A response to: meeting same-gender intimacy needs

Back in May, Active Gay Mormon blogged about Meeting My Same-gender Intimacy Needs. I wrote the following to him, but it was too lengthy to fit as a reply, so I've posted it here.

"Hey, this is a great post. Here's my take (in red) on each of your items;

(1) Playing sports with other men -- anyone up for baseball, football, basketball? I've only done this with other SSA guys and we were all pretty new to it, but I particularly enjoyed softball.

(2) Lifting weights with a buddy -- feeling support, feeling strong, feeling confident. Have done it as part of an exercise class. Didn't push any buttons for me.

(3) Going on a trip -- whether it is short day trip, a hike, or a 7 day cruise with three friend. Love these. They've been rare in recent years since my sons got their Eagle Scout awards.

(4) Getting together with the priesthood brothers to help someone move, (I think we all underestimate the power of service). Amen. Again I haven't done this in a few years since I was "promoted" into the HP group, but I agree it's a great way to feel connected and that you're making a difference for someone.

(5) Talking it up with a friend while taking a shower together in the public shower room at the gym after working-out (non-sexual nudity doesn't have to be a bad thing). Believe it or not I've done this literally hundreds of times over the past decade. Here's the math: At just two workouts a week, 48 weeks a year, over a decade, that's at least 960 times that I've changed into athletic attire, worked out, showered (usually with a buddy or someone I've gotten to know) and the dressed and returned my non-training life. The first time wasn't easy, but within a week or so, my anxiety gave way to appreciation.

(6) Going out and enjoying a nice dinner (But what is better than the midnight dinner and chat at Village Inn or your faviorite local dive) Haven't done this is years, but have good memories of doing such things as a younger man, particularly in college.

(7) Going camping -- I look forward to the father and sons outing every year. Enjoy this while your sons are young, believe me the years fly by.  

(8) Hugging and other gestures of physical affection -- what can I say it feels great. I would love to hear more about this. None of my straight friends are much into hugging. I'd love it (to give and receive), but I don't know how to initiate it. Any suggestions?

(9) Shaving -- shaving with a friend at the same time at the gym, getting ready to start my work day. Have done this a few times, usually on the lunch hour with a buddy when we both got too busy to shave before work. Agreed this is a nice male bonding activity. 

(10) Massage - what a great way to bond through non-verbal communication, non-sexual touching has tremedous healing power. I agree massage is great--that's why I have no regrets about the bucks I've spent with licensed massage therapists over the years. I'd like to ask my friends to do this, but again haven't figured out the approach. How do you approach it?

(11) Priesthood Meeting -- Going to Stake Priesthood Meeting or General Priesthood Meeting with your priesthood brothers (its even more intimate, when a friend sitting next to you, puts his arm around you, or rubs your back while listening to the speakers) I'd love that, but I'm usually sandwiched in between my sons and that has it's own warm and fuzzy aspect. But again my question is, how do you make this happen, or is it just a spontaneous gift?

(12) Watching Sports -- I love when my Bishop invites me over to watch sports with him and his sons! It doesn't getter better than that. I'm better at watching and understanding sports than I used to be, but I'd be there for the male bonding, not really because I'm a big sports fan.

(13) House projects -- whether its your house or a friends, getting those power tools in your hands destroying and building is great. Another amen on that one. I loved it when my sons and their uncles and I all chipped in on a home improvement project for an extended family member a few years ago. 

(14) Serving in the church -- I look forward to meeting with the Bishopric each Sunday to discuss the needs of the ward to minister together and administer. I used to be a clerk and I really miss that weekly contact with the Bishopric and the other clerks. Again savor it while you've got it. 

(15) Spending time with family -- I love it when my brothers and I get together and do guy things. Being without brothers, I've had to adopt a few. Participating in activities together with them, especially in the great outdoors, is one of the greatest things I can think of.

Do We Face the Death Penalty?

What does the state execution of a death row inmate have to do with the Moho world? Not that much, I suppose, unless you take into account that in some countries, in this varied world we live in, we could be condemned to die for the "sin" of loving someone of the "wrong" gender. 93 nations in the world still legally punish homosexuality. In 7 of these - Iran, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, United Arab Emirates, Sudan, Nigeria, Mauritania - gays and lesbians are punished with the death penalty. But we're safe here in the USA, right? One Internet commenter reminds us, "being gay is a death penalty in the United States if you're in the wrong place at the wrong time." But who needs the death penalty when your religion makes you so conflicted that you choose suicide as the best option?

Almost Summertime

I know it's not officially summer until June 21, but for many of us summer starts when school ends or on Memorial Day weekend, whichever comes first.

