In Case You Were Wondering

One of the many ways in which I wish I was like Mary Poppins is her take on explaining herself: "Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I never explain anything."

But, I frequently spend a great deal of time, energy and effort explaining myself, because it's important to me that people understand me. If they understand me, we'll live a harmonious existence, and everyone will be happier, right?

Yes, I actually do hang on to that hope. No comments about futility, please.

Anyway...

Apparently, there are people wondering if I've changed my mind about certain things, because, the theory goes, they didn't "really" affect me before.

You see, I belong - by choice, I feel impressed to add - to a religion that teaches that marriage is intended to be between a man and a woman, and my daughter married a woman.

For instance, someone recently said to me, "Have you come to terms with your daughter yet?" I have no idea what that inquiry means.

Do they mean, am I aware that my daughter does not follow the religion in which we raised her? Of course. When her age was still in single digits, she started arguing with us about church teachings because "nobody else does things that way." Once, when she insisted that "nobody else has household rules like that" (the subject was chores, something she detested) and I immediately rattled off the names of half a dozen families, she wailed, "Why are you talking about people at church?" I responded, "Why aren't you? When you use words like 'nobody' or 'everybody,' you'd better not know of any exceptions. Those words mean 'not even one person, worldwide.'" As a teen, she started saying things like, "Mormons do it all wrong." She stopped attending church at 18, and has never been quiet about her disagreements with doctrine or practices.

Do they mean, have I processed the fact that my daughter's in a relationship with a woman? Years ago. The first time I met my now daughter-in-law, she and my daughter were wearing matching rings. Even in the early years of the relationship, which dates back to when my now-28 year old was in college, my daughter's photos on my computer (her open Shutterfly account) contained an image of them kissing. Even early in the relationship, there were Internet searches of wedding venues. We didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes.

Do they mean, how do I treat my daughter's wife? The same way I always have, the same way I treat any person. From the time we met, we included her in family outings and family meals. Before we even met her, we bought travel souvenirs for her when we were on vacation. At Christmas, when we bought glasses with his favorite NFL team logo for my son-in-law, we bought her glasses with her favorite NFL team logo. We've included her name and photo in our Christmas card.

Do they mean, am I prepared for public scrutiny or questions? Always. How will people know anything if they don't ask? Plus, I'm generally a TMI person, not a privacy obsessed one. Virtually everything on my social media, for instance, is set on "public," so everyone knows what I'm saying about anyone and anything. I have never, ever asked my daughter or her wife to hide, to lie, to make themselves scarce, to not bring up their relationship around certain people. If people are obnoxious, well, that's a good sign that I need to keep those people, not my daughter, at arm's length.

Do they mean, am I aware that my daughter has unfavorable things to say about my religion? See above; yes, since her childhood.

Do they mean, am I prepared for this to be my reality? Of course. Anyone who believes that other people and their actions are, or should be, under the control of anyone but themselves is delusional or power hungry.

Do they mean, have I changed my mind and left, or doubted, my religion? That mindset - and yes, I have come across it - has always been so annoying. Do people usually change their minds, especially their deeply held beliefs, because someone else doesn't agree? Should they? I'm not easily swayed. Besides, it's outright offensive when someone says to me, "How can you belong to your religion, knowing that its beliefs cause your daughter pain?" but they are aghast and horrified if the question is reversed - "How can my daughter hold her beliefs, knowing that they cause her parents pain?" Take any answer you would give to one of us about free will and determining our own destiny, and apply it to the opposite question, as well, because the answers are the same.

Do they mean, do I agree with my religion? Yes, I do. Any official doctrine of my church is something that I embrace. Sometimes that has come quickly and easily (sometimes, before I even attended my church), and sometimes it's taken years of study and prayer. It's also offensive to me when someone sees me treat someone, anyone, outside of my religion with love and friendship, and then says, "So, you obviously don't believe (insert doctrine here) that the Mormons teach." (Yes, this has actually happened to me.) They are almost universally puzzled when I say, "Yes, I do. That's why my treatment of people doesn't depend on me agreeing with them. That's what my church teaches, that we are all children of God." I have no idea why people equate "children of God, who should be loved and cared for" with "agrees with and acts like me." I assure you, that is not what LDS members are taught.

As a subset of that, do they mean, do I think that this is the life that my daughter was destined to live? No, I do not. I do not believe in the "soul mates" concept that there is only one perfect partner for you. Anyone who's had a spouse die, or gone through a breakup thinking, "I will never love anyone that way again" knows that you will meet someone that you can love again (and that love is every bit as "real" as the love that you previously had). I think it is also possible to be deeply, truly in love, and have the relationship be one that should not be pursued. We know that, even if we don't enjoy the actions, or they don't come easily, we still need to practice good nutrition, exercise, hold a job (at home or somewhere else), be polite, be helpful, treat everyone fairly, clean our homes, do our laundry, refrain from violence, and a host of other behaviors. So, it makes no sense to me to say, "Unless you act on your sexual feelings, you're not being true to yourself, and you're doomed to failure." I don't think that "normal" necessarily equates to "desirable." I think that the fact that it biologically takes a man and a woman to perpetuate the species indicates that the ideal environment for raising them will contain a father and a mother.

A friend works for the local crisis hotline, and once went to her social media to ask, "What should I say to callers like this?" A caller said he was afraid to tell his parents that he was gay, because they thought homosexuality was wrong. My response was: I would say, "You think your parents are wrong. You think their views are hateful, divisive, inaccurate and hurtful. Yet, YOU LOVE THEM, and you WANT THEM IN YOUR LIFE, ALWAYS. That's undoubtedly EXACTLY how they feel about YOU."

So, I'm sitting there, having been asked if I've "come to terms," and having no earthly idea what that actually means. So I went with the only fact that matters, and said, "I love my daughter."

