and walked in the cool of a summer evening around their perennial gardens.
            Both of them attended the Minneapolis AIDS clinic where Joanne, the nun who had accepted me into the program, volunteered. While there one day, Robert and Andrew had spoken with her about the possibility of a monthly prayer meeting.
            Joanne asked Mary and me if we’d facilitate a prayer group in a former classroom at a vacant school building used by the Roman Catholic diocese for gatherings. Our first meeting was in January 1991.          

  
            Robert and Andrew, Mary and I were the sum total of the group, which met for six months. We prayed not only in the traditional way but also in the sharing with and entrusting of our lives to one another. Both men were in their late thirties or early forties. Mary and I were in our fifties. Robert had served for a number of years in the navy. Afterward he found a job at the post office where he was still working in the spring of 1991.
            Not able to make a living as an artist, Andrew had a series of jobs through the years. He used his artistic ability in the gardens he designed around their small home in one of the northern suburbs.
            Andrew laughed often, throwing back his head so that his dark lank hair flopped on his broad forehead. Robert, on the other hand, had a wry sense of humor that came perhaps from his years in the navy and his more realistic, pragmatic approach to life. He’d tell a joke and then wait, a gleam in his eyes, for me to “get it.”
            They were a good match, each encouraging the other to tell this story or that. They had planned, as Robert said, “to grow old together.” Andrew chimed in that they already argued "like an old married couple."
            In June we decided to cease meeting because they could no longer easily drive at night across the Twin Cities. Instead, they both invited me to visit them.
            That July, the Senate hearings began on the confirmation of Clarence Thomas whom President George H. W. Bush had nominated for the Supreme Court. In those hearings, Anita Hill alleged that Thomas had sexually harassed her when she worked as his subordinate at the Department of Education.
            Early in October 1991, television brought those tense hearings into Robert and Andrew’s living room. The two of them, plus Andrew’s visiting parents, and I sat mesmerized by Clarence Thomas’ and Anita Hill’s testimony.
            Wikipedia details the manner in which the “all male Senate Judiciary Committee challenged and dismissed Hill's accusations of sexual harassment.” Andrew and his father totally believed Thomas’ explanations and belittled Hill. They loudly faulted the woman, not the man.
            This was a true learning experience for me. I’ve never gotten involved in the fight for the Equal Rights Amendment. But the sexism in that living room astounded me. (I was fifty-five at the time.)


            Later, after Andrew’s parents left to return to their home in an eastern state, I learned that he really hadn’t believed Clarence Thomas.
            “So why did you say all those things?”
            “Because pa was sitting there.”
            “I don’t understand.”
            Robert, who’d remained silent while Andrew and his father denounced Anita Hill, explained: “Andrew’s still trying to please his dad.”
            “By saying what he didn’t believe?”
            “Lots of dads aren’t proud of who we are. This was a chance for Andrew to appear normal to his. Just like any other guy.”
            My heart cried for them both. They had to live—in so many nooks and crannies of their lives—a lie others imposed on them.
                                                                        (Continued on Saturday . . . )

Symbols from Wikipedia.

41 comments:

  1. This one really hit home. How many times did I try to please my own father by taking on beliefs of his? I actually believed he was smarter than me, and I did exactly the same thing as Andrew, although I knew better, I wouldn't allow myself to know it until much later. Thank you for the well drawn portrait of Andrew.

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    1. Dear DJan, don't you think most of us do this at sometime--if not with a father or mother then with a person in whom we're interested and whom we want "to like us"? Maybe it's part of the human condition. Peace.

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  2. There's much to be learned from their lives. I am so thankful that you and Mary were there for them, such an oasis of love in their lives. That makes me ask myself, "How can I be more an oasis of love today?" Thank you.

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    1. Dear Shelly, I think you've hit the nail on the head with that question. Peace.

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  3. What an interesting story here, Dee. I kind of relate to it in a funny way. On one hand, as a woman of faith I pray and approach God with honesty and a desire to fully live according to who God has called me to be. And yet, in the presence of sometimes critical parents, I can still so easily revert to a much, much younger verson of me and not express my true convictions. I can "waffle" just to keep peace. I can so easily understand how Andrew would want to accommodate for his father! Our strengths to be ourselves comes into full flower slowly over a ifetime...or so it seems for many of us! Lovely storytelling of such a difficult time, Dee. Debra

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    1. Dear Debra, yes, I've done my fair share--probably more than my fair share--of "waffling" throughout my life. I find though that as these years pass and I've entered the final fourth of a century of living that being honest and straightforward appeals not only to me but those with whom I try to practice those traits. I think that often we underestimate those people who love us. I know I've done that throughout my life. Peace.

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  4. Oh, my heart breaks for Andrew. It's obvious how much Robert loved him that he understood and kept silent. People are never simple to understand and always have levels to peel away. This was such a touching memory, Dee. :)

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    1. Dear Rita, you are so right--Robert did love Andrew so much. When Andrew died, Robert just sort of let go and died shortly afterward. Peace.

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  5. It made me sad that even after "coming out" to his father, he felt he had to hide who he really was & what he believed.

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    1. Dear Fishducky, I wonder how often in most of our lives we hide things for fear of hurting others. Peace.

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  6. Your last sentence is priceless in its horrifying truth.

    On a lighter note, congratulations on Dulcy's books doing so well on amazon.com -- I read all about it on Elisa's blog yesterday. That is just so great!

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    1. Dear Inger, thank you for responding to that last sentence and thank you, also, for your congratulations on Dulcy's books. She's such a sweetheart. Peace.

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  7. We all need to be loved and sometimes we do it through a little deception.

