Rainbow Flags and Neil Gaiman

I've been listening to a lot of audio books on my commute to and from work.

It's pretty perfect. About 35 minutes each way and I feel like a literary genius. I've been at my newish job for 10 months know and I wish I would have tracked everything I have listened to. (Author's Note: I just decided to do this).

There have been three highlights to this process for 3 very different reasons.

1. Brene Brown. I am in charge of my college's summer reading program and people are constantly suggesting books to me. I have actually listened to 9 or 10 of these things and it is stuff I never would have made time for before. So it's making me better at my job.|
2. Elmore Leonard. Good god that guy could write a story. If you've only seen Justified or Get Shorty or Out of Sight, dive into any of his books. There is a formula and they shouldn't work, but they work so well and it will make you want to be so much cooler than you are. It has made me want to be so much cooler than I am at least.
   
   Stories are good. Stories are important.
   
3. Neil Gaiman's voice. Whoa baby. I had read American Gods a couple of times a few years

   

   Pictured: Neil Gaiman's face

   ago. Actually read it with my eyes, rather than my ears. It's fantastic. Everything about it. At this point I think I've read 7 of his books or collections, or he's read them to me to be more specific. Let me tell you, the four people reading this, god damn that man has the greatest fictional reading voice in the whole world. (President Obama wins for non-fiction... this is not a debate, this is truth. Nick Offerman is a close runner up in the fiction category).
   
   Besides his voice is his message. He writes for anyone and everyone and he talks about writing and reading a lot. I believe one of the reasons he has been so successful and stuck with so many people is because of his lack of assumptions and his honesty. Gaiman says things like, "No one has ever farmed on Pluto before. Well, maybe they have, but I haven't heard of it happening." That is probably a terrible example, but it shows my point. He doesn't make the assumption of knowing or understanding everything. He is constantly learning and simply living in the world around him, taking it in and hoping for the best from everyone without establishing expectations.

So this is my jump off to talking about my neighborhood a little bit. I've been thinking about expectations, how we create our own narratives in every situation, both good and bad (mostly bad), and general understanding. It's easy to find the negative in basically anything. It's easy, but it's also really boring. This is not a high horse conversation, I can get as negative as the next guy and I write my own internal narratives that convince me I'm ruining something, or someone hates me or everything is all my fault. Sometimes it's true, most of the time it isn't. 

Challenging these narratives, like Neil Gaiman and his angel voice naturally does, isn't necessarily

Pictured: Stupid Good

difficult, but it doesn't come naturally to many people. One of the books I just finished reading with my ears is "Rising Strong" by Brene Brown (It's stupid good). Many of these thoughts have come directly as a response to that book, even thought I'm not putting it at the forefront of this post. I'm still processing a lot of it. Processing is good.

The main lesson to steal from Brown and that book for the sake of this one sided conversation is that everything changes when we assume everyone is doing their best. 

This is hard. It is important.

Important things are hard.

Let's bring this all back together: 

I was walking back from the playground with my kids last night. I was pushing the double stroller and we were listening to "Say It Aint So" by Weezer blaring out of my phone. On each side of the street their was a rainbow pride flag hung. This is a big thing on my block. In the last year at least 1 has been burnt and 4 others have been stolen or ripped down in the night. There was a rally about it that was attended by hundreds of people on very short notice.

I started counting as I walked and listened to my kids singing along to some of my favorite songs that I've forced into their brains. In the two blocks on the way back to our house there were 9 rainbow flags, 7 American flags and 1 Blue Lives Matter flag. 

Listening to other people's thought and ideas, fiction, research, interviews, essays, whatever it is, forces your brain to listen to another perspective. We're constantly writing our understanding of our personal stories, even if they never leave our frontal lobes (I know nothing about science, so I don't know if the frontal lobe is where this level of thinking actually takes place). We can look at a series of anti-LGBTQ hate crimes as a tragedy and snap shot of the shit world we live in. Or we can look at the rally and the fact that at least 5 of the pride flags hug on my block are hung by families of allies who are raising their children to believe in love above all else. 