By both of those standards summer has been here a while now, eventhough the weather here in the shadows of the everlasting hills has been unusually cold and rainy. Thanks to George Gershwin and Dubose Heyward, summertime isn't just a season but a wonderful melody and lyric:

Summertime and the livin' is easy
fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high
oh your daddy's rich and your ma is good lookin'
so hush little baby don't you cry

One of these mornin's you're gonna rise up singin'
yes you'll spread your wings and you'll take to the sky
but til' that mornin' theres nothin' can harm you
with daddy and mammy standin' by

I also associate Summertime with this classic by Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II from the musical Show Boat:

Fish got to swim, birds got to fly,
I got to love one man till I die
Can't help loving that man of mine

Tell me he's lazy, tell me he's slow,
Tell me I'm crazy, maybe I know
Can't help loving that man of mine

When he goes away,
That's a rainy day,
And when he comes back that day is fine,
The sun will shine

He can come home as late as can be,
Home without him ain't no home to me,
Can't help loving that man of mine

Which brings me to this thought: As one of the older guys on Abelard's long list of Moho bloggers I can tell you that even well into my fifties and still committed to my wife, children and faith, there are a few men on this planet and beyond that I can't help loving.

Some are dead. Some are far away. Some are on missions of various types. But one day there will be a reunion or even a meeting for the first time of someone that I've always known, someone who has always known me. That day will be fine. The sun will shine. And perhaps on that day I will know even more surely than I know now, that the love I feel is a good, noble and God-given trait that brings great challenges and even greater blessings. 

I played with dolls

My sisters had dolls and I liked to play with them. My parents gave me toys for boys like trucks, trains, Lincoln Logs and Erector Sets. I also had weapons including toy rifles, pistols and fake knives made of rubber. Some of this stuff was kind of interesting, but not anywhere near as cool as dolls.

I also liked purses. It seemed to me that guys got ripped off just having a little wallet, when girls and moms got to have these interesting and colorful compartments to keep their stuff in. Evenually I outgrew my fascination with dolls and purses. Maybe it's because my parents steered me in other directions.

I don't have any early memories of being called a sissy, pansie, faggot, queer, homo. Not when I was a little boy. But the I think I got called all of those in junior high. It's not like I was dragging dolls to school with me or carrying around a woman's purse. But I wasn't interested in sports and I wasn't good at them, and I was interested in art. I also remember that as boys my age talked about how wonderful girls were, I was noticing the guys. Everything about them seemed noteworthy: their eyes, their hands, how they combed their hair and if they could grow decent sideburns. I couldn't.

I wonder if there had been gay-straight alliances in Utah schools 40 years ago, if I would have participated. Probably not. I knew I was gay, that I was strongly attracted to the same sex. I could admit it to myself, but not to anyone else. I remember thinking I will never, ever tell anyone. I also remember the first time I made out with a girl. I became aroused and I thought, maybe I'm not gay after all. I enjoyed dating girls. I enjoyed kissing them, but I didn't want to go beyond kissing. I heard other boys talk about their sexual adventures with girls and I thought that sounds gross. Sometimes I'm amazed that I made it through junior high and high school. Sometimes it seems a miracle that I fell in love with a woman, married her, and that together we have raised a wonderful family.

When I look at this painting of the little boy sitting on the steps, I think, I know that boy. I was once that little boy. I'm glad he got so much love and affirmation for who he was. I'm sorry that he was sometimes taunted for being different, but he did the best he could with what he had, and somehow life has turned out pretty good for him.

Other little boys who liked dolls were not so lucky. Many have died from a variety of causes. Some have been murdered. Some have killed themselves. Some have lived lives of isolation and loneliness. And some have flourished. They've lived, loved and learned. Some have married women. Some have married men. All of us are human. What we have in common is greater than our differences. All of us have the need to touch and be touched, to love and to be loved, to belong to and contribute to something greater than ourselves, something that matters, something that makes the world a better place, even it it is for just one child sitting on a step holding a doll.

House episode on MOM engagement

Thanks to Into the West I watched an excellent episode of House last night. It deals with the wedding of a young couple. She is straight. He is dealing with SSA from which he says he is "cured." The episode helped me understand the sense of betrayal my wife felt when I finally came out to her after coming out to myself many years into our marriage. The ideal that child should be raised by a committed mother and father is also something I've pondered since watching the episode. A mixed orientation marriage is not only difficult for the wife and husband, but it also has implications for the children that may be brought into the union. True, no marriage is perfect, and I don't know if there is any data on the effects of MOM relationships on children in those families. If you are aware of any information on this, please let me know.

GLA News - Policy Change Announced

In early April of this year, the Greener Lawn Association (GLA) announced that xeriscaping will now be a fully acceptable form of home landscaping. Association Director Lance White asked that I send this email. The policy was changed after extended deliberations. It was also approved by the Landscape Foundation and the National Council of Home Gardeners. The following text provides additional details.