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    1. Dear Arleen, yes, I think you are so right about this. We seek love as flowers turn their faces to the sun. And sometimes we do after to hide a little of ourselves. At least at the beginning of a relationship. I say that and yet I wonder if that's true. The truth is that I've grown weary of thinking that I have to be a certain way to be loved. I'm to the point where I just seem to say, "Here I am. Take me as I am or simply walk away." Peace.

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  8. Fishducky stated it perfectly for me. How very sad. I guess the need for parental approval runs deep in all but for those living an unapproved lifestyle, it must be intense. Thank goodness those boys had you two who didn't judge.

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    1. Dear Arkansas Patti, all of need, I believe, a person who doesn't judge but simply accepts who we are as we are. And when we find that person we are indeed blessed. And Robert and Andrew accepted me also just as I was--a real learner about the life of being gay. They taught me so much and were a blessing in my life. Peace.

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  9. It pulls at my heart strings to think of these grown men trying in vain to be accepted for who they are.
    We all have our differences.. it what makes us human.
    Wonderful post, Dee.

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    1. Dear Pam, your words seem so wise to me. "We all have our differences. . . it's what makes us human." And those differences I think are what make us interesting also.
      Peace.

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  10. The poignancy of this story is so far reaching, isn't it? How we still try to please our parents long into our adult lives and how Andrew found a way, however fleeting it may have been, to connect with his father. I am particularly touched by Robert's silence given in love and understanding of Andrew.

    Your posts are always such valuable lessons in living and in loving, Dee. Thank you so much for giving them to me.

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    1. Dear Penny, thank you for your kind words and thank you also for recognizing the beauty of Robert's love for Andrew as evidenced in his silence and understanding. On Saturday I'll write a little about the deaths of these two men. Peace.

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  11. It's always sad to lose good friends. It's sadder to live a lie.

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    1. Dear Melynda, and sadder still that some of us ask others to live that lie. Peace.

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  12. I hope your friends have lived long enough to see progress in gay rights issues...and I wonder if the lived in a more progressive state, if they'd feel differently about their parents' perceptions.

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    1. Dear Jennifer, Robert and Andrew died just a few weeks after the last conversation in this posting. On Saturday, I'll write about that. Peace.

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  13. It is so amazing the hold those family dynamics have on us. For years I struggled to be the person I thought my parents wanted me to be. Luckily, at some point, I had my own children and realized that as their mother, all I really, truly want for them is to be happy in their own skin. It freed me to be who I am, regardless of what my parents thought.

    i love these glimpses into your multifaceted life, Dee. Thank you so much for sharing.

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    1. Dear Kari, I think it's so wonderful that in becoming a mother you were able to reflect on your own children and on yourself and let go of your need to please your parents. Most of us second-guess all the time what others want. I'm trying--with more success or failure on one day than another--to simply be straightforward and to trust the basic goodness of others. Peace.

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  14. hi i found your blog via crazy world and became a follower
    i would love for you to visit my blog and follow if you like it.
    http://www.blackinkpaperie.blogspot.com
    thanks
    new follower bev

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    1. Dear Bev, I'll visit your blog on Friday when I will spend time reading and commenting on all the blogs I follow. So see you then. Peace.

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  15. Sad. So sad. But he was trying to be please his dad, to make him happy. That's thoughtful, but . . . Be yourself or please your parents?

    Love,
    Janie

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    1. Dear Janie, a big question I think for all of us when we are young and for some of us even later. It's taken me years. Years! to let go of the need to please others.
      Peace.

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    2. Dear Janie, nor am I. Peace.

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  16. I still know I'm trying to please my family a lot of the time. But little by little as I write and show myself through my memoirs, something amazing is happening; I've found that most of them love who I am. Others still don't agree with everything, but they're making an effort to understand. I wish Andrew could have had this oppurtunity.

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    1. Dear Elisa, I'm so happy for you that you've discovered that your family loves who you are and has discovered that through the writing of your life, which I always find so honest in your telling of it. It's wonderful that blogging has given you this opportunity. Peace.

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  17. Such a pleasure to read your stories, Dee. This one is so deftly drawn it evokes compassion for all involved -- including Andrew's father. That's a gift, my friend.

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    1. Dear Jerri, thank you. I"m glad you've stopped by and I hope that your dad is doing well. Peace.

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  18. I feel it was very sad that Andrew felt he had to talk against Ms Hill. I have been guilty also at times in the past of doing that.. and how when we do, we please the father of liars satan, and not the Prince of Peace, Jesus. So now, no matter what I speak the truth.. And the Truth does, set you free.
    Much love to you Dee. Hubby Ray is brighter today.

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  19. Dear Crystal, I'm glad to learn that your husband is better.

    I'm not comfortable with words like "father of liars satan and prince of peace Jesus," but I do understand what you are saying about being honest. However, I understood Andrew's great need to be loved. I, too, tried for many many years to please others so as to be assured of their love. At some point I realized that being straightforward was the better path for me. But I could not and do not know whether that would have been the best path for Andrew. Peace.

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  20. It is so sad that, being terribly sick, Andrew still could not be sincere with his dad or thought that his dad would reject his opinion. I constantly fought with my dad. He had been brought up the middle-eastern way and wanted me to act like the women from his childhood –and I would not. This is one of the reasons I left France – he did not speak to me for 3 years and told people he never had had a daughter – but we made up later.

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    1. Dear Vagabonde, I'm so sorry to learn that happened to you. How abandoned you must have felt. But I'm so happy for you that after some time passed, your father was able to put aside his concerns and opinions and mend the broken relationship between the two of you. Peace.

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  21. I'm sort of reading these backwards. I am so lucky to always be able to be myself with my parents. They wouldn't accept anything less.

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