Responding to hate with love. Just like Gaiman responds to the unknown with the possibility over certainty. Just like Leonard let's you assume the best in criminals while they're committing a crime. Just like taking the time to listen to someone read to you allows you to question your world with wonder rather than scrutiny.

When I see those flags I think of rewriting my narrative. Choosing language that helps and encourages others to rewrite theirs. Finding the positive and focusing on that while I move forward. Assume the best in people, even the shitbags, and consider the possibility that they are doing their best, even if their best isn't all that great. I might not have been able to do that so easily or actively without the sweet sweet voice of Neil Gaiman.

Hopeful Fear In America

I can typically walk down the street with my kids without being scared.

I don't need to warn my kids about how to act around anyone besides strangers.

I am privileged and I'm still scared.

Larry Whitmore said, while talking about the absolutely unnecessary death of #AltonSterling, "Thank God for cellphones." Some are still scared and making excuses, but the world can finally see systematic oppression, even if they choose to deny it.

I have a lot of great friends who are great people trying to understand this situation and offering support, condolences, thoughts, prayers or even evidence to make sure more people open their eyes. None of us want to, but we should all be scared.

This fear is how almost half of Americans feel every day. 

This fear has a moronic bigot on the ballot to become President of the United States of America.

This fear has parents warning their children about how to act around police officers. 

This fear has police officers, good and bad, jumpy, protective and insecure. And let's not pretend there aren't bad police officers. When a doctor messes up a surgery and kills someone due to negligence, they are removed from the field and held accountable for their actions. They aren't necessarily bad people, but they made a grave mistake and need to be held accountable for it. Something we rarely question. But when a police officer murders a person on camera, most of our media and half of Facebook blame the person for a criminal background or for not complying. The Bundy militia had loaded guns pointed at officers during their standoff and they had weeks of patience and discussion. But when a black teenager is playing in a park and a bad cop suspects he might have a gun, he's acquitted after shooting him dead.  

#PhilandoCastile was murdered by a bad cop. Maybe he was a good person who made a mistake, but that makes him unfit to wear a badge that is sworn to serve and protect. 

Good cops know this. Good people know this.

If there wasn't such an outcry to protect these bad cops and make fucking ridiculous excuses for them maybe there wouldn't be such a growing divide. Their body cameras didn't both accidentally fall off right before they shot who was pinned on the ground four times, that's an obvious lie, stop lying.

Stop lying.

Own your privilege if you're lucky enough to have it and support those around you. I can't explain it as well as this guy (please read this if you haven't already) but I'll paraphrase his sentiment uncouthly:

No shit all lives matter.

If you feel disregarded by the phrase Black Lives Matter, then you have probably never had to live in fear of your society. I bet that Stanford swimmer rapist asshole thinks All Lives Matter. Black Lives also matter. We should be angry and scared for the black community. We should try to understand how they are oppressed and vilified and how they are American citizens who just want to live in peace and raise their families.

We aren't all the same. Some of us want to be, but we're not. Personally, I don't want to be all the same. I wish we our system treated people the same and offered the same protection and opportunities, but that doesn't mean the same things as "we're all humans, we're all the same." We are all humans, but we all have a history, different families, different levels of education, different skin colors, different friend groups. It would be great if we could celebrate these differences, but we don't really. We typically hide behind them.

Things that are different are scary. Fear isolates.

I'm a middle class educated white guy and I'm scared for the world my kids are going to grow up in. I'm scared because I want them to have the opportunity to play with and learn from people who don't look like us and who weren't raised by us. I want them to give back to their community and spread love through their smiles and interactions.

 Before I get what I want I have to explain why we're different and why we're lucky and why that's so fucked up.

Between the time I started writing this and finished five cops were murdered at a peaceful rally in Dallas. Random cops. Probably good cops. I am already sick at the thought of the blame game and lack of accountability. Their lives were senselessly taken, just like the lives of Philando Castile, Alton Sterling and so many others. The former were killed because they were police officers. The latter were killed because they were black men in America. 

Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. - A really smart guy you've probably heard of and quote once a year on Facebook.

I always try to leave something hopeful in my writing because I'm a generally hopeful person who wants to live a positive life and leave a legacy of love. The only thing I am hopeful for is that more and more people will start to get it. Nobody questions that Blue Lives Matter or that All Lives Matter, so why do we question that Black Lives Matter? That's not a segregationist statement, it is unifying. 

A lot of people are scared of a revolution of some sort, or they don't think it's possible. I think it's necessary. I'm not talking about battles in the streets, but you know damn well those are coming just like in Ferguson, Missouri. I'm talking about neighborhoods, communities, towns, standing together to make changes that make lives better for everyone. Supporting each other by electing officials who care about people more than money. Looking at the broken systems like prisons, elections, drugs, justice and calling for change because it's the right thing to do. 

Morally. Economically. Socially. Patriotically, the right thing to do.

You can be angry and scared and you should be. But look outwardly. Be angry for the victims. Be scared for black men and women and police officers.

But be hopeful. Be supportive. Become educated and demand change.

Open your eyes.

Stop lying.

Light and Love.

Good Grief

Yesterday I had a rough morning. A rough morning for me after a rough week for more people than I can list. I don't know why I woke up sad and angry, but I did and my pissyness effected Jenna and needless to say Mabel didn't have the best morning either.

I stole this from Kris Troyer.
If you see this, let me know if you're mad.

Grief is a funny thing. Last Saturday one of my buddies took his own life. We weren't close, but we were friends. I have hugged him and listened to his personal struggles, but I have also seen him hug and make dozens of lives better for having him in it. I was sad. I was sad to think of his loneliness and pain, I was sad for my friends who loved him and lost him. I was sad for his girlfriend and his family. I was mad too. They often come hand in hand, but in this case I thought of how much pain his pain had caused and will continue to cause those who loved and tried to help him.

Forever. They will be in pain forever. That is sad and that makes me mad, but that is part of life and that's when the best of people also emerges. My friends who knew and loved Adam even more than I did stepped up. They rallied around each other in person and through social media to let the world know how much they loved Adam, how much Adam loved them and how much they loved each other.

Balancing the pain, sadness, anger and love isn't easy, but once it starts sinking in and the warmth replaced the emptiness, acceptance starts and you start to appreciate the best of the individual you lost and those who are still with us... at least I did. I know, all too well, that there is not an assembly line version of grief.

Especially when it comes back into town so quickly.

Now, I have a large family. I've been going to funerals and wakes for a very long time. At points in my life it was hard for me to understand folks my age coping with death for the first time. I'd seen it and been a part of it since I was very young. Each death taught me something, but overall I grew to appreciate that death is part of life, even when it's not fair and it hurts. The hurt didn't always go way quickly, but I understood it more and I tried my best to help others through their grief while understanding my own.

I stole this one too, but it was from Jamie herself
and it had been her profile picture a couple of times
so I'm guessing she liked it.

On Tuesday morning  I learned about Jamie. Less than 4 days after Adam's pain won over the love in his world, Jamie lost to her demons as well. Adam was my buddy and I cared for him and had a lot of love for him, but Jamie was my friend. She has been in and out of our lives the last couple of years dealing with her issues, but she just had dinner at our house. Whereas Adam was moreso a part of the lives of people in my life, Jamie was a part of my life. My family's life. The lives of my  best friends who have made Rochester our home.

This was a new one for me. My brain didn't know how to respond and in a lot of ways it didn't. I had already entered the acceptance phase of my grief when I found out about Jamie and I couldn't help but feel numb. I wanted to cry like I cried for Adam. I wanted to run the gambit again, I know it's for the best, but it just wasn't there. The hurt was there, the thoughts and questions and frustrations, but the feeling wasn't and that made me even more sad.