May 17, 2010

Dear Lawn and Garden Enthusiasts, 

As we have seen changes in the economy and the environment, we have been grateful that many property owners have turned their attention to improved landscaping. Although we continue to fully embrace lush green lawns, we also see that xeriscaping brings certain advantages in some locations. As many others have demonstrated that xeriscaping can an acceptable alternative to traditional lawns, we have pondered how to include this option within the context of our organization. After much deliberation, we now encourage all property owners to consider the best options for their particular needs and location, including both green lawns and xeriscaping. So keep it green, or dry, either way just as long as beauty remains your top priority and please help us spread the good news.

Best regards,

Lance

The Lusty Month of May

I notice guys all year long, but when the weather turns warmer and many of them are sweating and taking off their shirts, I notice them even more.

True, it's been cold and rainy lately here in northern Utah, but still we've had some beautiful days in the last few weeks and more quintessential "perfect spring days" are certainly ahead. Years ago my reaction to the various colors and scents of spring was to try to shut down my emotions. I remember very deliberately trying not to stare, trying not to obsess, which made me even more obsessive.

Now I try to look at things more philosophically. Hey it's springtime. Flowers and trees bloom, dead grass revives, and both men and women spend more time outdoors, wearing less clothing the warmer it gets. It's just the way it is. Why not enjoy it? Sure there are lots of reasons to remain somewhat cautious: traffic accidents, other accidents. But within reason I don't think I need totally cut myself off from the many manifestations of spring.

What do you say? Are you also more likely to experience pon farr at this time of year? If so, how do you deal with it? Any advice for those of us who are also in the same boat?

One night stands

They happen with gay and straight people. They happen with the young and old and those in between. They sometimes involve sex. But not always. Yes, I've had one night stands that weren't sexual at all. Here are a few of them.

• Neighbor friend and I go for a bike ride. Nothing bad happens. I expect we'll go again. But I never ask and neither does the neighbor. We see each other at church. We even chat. But no bike rides are scheduled.
  
• Different neighbor friend has a cabin. His son and my son are the same age and buddies. My son and I are invited to the cabin. Nothing bad happens. I expect to be invited again sometime. My son and his son go to the cabin mutliple times particularly after they both get their drivers licenses. I see my friend at church. We chat. Eventually I out and out say, "If you ever need any help up at your cabin, just let me know, I'd love to lend a hand." Never again am I invited to the cabin. We continue to see each other at church. We chat. I can't bring myself to ask him, what happened, how come I never got invited back?
  
• College buddy invites me to go skiing. We have a good time. At least I think so. Nothing bad happens. But I don't ever again invite him to go skiing. He doesn't ever again invite me to go skiing. Eventually we lose track of each other, but sometimes when it snows, I think of him and wonder what happened. The I tell myself, you can't hold on to every friendship and aqauintance.
  
• Yet another neighbor and I go for yet a different bike ride. Nothing bad happens. We both say we'll go again sometime, but I never invite him and he never invites me. We see each other at church. We even chat. But no bike rides are scheduled.

Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Other times I know it's because I'm gay and they're straight and their gaydar goes off and they back away. Then I say, no, that's not it. Just because I'm still kind of homophobic doesn't mean they are. Then I remember that in three of the four cases above, I didn't do anything to try to advance the friendship. Sometimes I'm too judgemental though. I read about guys who have sex or something close to it with other guys, and then when the relationship stalls I can hear myself judgementally saying, "Well if you hadn't had sex, you'd still be friends." But the point is, sometimes there's just not enough energy in a relationship to carry it forward. Maybe it's nobody's fault. Maybe it just is. At least that's what I tell myself on beautiful spring days when I think about bike rides and trips to cabins.

Leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again

Disclaimer: I am not leaving, but one of our fellow bloggers is and here's a re-post of what I just wrote to him:

Will you be leaving your blog up or do I need to go in and quickly read the whole thing tonight after work? Sorry to hear you're leaving, but I hope you will leave the blog up for those of us who have just discovered you. Thanks also for your friendship on Facebook. I'm glad there's a way to still be in touch.

As to your comment "I think my outlook has stepped outside the bounds of what is allowed in the MoHo community", I was not aware that we had any particularly hard and fast rules about what is and isn't allowed.

To the contrary, I thought one of our great strengths was our diversity of view points from true believing to pragmatic and discriminating cafeteria-ists, to the cultural heritagists, to the less active, inactive, excommunicated, agnonistic, athestic, etc.

What we all have in common is not so much our entire belief system, per se, but the fact that our lives are in thousands of ways shaped by our Mormonism and our gayness, bisexuality, same gender attracted genetic structure, or simply our desire to read and weep or giggle about expose's on Journey into Manhood Weekends.

So I guess what I'm doing is what you were trying to do with your friend and that is extend your welcome, rewnew your subscription, affirm your belonging, express gratitute for what you've contributed and encourage you to lurk rather than completely withdraw.