"I know that's what you say, but what about the Sharon in private?" Um - what? Did you just actually imply to my face that I do not love my daughter, AND that I'm two faced?

"She's the same person," I said. Remember the old computer term, WYSIWYG, which meant What You See Is What You Get? That's me. I do not have the energy to be different things to different people, and to try to remember how I'm "supposed" to act around them. My kids (and this daughter in particular) used to hate it when they'd tell some story that they were sure would embarrass me (on the theory that I'd bribe them to get them to shut up), only to discover that people already knew the story. Or, if they didn't, I was likely to say, "That's not the worst part!" and share more. I don't believe in tying myself in knots trying to make sure that others don't hear unflattering tales.

"I said Sharon."

"I know. And I'm telling you, the public and private Sharon look the same."

"Oh, I know you say that. But I know you."

Obviously not too well! This is someone who spent almost two decades in a relationship that they would not acknowledge in public, and they know very personal and often embarrassing things about me, and I'm the one accused of hiding? Seriously? I've told scores of people things that were none of their business, just because I overshare.

"You keep things inside." Do I make every effort to be civil, even when I'm angry, to be courteous, even when I don't like people, and make every effort to refrain from gossip? Yes; that's not being deceitful, that's being mature.

So, here I am, typing, trying to explain myself again, with no idea if that's possible, or even a good idea.

Let's try this. Here's a photo from my daughter's wedding:

That's my husband, me, our 4 kids, and my new daughter-in-law.

Here's one of all of the wedding guests:

Almost all of those people are members of my family. (The number inches closer to 100% if you count Mickey, and many of us would.) Since going on a cruise is expensive, the couple knew that the numbers would be small, but for a small ceremony, that's a lot of people. Now think about the fact that some people are there because they think my daughter is doing the right thing, and some are there just because they love my daughter.

The couple had a beautiful day that made them happy, and they shared it with loved ones.

Here's one from my oldest daughter's wedding:

That building we're in front of is the Salt Lake Temple. The woman in the wheelchair is my mom. She is not LDS, and she did not think that it was important to be married in an LDS temple. She is there, far from her home and in no small amount of physical discomfort, knowing that she cannot set foot inside the building, and that she will not see the wedding ceremony. She is there, in a borrowed wheelchair, because she loves my daughter.

The couple had a beautiful day that made them happy, and they shared it with loved ones.

This was taken at my grandniece's naming ceremony, at the synagogue my niece attends.

Only 3 people in this photo are Jewish, the parents and the new infant. The rest of them traveled a great distance, and are at the synagogue not to worship, but because they love my niece. (And, just as an aside, my niece is also in a same sex relationship.)

The couple had a beautiful day that made them happy, and they shared it with loved ones.

In sharing this I by no means am saying, "We are so amazing!" In fact, quite the contrary. My family and I are extremely ordinary. There are no rich, famous, or powerful people. We are flawed. We can be petty, bad tempered, forgetful, lazy, annoying, hurtful. We have money issue and health issues. We squabble and bicker. There are no Superhumans here.

Other people are doing the family thing better than I am. You're a good parent and your house is clean? Hats off to you. You work full time and coach your kid's team? I get exhausted just thinking about it.

We are so, so ordinary. Ordinary is good enough.

Any time someone wants to pat my daughter on the back for being willing to love such clueless parents, or to pat us on the back for loving such a difficult child, they need to stop. The idea that the main purpose of human interaction is achieving agreement is prejudicial and oppressive. I am amazed that so many people subscribe to it. It amazes and puzzles me any time someone feels that in order to truly love someone, or in order to even get along with civility, you have to agree, at least on the big stuff - religion, politics, etc.

Things that others said to my daughter undoubtedly contributed to the ridiculously long time it took for her to have The Conversation with us. Every time the subject of same sex relationships came up, we assured her that the horror stories you hear about people behaving badly in the face of such differences are a small fraction of the population. Most people handle them quite well, but those aren't the stories you hear repeated over and over again. Nobody calls up their friends and says, "Did you hear about Sally's parents? They behaved perfectly reasonably." Nobody re-shares "... and life went on as usual" stories on their social media. But many people perpetuate the idea that people will only treat you well if they agree with you. The positive stories that do get reblogged are the ones that say, "... and because we all agreed that Jimmy was right, everything was fine."

People say things like, "Religious parents are going to be the ones who behave badly," and, "Mormon parents are going to be a problem." Sometimes they say things like, "They'll come around eventually," indicating again the idea that everyone will need to agree for things to be fine, and that eventually, of course, everyone will agree. When I've asked people why this is, I get answers like, "Well, you hear all these stories..." or, "I had Mormon neighbors once, and they..." When someone says something like, "I had a Mormon uncle, and he...," I want to point out that I don't consider, for instance, my devout Catholic niece to be the final word in Catholic doctrine, or the poster child for her religion, or indicative of how all Catholics will (or should) behave. When I say things like, "I know a lot of Mormons who behave differently than that," I'm told that it's irrelevant, but those same people will insist that the people that they know or have heard about are hard evidence. Or, someone wants to get into a game of numbers - "I have more examples than you do!" (This is often despite the fact that they have never met as many LDS members as someone who regularly attends LDS meetings has.)

We never cautioned our younger children against spending time with, or listening to, their sister, either. We didn't view her as contagious in any way.

Someone once told me that the mere fact of my church membership indicated bigotry. Aside from the fact that that belief is the dictionary definition of prejudice, I was letting my children sit on the lap of my gay best friend with AIDS before my accuser was even born. I was still hugging him when the disease was advanced, and that was in the late 1980s and early 1990s, when people still said things like, "We don't know if the virus can spread through casual contact." Do not try to talk to me about bigotry if you have no idea what my life looks like, or if you think that a single piece of information is all that you need to know! (I get almost as upset at people who say, "Well, you can't blame her for thinking that. Most Mormons..." Again, that's prejudice, and again, you don't know most Mormons, even in your own community, much less worldwide.)