I held my wife as she cried. I cried with her. I checked in on friends who were closer and offered my support. I read amazing articles on grief and death and depression and pain and I couldn't help but feel like I had skipped a few steps and I started questioning everything again. What was wrong with me? Am I doing enough? Am I supposed to say or do or feel something differently...? I saw people grieving openly for both of my friends and struggling to understand their own and the grief of others. I saw people upset at themselves, at strangers who wanted to share in their grief, at people they didn't feel earned the right to grieve as much as them. I thought I was beyond this and I thought I knew better.

That's when the friends stepped in. I saw these questions, this pain, this sadness, frustration and all the things met with love and hope.

Much like with Dumka, the pictures and the stories started rolling in. Jamie was weird and smart and funny and lively and lovely. The sadness was there, but the celebration won. Getting together, not just on social media, but in person let people smile through their tears. It let people tell stories others hadn't ever heard before. It brought us all closer to Jamie and closer to each other. The same happened for Dumka, but I got to be a part of it for Jamie. My cycle of grief caught up to itself and I started to feel lucky again.

I am lucky to have known and been even a small part of these two extraordinary lives. I am lucky to know people who can love so unconditionally and who want to help even a distant friend get through their tough times. I'm lucky to have people who call me a friend and reach out to me. I'm lucky to hug my kids and ignore the pain while I make goofy voices and faces with them.

I woke up sad and angry and I struggled through the day. It was there all day long, even when I laid in bed at the end of the night. I'm lucky for this pain. This is good. This is a testament to the lives of Jamie Shea and Adam Dumka. This is a testament to my Aunt Fern and Steve's Dad and my Grampa and Aunt Dawn and Uncle Bob and August Lindell and Stephen Schantz and Paul Brewer and everyone else who has ever left this world and forced us to grow and grieve and learn. I'm a better friend because of grief. I'm a better person because of loss. I'm going to be a better dad because of sadness.

It's different for all of us, this pain and this path, but I've decided that my lesson is in love. Lessons don't always come easy. Neither does love.

But looking for these things, a lesson or the love, in the worst situations makes everything better. Everything does not happen for a reason, but that doesn't mean you can't find a silver lining in a shitty situation. There's no road-map to grief and even these stages I've been talking about are subjective. Live through the worst times and be with those who are gracious enough to let you. Try to smile and remember the best, but cry and be sad when you need to. Most importantly keep loving and keep living. Never stop.

I'll miss you Jamie. I'll miss you Adam. We're all better for having you as long as we did.

These pictures are also stolen,
but I think they're both beautiful and I hope nobody is angry with me.

The Best Neighbors in the World - An Ode to Guy and Ronnie (Or why I support local business)

I grew up in a small neighborhood in a small town.

To put it into perspective I graduated with 85 people and we had one of the largest graduating classes. My best friend lived across the street from me and his parents were friends with my parents. When we did projects on our house, they were there. When they did, we were. So on and so forth.

Growing up in a small town, especially when you grow up far from frivolous spending and means, being a good neighbor is sort of second nature. My folks were always helping out one of the neighbors or they were helping us. Mr. Dorman, who lived next door, had the best garden around and almost every morning in harvest season we would find a small pile of fresh vegetables on our deck. He never said a word about it.

I don't think anyone ever said a word about it, yet that's how I was raised and that's how I've always tried to treat people. I should really bold and underline and italicize try because I'm far from perfect and I've been a real piece of s-h-i-t from time to time. Overall, both personally and professionally, I like helping people and I'm happy to do it. It's how I approach customer service, it's how I approach friendship and it's what I tell Mabel all the time.

I just want you to be nice.

There are a million of these things right on the internet.

Having lived in Boston for a few years and then living here in Rochester, some of the neighborliness went away. I don't think it's necessarily second nature and sometimes it's good to be reminded that it should be. We really should slow down once in a while and when we do we realize a lot about the world around us. In the immortal words of Ferris Bueller:

Nope, not the one I was looking for.

Here it is!

How cool is that guy?

Not all that glitters is gold, Mathew Broderick accidentally killed a couple people in Ireland one time

I think I got off track somewhere. Classic me!