Or to put it in more personal terms, some of us are really, really needy and we'll miss you more than we want to admit.

That said, of course I respect your decision to do what you beleive is best for you. Thanks for hearing me out. Good luck and may you continue to be blessed and bless those many others who your life touches.

Rules: The Bad, the OK, and the Wished For

April Theme: The Rules

Old rules that should continue to die - "the bad"

• If you're gay, do all you can to hide it.
• If you can't be heterosexual, fake it until you make it.
• If you marry a woman, the gay will go a way.
• If you marry a woman and the gay doesn't go a way, then it's somebody's fault.
• You would be better off dead than gay.
• All touch is sexual, so don't touch anyone but your spouse.

Existing rules that do apply - "the OK"

• If you are suicidally depressed, get professional help.
• If you marry someone and have children, make them a high priority.
• Care for yourself so you'll be able to care for your loved ones.

New rules? - "the wished-for"

• Not all touch is sexual. It is OK to touch others in appropriate ways.
• Married men, whether straight or gay, can benefit from a variety of male/male friendships.
• Marriage between a man and a woman is the heterosexual ideal, however marriage between persons of the same sex is appropriate for gay people.
• Same sex marriage is legal throughout the United States. This law is not only good for gays, it is good for society in general.

Monson lovingly jokes about male-on-male kiss

How delightful that in his first conference talk this morning, President Monson went off script to talk about his first meeting with his parents-in-law who joined the church thanks to his grand uncle's missionary efforts. He told how his prospective father-in-law showed him an old photograph of the missionaries, then wept and then kissed him on the cheek. He then ad-libbed something like, "Even before our first date," which was met with laughter from the audience. What a delightful and unintentionally Moho-friendly thing to have said.

Early in April, Part 3

Kade: Hey…Can you chat? I guess you're not on line...

Arie: Yes I’m here!

Kade: Just wanted to drop you a note that I'm thrilled for your family vacation plans. What fun times ahead for you! Congratulations.

Arie: thanks!

Kade: Is now a bad time?

Arie: no, I’ve got a few minutes. thanks for the congrats. I know you do the family vacation thing too…but I see you in my minds eye as too young to have teenagers. Maybe age is more of an illusion than we think.

Kade: Most definitely. I'm not aging at all - just everyone around me.

Arie: :D Meaning that when we connect, it doesn't matter.

Kade: It doesn't matter - isn't that great!

Arie: Can you still meet for lunch on Thursday? I can bring apples and cheese. Do you like sharp cheddar?

Kade: We can go together from your office if that works.

Arie: Just call me when you arrive and I’ll meet you outside. I think both of our dads would approve.

Kade: I just want a brother that understands. Did your father understand?

Arie: I don’t know if he did or not. It’s not something we got a chance to discuss, but we can talk more about it if you like. It will be so good to see you again.

Kade: We are hiding this from our wives. Does that make it right or wrong? Another question to ponder. Anyway, I've got to run... I hope you're okay - sometimes I ask too many questions...

Arie: You're fine, my man. I'm good. It's been a good chat. Talk to you soon.

Kade: Huge hugs!

Arie: The same for you.

When Kade and Arie met on Thursday, they didn’t realize they’d have some unwanted company. To be continued…

The Men in My Life

I don't really know when I started to notice them, the men in my life. It was probably before I could talk. The first men I noticed were my dad, my grandpas, uncles and neighbors. Sometimes they'd whisker me. That made me love my mom's soft face, but later I would hunger for their whiskers again. I would long for their whiskers so badly that any whiskers would do. Maybe that's why I loved that old song Razor Face so much as a teenager. Maybe that's why I'm still fascinated by beards and sideburns, even as my own fade from brown with a little red, to grey with a lot of white.

What I felt as a small child, as best I can remember it anyway, was safe and protected. As I grew a little older, I found that boys, especially older boys, could sometimes be mean, but they weren't men. They were just boys.

When I started to become a man myself, I sometimes doubted myself. I might look like a man. I might have a man's voice and his strength. I might even be manly to some, but am I just pretending. It took a long time for me to understand that a man can still sometimes feel like a child. That that's OK sometimes.

I've been blessed with so many good men in my life. Men who have helped me learn and grow and be myself. Even mean men who have helped me learn what I wanted to be, because they were jerks. That also took a while to figure out.

I've never had a lover man. But I sure have had some good friends. I've had a lot of crushes on men over the years. I still do. But I don't crush on everyone. Some men and just there and I'm pretty chill about it. They might be friends or acquaintences, neighbors or quorum brothers, even some bloggers I've never met. I'm comfortable around them, for the most part, because they're just part of the environment, with only a little bit more presence than furniture. I'm glad there are many of them. They make life stable and comfortable.