People told my son stuff like this, too, when he decided to leave our church, and not serve a mission. "Oh, your parents are going to just freak out!" It's almost understandable coming from people who've never met us, but even then it's annoying. Plus, we aren't the freak out type. Neither my parents-in-law nor my parents freaked out when we joined the church, either; the odds that we'd lose our minds over a child leaving were very small. (Plus, we'd already had one child leave the church; surely that's a pretty good indicator of how we'd act.)

"It's different when it's your own child," people said, dismissing the way we'd treated anyone else, gay or otherwise. You know how it's different? The parent/child relationship is permanent. Marriages are dissolved, friendships fade, but children are always yours. My child could never speak to me again, and I'd still be her mother. I could die tomorrow, my husband could re-marry, and I'd still be her mother. The parent/child relationship is the only biological relationship that you choose. You can't choose any of your other biological relatives, but any woman who has given birth has chosen, daily, for months on end, to bring a child into the world. That's how it's different.

(As an aside, I can speak to the mindset of giving birth, because it's what I did, but adoptive parents spend more time preparing, and they have to go find their children. They are equally determined; perhaps more so.)

So, for better or worse, I'm putting us out there, pointing at my family and saying, "People can disagree on fundamental things, and still love and support each other." "Support" does not mean "agree with."

In case you were wondering.

Now, when people say, "Well, I know this one Mormon family..." you can say, "I do, too." Plus, if we aren't impressive enough, I can point you in the direction of some really impressive people.

The Example of an Olympian

Every two years, I watch televised sports. I've never watched a Super Bowl - I'm so glad that I can now see all the commercials online the next day - or a World Series. I don't follow Nascar drivers. I am, however, glued to the Olympics.

I'm not sure why that is, but it doesn't really matter. I watch the opening ceremonies, all 3 or 4 hours of them. I watch sports I know nothing about, and may never have heard of. I was delighted when I discovered curling. A sport played with brooms and a stone - how is it that everyone doesn't love this? My family mocks me, but curling is amazing.

Watching the Sochi Olympics, as usual I felt for every competitor who fell, exulted with every competitor who placed. Sure, I love it when Americans take home medals, but I don't need the winners to be American to be glad for them.

There's usually someone local at the Winter Olympics. I live 30 minutes from Lake Tahoe (home of the 1960 Winter Games), and many top athletes still live or train nearby. In 2014, the Lake Tahoe region had more medalists than 68 countries - yes, countries. It's exciting to know that there are locals on the podium.

Here in the Reno/Sparks area, everyone is particularly delighted this year by the gold medal win of David Wise, who grew up here in Reno, skied at local resorts, attended local public schools. He's one of us, and we all seem to claim him. The high school he attended held a schoolwide assembly in order to record and send a message of congratulations. His father was interviewed by the local paper. When I went with my Rotary Club to read to students at an elementary school, I discovered that they have an autographed poster hanging in their office; David Wise attended the school as a child.

Like most of the rest of the country, I found the choice of words by NBC News reporter Skyler Wilder as unusual, to say the least, when Wilder described Wise as living an "alternative lifestyle."

I was actually more and more amused as I read prose like this: "He's not like the rest of the field. Wise is mature." "At such a young age, Wise has the lifestyle of an adult."

That's because Wise is an adult. He's 23. He's five years past the legal age to be considered an adult. He's two years past the higher legal age to buy alcohol (which, ironically, is years past the age at which a person can join the military). It's not as if he's teetering on the cusp; the man has been a full fledged adult for years.

At 23, my daughter was a university graduate, and she took five years, not four, to earn her degree. At 23, my son in law was nearing graduation at the same university, and he'd taken two years off to serve as a full time missionary for our church. At 23, I had a husband, a mortgage and two preschoolers - and no, I was not a teenage bride. I was 20 when I got married and had my first child.

That's what seemed to really amaze NBC's Wilder: David Wise is a husband, father, and churchgoer, who says that he can picture himself being a pastor one day. The way Wilder describes it, you'd think that this was some kind of bizarre lifestyle heard about only in the pages of National Geographic Magazine. This is the ordinary, expected way that people behaved until a generation or two ago. In centuries past, when the average life expectancy was 35, Wise would already be one of the revered elders of his community. People matured fast enough to apprentice to a profession at 3 or 4, marry at 12 or 13, and lead communities by 18, because they had to. Prolonged immaturity was not a desirable or accepted outcome.

Now, though, society has decided that, in order to be an effective, happy, fulfilled adult, you have to have a prolonged adolescence that lasts for decades. What? How does that make any sense? Do we tell kids that in order to be an effective, mature college student, they should postpone learning to tie their shoes, write their name or do simple addition for as long as possible? "You don't want to rush it. Most people aren't ready. You have to figure out who you are first."

Adolescence in the biological sense lasts for about 6 years. Trying to drag it out for decades behaviorally, under the assumption that people can't handle growing up, is ridiculous.

Frequently - bordering on "always" - when I say things like, "I was married with kids at that age," someone replies, "Yes, but most people that age can't handle it," or, "That usually ends badly." When I say, "Let me introduce you to dozens of people, of varying ages, who were ready," I'll hear, "Yes, but more people aren't ready." I will never understand the mindset that says, "The majority is always right, and their ways are always desirable."

I think that the speakers are expecting, at that moment, that I'll say something like, "Oh, gosh, if the majority is doing something different than I am, I'm an anomaly (or wrong or misguided or misinformed or lucky)." What I actually think is, "Well, why aren't they ready? And what are they doing to ensure that they grow up?"

I mean, if you heard that someone wasn't walking, or reading, or driving, or holding a job, far (in fact, years) past the age that they should be mentally and physically capable, do you think, "Everyone else should slow down and do it the same way, instead of trying to achieve," or do you think, "They should get some pretty intensive counseling and intervention in order to catch up"? In theory, a healthy 5 year old who still crawled everywhere would just be exercising prudence, right, taking all those extra years to mature? Maybe he'll fall less often when he does start walking, right?