So back to the task at hand. Living in the city makes it easy to move through life and focus on what you need to focus on. We bought our house almost three years ago now and when we did we inherited a couple neighbors we had already heard great things about. They were friends of friends and even the people who used to own the house told us how great they were.

Those folks are Guy and Ronnie

They are, in fact, that cute in person as well.

From day one Guy and Ronnie have been amazing. They take friendly to a new level and write the book on sincerity. This has all flooded through my head because today, while I was at work, Jenna was trying to take Mabel to one of her toddler gym classes. On her way out she got stuck in our driveway. 

I will now go one a 12 page diatribe about the weather this winter... no I won't, but I could.

Man, this is going to be a great blog because I can not think straight and I hate it already, it's not doing them justice at all, but that's bound to lead to literary gold!

Back to it... again. 

Jenna called and told me she was stuck so I started packing up and coming home to help her get out. Halfway to the door she said Guy had come out to help her. 

I drove home anyways to clear out the driveway so she could get back in. By the time I had gotten home Guy and Ronnie had already gotten Jenna out of the driveway and were breaking the ice and shoveling so she would be able to get back in. There was no question, no need to ask, it's just who they are.

This is far from the first time they have helped us and been the most amazing of people. Between borrowed tools, big projects, little projects and just general presence and concern, Guy and Ronnie have reminded me and taught me what it is to be a neighbor and a friend. Most notably, though I won't get too deep into it because it makes me cry, when Mabel got sick and had to be rushed to the hospital the day after her first birthday, it was Guy and Ronnie who saved Jenna and me (mostly me, I was a disaster). Above and beyond doesn't even begin to cover it and when you thank them they are quick to say, that's what friends or that's what neighbors are for. Thank Christ for friends and neighbors like them. 

Part II:

Subtitle A: Or why I support local business

This obviously got me thinking about much more than how great it is to have neighbors who help you out in a pinch. I thought a lot about growing up in that neighborhood. I started thinking a lot about just how it helped develop me as an individual and how that neighborly inclination has led me down my path. Is it a direct correlation? I have no idea, I was never very good at research. But, then I started to think about Guy and Ronnie again. Guy is a ridiculously talented musician and generally handy guy who also happens to be a Rochester City Firefighter. Ronnie is brilliant and multi-talented and happens to be one of the proprietors of the best god damn food truck in all the land, Le Petit Poutine.

It's even better than it looks.

I see how hard Guy and Ronnie each work in and out of their chosen occupations. Their focus is almost always on whomever they are trying to help. In life, at home, at work, probably when they're singing in their cars driving around. Some might call it good customer service, but if we're being honest they are just good people. 

That's why small businesses are amazing. The majority of the individuals who decide they're going to take the risk of starting/owning/operating a small business don't do it because they're going to get super rich right away and definitely not because it easy. They probably won't and it certainly isn't. The ones who last, the ones that leave a mark are all run by people who care about people. They've found a way to incorporate their general amazingly welcoming, loving, supportive selves into an industry that is not forgiving. 

There is a small shop, in NYC it would be called a bodega, right around the corner from me on Winton Rd across from Main, run by a husband and his wife. They have four kids running around all the time too. They are the nicest people in the world. Every time you go in they are so happy to see you. They also happen to have a killer craft beer selection and all of you should be going there way more often. I should too, to be honest. It's a tough business and I hope they make it. It's strange to root for the owner of corner store, but I am because they've made me feel welcome and they deserve it. 

I work at Marshall Street Bar and Grill part time. The owners, my friends Don and Kelly, are just smart people who know what people want and try to give it to them. Everyone thinks they are Don's best friend because Don makes everyone feel like they are his best friend. That's just who he is. They keep coming back. Kelly is out in the community constantly representing the bar and making connections. People love her. That's just who she is. She has learned and grown through Marshall Street and Marshall Street keeps getting better and better in another really tough business.

Shameless plug for Marshall Street.

The Moral of this Story

Good neighbors are good people.

Good people start good local stores.

Local stores enhance and give back to the community.

Be a good neighbor and support your community.