But then there are the men who mean something more. We may or may not know each other, but these are the men I notice. Sometimes I feel that here in the blogosphere, too. There's sometimes just something about the way a fellow writes that intrigues me. I work with some of these kinds of intriguing men, too. I go to church with some of these men. I have some friendships with some of these men. I notice when they're around, and sometimes when they're not. I notice what they wear, and whether they've shaved, and if they seem happy or not, and how they smell and what they say and don't say.

I notice their eyes and their voices. Sometimes when they talk my mind wanders. I sometimes hear the sound of their voices more than I listen to their words. This can be dangerous in the workplace. I might miss something I really do need to know.

There was a time when I thought I don't want to feel this feeling, I don't want this buzz, this attraction. I can't handle it. I don't want it. I want it to go away. I guess that could happen to me again someday, but I'm glad I've gotten used to this something, this quality that is as life affirming as water, food, breath, shelter, warmth or beauty.

And so my thoughts circle back around to shelter, safety, protection. Is that what I feel when I'm sitting alone like the guy in the Steve Walker painting, alone but not all alone, feeling the spirit of those I love and those who love me?

Early in April, Part 2

(continued from here)

Their first face-to-face meeting brought a new intensity to their online chats. Both men sought to actively define a friendship that would lead to growth rather than something that would end in disappointment or worse.

Arie: Why can't it be a win-win-win? That's what I want. For you, for me, for our loved-ones.

Kade: I'd love that. Something that can be looked upon as an example that everything doesn't have to end in disaster.

Arie: I'm going to re-read some of Carol Lynn Pearson's Circling the Wagons. I want to affirm to myself that this is a positive kind of pioneering.

Kade: But do you really believe that can happen?

Arie: I would not do this if I didn't think there was a good chance of success. Nonetheless, there are risks. It's a work in progess. How do you see it in terms of risk vs. reward?

Kade: If there were no risk, there would be no alarms going off. But, if there were no risk, it wouldn't be worth it. Sometimes it takes risk to learn and grow. I'm not here to do anything that will destroy eternity. But, I do feel there is something to learn by being open to one another.

Arie: That makes sense to me and yet there is the possibility that despite our resolve boundaries will shift. We both seen it happen here in the stories of others.

Kade: I will not betray those I love. And I know you won't. And talking about it keeps it in the open. Or are we playing with fire and fooling ourselves?

First Kiss

Actually I should title this "First Kisses" because there are several memorable first kisses as I look back on a long and mostly happy life.

1. My first teenage kiss with a girl.
2. The first time my wife-to-be and I kissed.
3. The first time a gay man kissed me.
4. The first time I really wanted to taste the kiss of another man.
5. Other kisses and expressions of affection.

So jumping toward the end of the list, let's focus on #4, the first time I really wanted to taste the kiss of another man.

It was on a mountainside. A straight friend and I were jogging. We both stopped to catch our breath and because we were both breathing heavily and standing close to each other and trying to talk while gasping for air, I inadvertantly captured one of his large exhalations in one of my deep inhalations. It was warm and wonderful. There was no hint of anything artificial. No trace of mouthwash or toothpaste, but nothing unappealing either. That breathing in of his breath was neither sweet nor offensive in any way, but I loved it. It was just his breath: warm, pure and affirming. But it had the power to forever freeze that moment in time. I wanted more of that taste, and I suppose a kiss would have been a natural next step for me if he had not been a straight man. It was probably as close to a kiss as I will ever enjoy with him. And you know what? That's OK. As his friend and as a married man that's as it should be.

And what about #5? These are stories of kisses and hugs between friends and family that are to be savored and held sacred.

Inexplicable Tears

You can coverup brown eyes with blue or even green contacts. I've never tried it, but sometimes I've wanted to. I'm right handed but sometimes I try to write with my left hand. It makes me feel like a kid again. Not a happy kid, but a kid I can identify with. Why should it matter to me that someone I don't even know keeps deleting people from his phone and his Facebook accounts. That shouldn't bug me, should it? But it does.

I feel close to God when I pray. I sometimes feel close to God when others pray. I usually can be found attending church on Sundays, but that doesn't mean I believe everything I'm hearing. I was suicidal almost a decade ago and I've made progress in getting much healthier mentally and physically, but lately I think that I'm not going to do anything to cause myself to die an early death, but hey, if I end up in a fatal accident or with some terminal illness and if I died sooner rather than later, well that would be OK. Maybe I'd get to meet Stuart of some other people I miss.

Sometimes I get down on myself for all the meds I take. Do I really need all this stuff? But wow, if I go a few days without taking my antidepressants, I definitely notice my mood darkening. I don't think I've ever been this honest in any of my earlier blog entries. I pride myself on having something positive to say. But maybe that's sometimes like wearing blue contacts when you've really got brown eyes.