I'm not talking about perfectly mature people who know that they're ready, but choose, say, not to have children. My own deeply adored brother is childless in his 60s. I'm talking about the prevailing attitude of, "I'm just not mature enough to handle that yet. Maybe in another 10 or 15 years, I'll get there," and the society that says, "Oh, you're so smart to continue to be an adolescent into your 30s." How is it that we feel that people are adult enough to be college grads, nurses, police officers, fire fighters, social workers or members of the armed forces, trusted to make life and death decisions (often for large numbers of strangers), but we don't think they're mature enough to choose a spouse or parent a child? And worse, we're OK with that?

Yes, yes, I know all about studies that say that the human brain isn't done developing until about age 25. I happen to think that that fact proves my point. Is it easier to set attitudes, behaviors and expectations in place while the brain is still growing, or after it's done? I mean, we educate our young precisely so that when adulthood arrives, they'll be ready for it. Why do we assume that postponing maturity and responsibility will increase either characteristic?

I also fight not to roll my eyes when people say, "Well, I've been with my boyfriend/girlfriend for 10 years or so now. We weren't ready for a permanent commitment then, but now, after being exclusive or nearly exclusive, living together, raising kids together, buying a house and waiting to see if the relationship imploded or someone better came along, I'm now prepared to actually commit to getting married some time in the future." Do you not trust your own judgement? Will waiting, or anything else, change the age that you were when you decided to enter into this relationship?

"Well, it's different for you. You were raised that way," people say to me. OK, yes and no. If by "raised" you mean "taught by parents," then no, I wasn't raised that way. My dad was 50 before he got married for the first (last, and only) time. My mother told us all, over and over, that her first marriage ended in divorce because she got married too young, and couldn't see the dangers signs in marrying an alcoholic. If you mean "belong to a religion that strongly encourages marriage and families," then yes, I was raised that way. I joined the church, on my own, at 12.

Here's the thing - if it is widely recognized that it is possible for a family, town, group or culture to raise kids who mature faster than their peers, and do so while living ordinary lives in ordinary neighborhoods, by and large attending local public schools, why do we not widely accept this as a good thing, ask ourselves what they're doing right, and adopt those practices? Why don't we collectively say, "Hey, they're onto something"?

Sometimes, we do. I noticed this Bloomberg News story when it was first published - "Mission Training Grooms Mormons to Pursue Presidency, CEO Suite." The author noticed that LDS young men and women, ages 19 to 21, who went through missionary training and served church missions of 18 months to 2 years, "have gone on to become among the most distinguished and recognizable faces in American business and civic life." Mormons make up about 2% of the population, but "Latter Day Saints hold, or have held, a seemingly disproportionate number of top jobs at major corporations."

Why is that? The article talks about the rigid rules and fairly demanding schedule of work and study that missionaries experience. A Harvard business school professor quoted says, "I don't think there's any more demanding profession than being a Mormon missionary." The result, often, is a fairly young individual with skills, maturity and confidence. One former missionary, now dean of a prestigious School of Business, says that, before his mission, "I frankly didn't know if I could do anything. I came back with the confidence that I could accomplish most hard things."

Isn't this pretty much a no-brainer? If you expect and nurture maturity and responsibility, you will get maturity and responsibility. Instead, society is telling young people, "You can't do it. Don't even try, because you'll fail. It will be humiliating and futile." Is it any wonder that we get the exact opposite of maturity and responsibility?

It is worth noting that David Wise, and many other young successful husbands, wives, parents and employees, are not LDS. It's not exclusive to one school of religious thought. It's a process that's applicable no matter what your belief system. The entire Bloomberg article is geared toward taking the Missionary Training model and applying it to other circumstances.

It's also worth noting that even my own children sometimes disagree with me on this subject. "Come on, Mom! You know what I was like at 19 and 20! Do you really think that I was ready to get married and have kids?" one has asked me frequently. No, Child, I do not think that you, personally, were ready to choose a lifelong partner or start a family. That does not change my belief that high school grads should have a whole world of opportunities open to them, not be limited by their own immaturity. Having options available does not mean that each person needs to do the same things at the same time. It means the freedom to choose what you, personally, want, expecting that you can be successful at it now, not at some indeterminate time in the future.

What kind of message are we sending when we say, implicitly or through suggestion, "If you want to achieve anything, you need to do it before you get married or before you have children. After that, you won't be able to achieve your best or have any significant fun"? It's especially maddening when the people who say this claim to value marriage.

That's the reason people usually give for avoiding grownup choices or responsibilities - the idea that success is unobtainable, that it's impossible. If you get married young, or have children young, the conventional thinking goes, you won't get an education or have career success. The idea that being responsible and capable will somehow cripple you is odd, to me. It makes more sense when I hear things like this, from David Wise: "I think my lifestyle - the fact that I have a little girl to take care of, and a wife - really takes the pressure off of my skiing, because first and foremost, I have to be a good husband and father. When you're out there skiing for something bigger than yourself, it really takes the pressure off for me."

(In an interview with our local paper, his father also credits the work ethic David learned while attending public schools instead of an elite ski academy that may have instilled the idea that being athletically gifted gave you a "pass" in other areas of your life.)

I have, over the years, grown very tired of hearing how rare and gifted (or odd and out of touch) I am, for anything from being married young (and having a successful marriage and family) to not drinking to never having slept around. I've spent most of my life saying, "I'm an ordinary person. I'm not that amazing. If I can do it, other people can do it." I have now decided that this was the wrong approach. I need to say, "You're right. I am incredible and amazing. I am so advanced that I am barely human. I can accomplish things that ordinary mortals cannot. That's exactly why you should listen to me, and do things my way."

Or, don't take my word for it. You could look to the life of a 23 year old Olympic gold medalist.

Thanks, David, and congratulations. Congratulations not only on your athletic achievement, but your focus on what's truly important, what will last after your Olympic career is over. Thanks for bringing good publicity to Reno. Thanks for shining a spotlight on responsible, capable young adults - and the achievement and happiness they can obtain.

A Truly Grand Parent

My mother hated crowds and noise. For her, the concept of "crowd" was pretty small, too, encompassing groups that others might deem modest or intimate. When we celebrated my children's birthdays, she would only come celebrate with us if it was just the immediate family. If they were having a party, she would come by earlier that day to drop off a gift and then skip the party. They never felt neglected - they knew how she felt. If she went to the extended family Christmas party (and she didn't always go), she would stay for an hour or less and then slip quietly out without saying goodbye.

It was a big deal, then, when she went with us to Las Vegas for our daughter Terry's college graduation.

Mom had never been to Vegas. For most of her life she'd loved to travel, but at 78 she was frequently in pain and always walked with a cane. She also hated leaving her home and her cat in someone else's care, trusting only my cousin Ted to do a good job.

We offered to fly her there and back, sparing her the experience of a road trip of almost 450 miles one way. Still, she opted for the whole road trip, including the post-graduation trip to Disneyland. She'd be rooming with us, and sharing a bed with our oldest daughter. The kids were thrilled.

The graduation invitations had indicated that the ceremony would be held not at the school, a hotel or an auditorium, but at the Fashion Show Mall. We found that very odd - a mall? Really? Then we attended the rehearsal and saw why. The graduates would enter by being raised up out of the floor in a huge glass sided elevator, then walk down the fashion show catwalk, all the while accompanied by special effects smoke, lights and music. I forget which of my family said it first - "It's a very Vegas graduation."

So there's my elderly mom, surrounded by the regular shoppers, the graduation crowd, and loud rock and roll accompanied by smoke, in the Fashion Show Mall on the Las Vegas Strip. It would not have been unheard of for her to simply flee, but she didn't. She sat through the whole thing.

She also let us take photographs of her afterward. This too was not something she enjoyed. To say that she hated to be photographed is understating things. She would, however, agree to a few on special occasions.

Look at the sheer joy in that photo!

There was no question that she was proud of Terry.

Three years later, when Lana, our oldest, graduated from college in Provo, Utah, it was important to her to have Grandma there. It was even more important because she was getting married the day after graduation.

Again, we offered to fly Mom there and back. This time, it was 560 miles one way. Again, she opted for the road trip and shared hotel, this time sharing a bed with Terry.

She was even slower and in more pain when she walked than she had been for Terry's graduation. Climbing in and out of our Suburban was difficult, painful and laborious, yet she didn't even consider not going.

Take a look at the size of that auditorium, and how high up we were sitting! Still, not a single complaint - not so much as a bad mood from Mom.

After she passed away, Lana found that "I <3 BYU" button in Mom's bedroom.

The graduation was so huge that it spread over 2 days. If you wanted to actually hear your name called and to walk across the stage, you had to attend your department's ceremony the day after the huge commencement.   Mom was in such pain from navigating the campus that she skipped those ceremonies for our son in law (morning) and daughter (afternoon). Even then she didn't complain, but simply said, "If I'm going to be up to all the walking tomorrow, I have to rest today."

Weddings in our temples tend to be small and private, often with only the couple and their witnesses or their immediate family present. Often, even the wedding party is not present for the actual ceremony. The reception tends to be the big event. Sometimes, there's more than one reception, especially if the wedding takes place away from the bride's or groom's home town. I've known couples who've had a wedding luncheon for the family and wedding party after the ceremony, gone on their honeymoon, and then returned to a reception in the bride's home town and one in the groom's home town.

In order to witness the actual wedding ceremony, you need to be an adult member of our church, in good standing, and have received certain ordinances.

Because they've grown up in this culture, my kids have never minded not attending someone's actual wedding, even when they're in the wedding party. They don't mind at all waiting in the waiting room. I fit all the requirements to attend the ceremony, but I've spent many weddings in the waiting room, simply because I'm not immediate family (and the rooms are small). I find that to be normal. Others, though, especially those who aren't members of our church or those who haven't been exposed to LDS weddings, find it very odd and are sometimes quite put out.

Not my mom.

Allow me to digress a bit here for some history. I joined my church, by myself but with my parents' permission, when I was 12. My dad's family was not particularly religious at all. My mom's family was moderately religious; they claimed a denomination, and my mom was baptized as a baby. When my siblings and I were children, we attended church once a year, on Easter, at the Methodist church.

All three of my mother's daughters joined churches that our parents did not attend. It did not bother or fluster Mom in any way. She spent all of my pre-driving years driving me to and from church services and activities. Sometimes, when invited, she'd attend meetings or activities with my sister, with me or even with my cousins. She never felt that anyone, at any church, was trying to convert her, or was judging her, or was expecting her to explain herself. If she had, she would have firmly declined any further invitations. When one of her granddaughters converted to Judaism and married a rabbi, my mother met it with the same acceptance and grace and true happiness for her that she had exhibited when her daughters joined Christian churches.

One of the governing documents of my religion says, "We claim the privilege of worshipping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where or what they may." I had been taught that precept by example my entire childhood, so when I heard it, I already knew of its validity. Your worship, or lack of it, is between you and God. I am neither of those people. I might admire you, pity you, or be annoyed by you, but it won't affect whether I love you or how I treat you. I learned that first, and best, from my mom.

Mom was not into very existential "there is no right, there is no wrong" philosophies. She was very sure of what she felt was right and what she felt was wrong. She just had no interest in making you agree with her, or even in knowing if you did or not.