I've got so much to be grateful for. I really do. I'm sitting here using all ten fingers to type with for crying out loud. Yes, my feet and toes are cold, but I've got both feet and five toes on each foot. The truth is I can't see very well without my glasses, but sometimes it's nice just to take them off and let the world be blurry. It's really cool that I can blog and that I have a few friends and acquaintences who read this. I'm glad for the contact.

Four of you I've actually met face-to-face. I'm grateful for that. You've seen me. You've seen the thinning hair and the thick glasses and it didn't seem to matter to you. I'm glad I'm not invisible. I've also chatted on line with some of you that I haven't met. I've seen your faces in pictures but you haven't seen mine, and yet still we've had some pretty good talks, haven't we? I guess it's silly to think about people deleting people. Only God and murderers do that. Just because someone deletes a name doesn't mean a person has been deleted. I guess I needed to talk through that to make myself feel better.

For some reason right now I have tears in my eyes. It's not like I'm sobbing or anything. I'm not sure if these are tears of sadness or gratitude. Maybe both. I don't taste my tears often enough to know what they taste like. It always surprises me that they're not as salty as I imagine them to be.

I don't mind all that much that it's cold and dark outside. I got outside into the sunshine several times in the course my day today. I expect to see the sun again tomorrow and I'll go to church and I'll feel the spirit, not necessarily because of what's said, but because the music is someething I grew up with and be with people who are trying, for the most part, to be kind.

Dear Stuart,

Your name is getting mentioned more frequently here in the Mohosphere as we approach the 10th anniversary of your death. My own suicide would have followed your's a little over a year later. You took your life on February 25, 2000. My death would probably been sometime between March and August of 2001.

That's when I felt the lowest, but strangely back then you weren't at all on my mind. I'd heard your story, but somehow I didn't relate to it then. I didn't want to commit suicide to send a message, I simply wanted to end the pain. I wonder how many gay Mormon suicides are more like mine almost was, than the more public way you chose to change the scenery.

If I had gone through with it, I probably wouldn't have left a note. I might have even tried to make it look like an accident. But when I felt my most discouraged, rather than plan my exit, I tried to find a way to hang on. Maybe you did that, too. Maybe if I'd been in your shoes, I'd have done what you did, but I was in my shoes.

So what happened? Well your story is still being told and so is mine. Your story is told by others. Your parents tell it. Those who knew you tell it, but mostly I think, your story gets told by those who didn't know you at all. Your story continues to evolve without you. Perhaps it will always do so.

My story I continues to evolve, too, but at least I'm here still adding to it. Some of it is here in my blog. My journals have some of it. My friends and family have bits and pieces. I guess both of our stories are going to go on and on, you're just not in a place where you can still actively contribute to the process.

Or are you? Maybe you and presidents Kimball and Hinckley are talking. Maybe Elders Faust, Maxwell and Brown are in the discussion, too. Maybe you have had some meetings with Evan Stephens, and I sometimes wonder if he's still writing hymns. Maybe all of you are trying to send some messages to all of us and we're just not paying attention.

I want to believe that it's not just your mortal life and death that have made a difference to so many of us. I want to believe that it is also the life you continue to lead. That's what I want to believe.

What I do know is that I'm glad to be alive. I'm glad there are such things as suicide helplines, counselors, medications, prayer, scriptures, loving family, amazing friends and a compassionate Bishop, or two or three. I'm glad I've kept going to church. I'm glad I'm still here in this life, in this neighbohod, in this ward and stake, in this workplace and in my own home. I'm grateful for old friends and some new ones, too. In all of these venues and relationships there is room to learn and grow. I thank you for the role you've played (and are playing?) in helping all of us gain a greater understanding of each other and some of the challenges we face.

I'm looking forward to meeting you someday Stuart, but I hope it isn't anytime soon. I guess that's because I've found out that I pretty much like life. It was awful in 2001 for me, but in 2002 it got a little better, and it 2003 and 2004 it got a ton better and now here we are in the year 2010 and you know what? For a decade that started pretty poorly for me, it's been pretty good. What's amazing is that I don't think these good years would have been possible without that dark time in my life in 2001. It was terrible, but it was also instructional.

I hope you get a chance to read this. I just wish you were still here with us.

See you on the other side,
Ned

Early in April

On April 3, 2009 a balding, somewhat overweight man in his fifties entered a Salt Lake City pastry shop, ordering a Creme Broulee and a glass of water. He took a seat on a bar stool at a table for two on the same wall as the entrance where he could see anyone walking through the front door before they could see him.

A few minutes later a tall, slightly younger man with thick blond hair quickly walked through the front door. The guy with the Creme Broulee wondered, "Is that him?" just as the younger man stopped, turned around and scanned the room. As their eyes met, the man at the table raised his right hand, extending his index finger like handgun and fired off an imaginary shot by lowering his thumb as if squeezing a trigger.