I have seen and heard the way some other people react to situations similar to ours. Relatives who can't attend the wedding ceremony are very hurt, feel very left out, and are often vocal. They say things like, "I've waited my whole life to see you walk down the aisle!" and, "Your church can't really care very much about families if they're willing to put them through this kind of pain."

My mom, far from home and in physical pain, didn't even think about complaining. It's not as if she put on a happy face for us and vented to people about how awful and inconsiderate it was after she got back home. Trust me, my mother had no problem being very vocal about her displeasure. She never even considered that the day should be about what she wanted or expected. It was about what Lana and Craig wanted, and she was truly happy for them that they got to have what THEY wanted. She was very, very happy that her presence there that day made her granddaughter happy.

She wore the same dress she'd worn to my wedding 24 years earlier. It matched Lana's wedding colors.

She waited in the waiting room with the younger children during the ceremony. They had loaner wheelchairs, which she accepted after three full days of walking farther than normal, and climbing in and out of our behemoth of a vehicle. After the family photos were taken, a family friend - the closet thing we had to our side of the family being there that day - whisked her off on a tour after hearing that she'd never been in Salt Lake City before. She loved it.

She spent the reception that evening commenting on how happy the couple was, and what a wonderful thing it was for them to have a happy wedding day. She even let us take more photos.

A week later, after their honeymoon, she braved a larger crowd to attend the reception in our home town. Almost all of my side of the family made it there; my sister and her husband drove for 12 hours to attend the reception, then drove 12 hours back home so as not to miss work. My daughter felt very loved.

Some people spend a lot of time talking about tolerance, consideration, kindness and respect. Often, unfortunately, I have observed that what they mean is, "I don't think that you are sending enough of these things my way. You should do better." My mom didn't spend much time talking about such things, or telling us to treat everyone with respect; she just did it. She never said, "So-and-so is just as good as we are, even though his skin is a different color;" she treated So-and-so the same way she treated everyone else. We learned by watching.

So many people don't understand the difference between understanding someone, accepting someone and agreeing with them. They say, "I want your understanding," when what they mean is, "I want you to agree with me." They say, "I just can't accept you because of your belief system," instead of realizing that it's totally possible to accept someone while disagreeing with them. I think I have an easier time navigating those feelings than many people do, because I had such a stellar example.

Just as an aside, the niece I mentioned who married the rabbi - perhaps that's not an entirely accurate way to describe it. The rabbi is a lovely, red haired woman, and as far as I know, they haven't had a ceremony, religious, legal or private. They simply decided to form a family - and so, years ago, I gained a niece, my kids gained a cousin, my mom gained a granddaughter.

(Postscript: four years after this was written, my nieces made it official with a wedding on the beach, attended by their children.)

One of the last pieces of mail my mother got was a card from those nieces, letting her know the gender of the baby they're expecting. "Did you know that Kara and Mari are having a girl?" she excitedly asked Terry that night. She was looking forward to this 5th great-grandchild. None of us are concerned with the biology of this child; she's already ours, and always will be.

I have no idea how my mom felt about many things, including gay marriage. I do know that I was raised to accept others for who they are, not who we want them to be. We do not need to agree to love one another, to treat each other with respect and kindness, and to enjoy each other's company. My mother taught me that. My religion reinforced it. Most of the people I choose to fill my life with embrace it.

Take a look again at the elderly woman in a wheelchair, in front of a building she would never enter. That is the face of religious tolerance. That is the face of someone so secure in her belief system that she didn't need to challenge or argue with anyone. That is the face of love and acceptance. That is the woman who taught me  that to be sure of yourself does not mean belittling or demeaning others.

That is my mom.

Phoebe and Tyler

 

I've been thinking about Phoebe Prince and Megan Meier a lot lately. At one time – in Phoebe's case, a mere 10 months ago – their names were every bit the buzz word, topic du jour that Tyler Clementi is now. They were young and beautiful and they killed themselves after being bullied.

Apparently, the "problem" with Phoebe was that she was able to attract boys. Big deal, right? But in high school, everything is a big deal. Most adolescents don't yet know how to place things into proper context. Some kids teased her because she was an immigrant with a thick accent (she was from Ireland). Some were jealous that she fit in apparently so easily with so many diverse kids. After she had relationships (at least one a sexual one) with two popular boys, and befriended another boy who had a girlfriend, she was warned to "stay away from other people's men." (I've always wondered why girls don't threaten said "men" to stay faithful, but I see the whole "stay away from my man" thing so very often.) Phoebe was called a slut and a whore, both behind her back and to her face. Often, the slur of choice was "Irish whore," as thought that was somehow better or worse than an American or Brazilian or Sudanese whore.

Megan thought she'd met a great boy online. He was good looking, funny and a good listener. She was probably just starting to think of him as a current or potential boyfriend when he became very different, saying hurtful things that culminated in, "The world would be better off without you." She hung herself before finding out that her "friend" named "Josh" was actually the middle aged mother of a classmate. She never meant for anything bad to happen, this duplicitous woman swore.

I can see their faces in my head, snapshots that their families shared after their deaths. The girls are smiling, mugging and laughing. Megan had a tendency to make the ridiculous "kissy face" that two of my nieces often do when being photographed. Phoebe liked eyeliner and scarves.

There's other young, beautiful, dead people I never met taking up room in my brain. Hope Witsell was 13 and in junior high. With the poor judgment common to kids her age, she sent topless photos to a boy she was attracted to. She hoped he'd be impressed enough to become her boyfriend. Instead, he shared the photos, and his friends shared the photos, and THEIR friends shared the photos, and Hope found herself ridiculed by hundreds of kids from not only her own school, but also the local high school. She too was called a slut and a whore. "I can't be a whore," she wrote in her journal. "I'm too inexperienced." She, too, killed herself.

Jesse Logan was 18, five years older than Hope. She was a stunning blonde, about to go off to college and adult life. She'd been through middle school and high school, but she was still a teen. She, too, had the bad judgment to send topless photos of herself to a boy who shared them. Of course, you can see a pattern here and guess what happened – the name calling, the humiliation, the tears and the self inflicted death. She was not a whore, but she'd become convinced that that was all anyone would ever think of her.

Sladjana Vidovic was the 4^th teenager in her community to commit suicide in a period of just over 2 years. All had been bullied. Sladjana was called "Slutty Jana" and "Slutty Jana Vagina;" just like calling Phoebe an "Irish whore," this name calling denigrated her heritage as well as humiliated her personally. She and another teen suicide from her community, Jennifer Eyring, were heterosexual. Two others, Eric Mohat and Meredith Rezak, were at least rumored to be homosexual.

When I heard about Tyler Clementi, the fact that the infamous footage shot by his roommate and sent out over the Internet showed him with another man seemed to be the smallest piece of the puzzle, to me. I've heard many people speculate that being "outed" as being gay is what caused him such despair that he killed himself. I read one opinion that speculated that, "in his mind, it was better to be dead than to be gay." It's impossible to say what Tyler was thinking, since we can't ask him, but I think that assumption is faulty.

I remember being nineteen, Tyler's age, even though it was more than half my lifetime ago. I was no longer in a high school environment, where everything is washed in insecurity and hormones, but I wasn't that far removed from it, either. If someone had taken video of me in an intimate situation, including making out, with my boyfriend, and had shown that video to others, I would have been shatteringly, deeply humiliated and angry. The Internet didn't exist in 1985, so there would have been no chance of thousands or millions of people seeing the video, and I still would have been so mortified that I would have been unable to move about in public, or even with my friends, for fear of someone saying something hurtful. I would have cried for hours at a time and been inconsolable. I would have severed friendships, unable to comprehend how friends could do something so hurtful. I quite probably would have at least considered breaking up with my boyfriend, as though that would help. I can't say with any certainty that I wouldn't have felt suicidal. My entire world would have caved in.

I married the man who was my boyfriend at age 19, so I would not have been embarrassed to be seen with him, or to have anyone know that we were dating. I absolutely would not be feeling ashamed of being heterosexual. I wouldn't have been doing anything unheard of or illegal or even odd. Yet I know that if I was away at college, I would almost certainly have dropped out, unable to function on campus or return to my classes. If I thought the video would follow me home, the chance of my feeling suicidal would have increased tremendously. I would not have been able to imagine getting over or working through the pain and fury. Betrayal of any kind pushes my emotional buttons, so I would have been crushed. I would have been unable to function normally in any way.

After Tyler found out that his roommate was taping him and transmitting it, he wrote that he was "kinda pissed," and he also said that his roomie was "a pretty decent roommate." Not exactly heated language, under the circumstances. It was also a full day after those comments that he took his life. If I were to guess, I would say that whoever he was dating broke off the relationship, or at least suggested that they shouldn't see each other for a while. I'm also guessing that Tyler expected mostly sympathy from others - "Dude, I can't believe your roommate would do that!" - and was horrified to discover that even his friends were laughing about the incident, laughing at him. Some may have even urged him to join in the laughter - "C'mon, you gotta admit it's funny!" - and some probably avoided meeting his eye. That's conjecture, of course, but based on what you know of human nature, it sounds pretty plausible, doesn't it? Here's what also seems likely to me: Each incident over that 24 hours piled on top of the others, until Tyler felt that he would never, ever be able to get out from under the mountain of humiliation and pain. The aftermath was worse than the original betrayal of trust. He couldn't ignore or compartmentalize the incident, the usual male reaction to stress. I think the fact that he'd been with another man is the smallest component of the puzzle. Many straight kids have felt similar despair in similar circumstances. Some of them have also taken their own lives. I can't imagine that they thought being straight was worse than being dead.

The very thing that makes these kinds of incidents so common in kids and young adults (as opposed to, say, those in their 40s) is the very thing that devastates the victims so: immaturity and inexperience. I've heard bullies or other perpetrators express astonishment that their behavior was that harmful. They can't imagine why the victim didn't just shrug it off. S/he was too sensitive, they say. They feel that their behavior is "normal," and can't imagine being devastated by it. The victims, meanwhile, cannot imagine a reality in which they could shrug it off. They cannot imagine anything that would feel worse, and they can't imagine getting over or getting past it.

Sometimes, others make it worse by saying things like, "This is nothing. When you get older, you'll go through things that make this seem like a walk in the park." Hurting kids think, oh my gosh, why would I want to stick around if I'm just going to experience things worse than this? That sounds unimaginable and horrifying. What well meaning folks, usually older adults, mean when they give advice like this is, "Your current reaction is all out of proportion. In a few years, you'll see that it really wasn't the end of the world," but they often phrase it badly or are dismissive. They also fail to remember that often, this truly is the worst thing these kids have ever experienced or can imagine.

Think about a hungry infant. The child truly cannot imagine anything worse than what's happening right now. S/he is hungry! It's awful! They wail, they howl, and when the food comes, every fiber of their being relaxes. When the same child gets a little older, the wailing and howling is gone. The child has realized that the hunger doesn't last forever. Maybe they get moody or grumpy, but they don't shriek. By the time they're adults, they could be famished, but they'll be able to stand around a party making chit chat while they wait. They've learned that hunger is temporary and really not that difficult to cope with.

Teens and young adults sometimes can't see past what they're feeling right at the moment. Everything is magnified. Every pain feels like the end of the world.

I have little patience with people who tell me that adolescence itself, or the exclusion, teasing and outright rudeness that comes with it, is harder for gay kids. True, no one teases heterosexual kids about being heterosexual, but there's plenty of other reasons. Ask the fat kids, the special ed kids, the poor kids, the unattractive kids, the awkward kids.