Both men smiled and nodded as if they'd known each other since childhood, but actually it was their first face-to-face meeting. The younger man had been blogging for almost three years and the older man had read every entry. The older man's blog was only a few months old, but the younger man had also read each of the newcomer's entries.

One of them suggested this "late business lunch" and the other reluctantly agreed. They engaged in animated conversation long after consuming their gourmet desserts. The discussion continued as they walked to their respective vehicles. More laughter ensued. They both savored a long hug and then talked even more. Wallets opened. They narrated family photos and exchanged business cards. A second hug lasted longer than the first. This afternoon snack in early April was neither the beginning nor the end of their friendship.

First Crush - Short Version

[In response to a reader who thought the other version was too long, here's the the short version. The original is 2418 words, this is a mere 390.]

During my first couple of days of junior high, I was walking to class at the Seminary building. I'm about 25 feet from the front door and the door opens and Kent walks out. It was one of those moments that almost takes on a surreal, slow motion feeling when I look back on it. He's alone. He's carrying his books. He's got thick curly hair and the most wonderful brown eyes, and he's laughing and happy and moves like a gazelle. He's easy and confident in his stride. He likes himself and I instantly like this new Kent I'd hardly even noticed before.

Many years later, decades later, I was walking through an office buildlng and I saw Kent's name on the door of this tiny little office off in the corner in a dark hallway and it brought all this back instantly. I could see through the glass door that he was in there behind his desk. So I knocked, and he looked up and motioned for me to come in. I introduced myself and he remembered me from being in his ward all those years ago. I asked him about his family and he asked me about mine. I was in there maybe five minutes max. He wasn't at all like I had remembered and idealized him. He'd lost his most of his thick curly, sandy brown hair and what was left was thinning and gray. His face was puffy and he wore thick bifocal glasses. My beautiful handsome Kent had turned into a middle aged man with gut--not a big beer belly, but a gut nonetheless--just like the one I carry around.



And when he touched me--the handshake that is--there was no magic, no electricity. It was just a handshake, it wasn't firm and manly, just kind of soft and half hearted like years in that little, cramped office had drained all the vitality out of this once virile young man who was now just an old married man like me, doing his best to provide for his family, working a job he probably wasn't exactly in love with, but he did love his wife and kids and so it was all OK. He was being true to his loves and his loved ones and I had to respect him for that.

First Crush

Ned: I don't really want to write about my first crush.

Shawn: Why not? I bet it would be an interesting story.

Ned: You're right it would be interesting, but I'm afraid.

Shawn: What are you afraid of? You don't seem to me like the kind of guy who is intimidated by fears. Anyone who has lived the life you have can hold his head up high.

Ned: Well Shawn that just goes to show that you've seen the me I want you to see.

Shawn: But I want to see more. That's why your first crush story might be a good idea to tell. Hey, I'll
respect your privacy. It's not like I'm going to go publish a blog about what you tell me.

Ned: Thanks for that. I know I can trust you. After all I created you from the guys I've trusted and loved and yes, crushed upon.

Shawn: Was I your first crush?

Ned: You're way too young for that, but you could have been if I'd met you back in the seventh grade.

Shawn: Was that when you first crushed?

Ned: You really want to know, don't you? Well I'll tell you what I can. It's kind of silly really.

Shawn: Quit worrying, just tell me, if you want to that is.

Ned: Well his name was and is Kent. He lived in my ward but since I hardly ever went to church, I hadn't seen him for a long time. Maybe I'd seen him, but I hadn't noticed him. He must have been a couple of years older. So when I hit seventh grade he was a ninth grader and I really hadn't seen him, or noticed him like I said, for a couple of years.

So it was fall and it was my first couple of days of junior high. I enrolled in a Seminary class and I was walking to class at the Seminary building. I'm about 25 feet from the front door and the door opens and Kent walks out. It was one of those moments that almost takes on a surreal, slow motion feeling when I look back on it. He's alone. He's carrying his books.

The first thing I notice is not that it's Kent but that there's his tall, incredibly handsome 9th grader walking out the doors. And then I notice it's Kent, the guy in my ward. He's the same person, but he's not little anymore, but he's way different, he's tall, dark and handsome, just like the cliche that now didn't seem so corny all of a sudden.

He's got thick curly hair and the most wonderful brown eyes, and he's laughing and happy and moves like a gazelle. He's easy and confident in his stride. He likes himself and I instantly like this new Kent I'd hardly even noticed before.

I couldn't take my eyes off of him and it really was the first time I'd ever noticed such a strong feeling about another guy, other than maybe when I dreamed about Jesus.

Shawn: Did he talk to you? What did you do?

Ned: I really don't remember. He might have said hello. Or maybe it's just that our eyes met. Or maybe not even that. He might not even have seen or acknowledged seeing me. I just know I saw him and I thought "Oh my gosh, that's Kent and he's incredibly wonderful now. I can't believe how tall and handsome he is. He didnt' just look good, he looked great."