It's totally socially acceptable to be obnoxious to certain kinds of people. Recently, while spending time with a teenage kid I truly like, one who usually champions the underdog and befriends the friendless, this kid made a surprising remark about a very portly individual who had just gone by. When asked why they thought that particular comment was appropriate, eyes rolled, and the explanation was, "It's not a handicap, it's a lifestyle choice." As a person of considerable mass myself, you don't want to get me started on the variety of ways other people have expressed their opinions about my size, from the outright obnoxious to the supposedly supportive. I'd love to say that behavior was relegated to those who haven't yet reached adulthood, but that would be laughably false. Many otherwise reasonable people see nothing wrong with that, either. They believe that I have chosen to be fat and therefore have chosen to be ridiculed, or they believe that their rude behavior is somehow helpful and motivational, and will cause me to change. After all, "it's a lifestyle choice."

What if something truly is a lifestyle choice? Does that mean that anything goes, behaviorwise?

That same reasoning extends to anyone who looks markedly different than the speaker's preference. I've seen clean cut, wholesome looking folks exhibit vicious behavior toward the dyed, pierced, outlandishly clothed set, and I've seen the outlandish ones heap vicious behavior upon the Cleaver-looking ones. After all, they reason, if you choose to be obviously different than me, it should just be a given that I will not only have a problem with that but that I will express this displeasure freely.

Ask any kid whose family doesn't have money how they're treated in school. For most of my life, I only owned one pair of pants at a time. When I was in 9^th grade, the boy who sat behind me in my science class pointed that fact out, loudly, every day. I was treated to comments like, "Don't those smell?" Gee, thanks, kid. I finally insisted on being taken to buy another pair – no easy feat when your household income consists of your dad's pension and your mom's 20 hour a week job. Hand me downs were OK with my dad, but buying secondhand was not, so new clothes were expensive. I made sure, for the rest of high school, to always own two pairs of pants, and to wear one on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and the other on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Sunday I wore a dress; occasionally I'd wear one to school, just to avoid wearing my pants.

Ask kids for their stories about what it's like if your family's on welfare, lives in a trailer or wears outdated fashions. Again, you'll run into that idea that if the kids don't want to be treated that way, well, their parents should simply make more money. They should also just expect to be teased and excluded – that's "just how things are."

This is not to say that the wealthy kids or popular ones get off scot free. Jealousy causes some truly abhorrent behavior. Ask any kid whose prized 16^th birthday car has been vandalized. Ask a cheerleader who's been the subject of rumors.

Religion is another magnet issue for intolerance and bad behavior. So, unfortunately, are physical handicaps, and mental disabilities often bring out the very worst in those around them. I am sure that everyone can instantly recall instances of mocking aimed at these kids, especially if their speech or movement is affected. Often, this too is seen as "normal" and in "good fun." Develop a tough skin, kids are told when they're hurt. This is just life.

I'm tired of hearing about what is "normal." Cancer is normal. It's afflicted humans (and animals) throughout history. All disease, filth, decay and death is normal. Does that mean that we elevate it to the status of desirable?

Now, in the wake of these recent publicized lost lives, when we should be trying very hard to pull together, I'm hearing and seeing another layer to the divisiveness that I've encountered for years. It infuriates me.

Now it is becoming even more acceptable to attack others based on their religious beliefs, if those beliefs include the tenet that homosexuality is wrong. That covers one heck of a lot of people, belonging to a whole lot of religions. Naturally, it's most prevalent, and most vicious, among kids. "It's the fault of people like YOU that gay kids are killing themselves," kids say to their friends, classmates and acquaintances, even if those kids have never done any bullying.

An LDS (Mormon) leader said, in a televised church meeting, that the church's stance is (and always has been) that homosexual behavior is considered sinful. Since then, things have been more difficult for LDS kids, especially high school students. "It's because of your church that people are committing suicide!" they're told. "Your church leaders are killing kids." "These suicides are your fault."

Wait a minute. Wait, wait, wait. It's OK for YOU to freely express your opinion, on TV, in print, in person, over the Internet, but it's NOT OK for people who disagree with you to do the same? It's not only acceptable, but encouraged, for you to say that being homosexual is acceptable to God, but it ISN'T acceptable for anyone else to say that it's abhorrent to Him? It's OK for you to say that the LDS religion, or any religion, is responsible for personal despair, but it's NOT acceptable for anyone else to say that your philosophy, your beliefs, are wrong?

I cannot tell you how often I pose these questions and people say, "Well, of course it's wrong to bully or attack someone, but I'm just trying to prevent more deaths." Never yet have I found a speaker who's OK being told, "Well, of course it's wrong to bully or attack someone, but I'm just trying to keep souls from going to hell."

If you think I'm kidding, find an LDS teen; ask them what's been said to them, and around them, at school. People are angry, and they want someone to blame.

A gay and lesbian group staged a demonstration, dressed all in black and laying on the sidewalk around LDS Church headquarters, "representing all the gay youth lost to suicide." Church leaders handled it with quiet grace, fully supporting their legal right to assemble. I wonder if a demonstration staged by religious youth, wearing chains and shackles representing sin and condemnation, would be similarly received around the headquarters of any gay and lesbian group.

LISTEN UP. Let us all be perfectly clear. It is not, and should not, be morally or legally wrong to disagree. Societies that forbid dissent or differing opinions are called totalitarian, repressive, dictatorships. WE DO NOT ALL HAVE TO AGREE. THERE IS NOTHING MORALLY OR LEGALLY WRONG WITH DISAGREEMENT. It should be possible to be civil to others, and to support their right to their beliefs and behavior, without sharing them. No one kills themselves simply because others disagree with them, or because others voice an opposing opinion.

It is imperative to a peaceful, productive future that we all get a handle on this simple, basic truth: we just treat those who disagree with us with the same civility and respect we would like to receive for our opinions.

If you can, and should, speak your mind, so should those who disagree with you. Civilly. Without name calling. Without venom.