Shawn: And, yes, so what happened?

Ned: I went to class. I didn't talk to him and I tried to not think about him, but it was useless. Something about Kent not only caught my eye, but it branded itself into my gut. You remember the old TV series "Branded?" It had this song, "Branded, scorned was the one who ran, what do yo do when you're branded and you know you're a man."

Shawn: No clue about that. It never made it into the reruns.

Ned: I sometimes forget my advanced age especially when I think about Kent.

Shawn: So what else? Did you guys get to know each other? Was he like a big brother to you?

Ned: No, nothing like that. I was too intimidated. I may have seen him many times after that, I don't know. But the scene that I remember is just what I told you.

Shawn: That's it. No story. No more details?

Ned: That's all that happened. Just a few seconds on the way to Seminary. But it was powerful and memorable because it was the first time I thought, "Wow, I really like boys." I'd had elementary school girlfriends, but they were just fun and pretty and I liked talking to them. But with Kent the feeling was instant and strong and unforgettable. Are you familiar with the musical "Sunset Boulevard" and the song "With one Look"?

Shawn: Sorry bud, you know I'm not really into show tunes. If you ask me about basketball players and sports stats I can get into trivia with you. But tell me anyway. What were you going to say?

Ned: Well the song is sung by Norma Desmond. She's an aging star of the silent era and she's remembering and describing how audiences reacted to her beauty and talent. Here's what she sings:

With one look I can break your heart
With one look I play every part
I can make your sad heart sing
With one look you'll know all you need to know

With one smile I'm the girl next door
All the love that you've hungered for
When I speak it's with my soul
I can play any role

No words can tell the stories my eyes tell
Watch me when I frown, you can't write that down
You know I'm right, it's there in black and white
When I look your way, you'll hear what I say

Yes, with one look I put words to shame
Just one look sets the screen aflame
Silent music starts to play
One tear in my eye makes the whole world cry.

Shawn: Umm, that real nice Ned, but I don't get it. What does that have to do with your first crush?

Ned: Well Kent didn't even give me one look, or if he did I don't remember it, but just seeing him, just being within a few feet of him had that kind of emotional power that Norma is singing about. Those few seconds didn't break my heart, but they revealed my heart to me. I'd found guys interesting before, but suddenly there was this compelling element.

I'd heard about guys going through puberty and suddenly noticing girls in a different way. Girls who hadn't been that interesting before suddenly became different, wonderful, noticeable. The world changed. Like in the Wizard of Oz when the sepia becomes Technicolor.

Shawn: I remember when the Wizard of Oz used to be shown on TV, like every year, sure. But it's such a long movie, I'd say, "Oh here we go again." If it was good weather, I'd go outside and try to find someone to throw a football around with or shoot hoops or play catch with a softball and my favor mitt. Man I loved that mitt. But I do remember my sisters were really into the Wizard of Oz.

Ned: So in the film, the color pallet changes from black and white to color.

Shawn: Yeah, you said that already, so why is that such a big deal? I'm trying to follow you here Ned, I really am.

Ned: Well when I saw Kent that first time when I was in seventh grade the color didn't change. I didn't break my stride. But inside something definitely changed that was just a dramatic as black and white changing to color.

Shawn: To be honest with you Ned, I still don't get it, but I can tell it's important to you. It does reminds me that I do remember dancing with girls when I was in junior high. They did seem differernt to me and I can remember with one it was pretty cool cause were dancing close and I started to get a hard on and then when I went to take a piss later there was this little wet spot on my boxers, precum. Pretty cool I felt like I was quite the stud. Was it like that? You physically reacted to him?

Ned: No, not there and then. I was going to Seminary for crying out loud. I wasn't dancing with him. I wouldn't even have thought of dancing with him. But yeah, probably later when I thought about him, when I was lying in bed at night, I might have started to get hard. But I wouldn't let myself think about those things, not in real life. But in my dreams, yeah. It wasn't with girls, and that was when I started to know I wasn't like most guy, because for me the excitment was with not with girls but with someone like Kent, not Kent himself, he was untouchable, but someone like him, someone in my imagination, and it was a guy not a girl.

Shawn: OK well that does fit a little better with my idea of how a first crush might start out.

Ned: There's something else I want to tell you. Many years later, decades later, I was walking through an office buildlng and I saw Kent's name on the door of this tiny little office off in the corner in a dark hallway and it brought all this back instantly.

I could see through the glass door that he was in there behind his desk. So I knocked, and he looked up and motioned for me to come in. I introduced myself and he remembered me from being in his ward all those years ago. I asked him about his family and he asked me about mine. I was in there maybe five minutes max.

Shawn: What was that like?

Ned: It was strange. He wasn't at all like I had remembered and idealized him. He'd lost his most of his thick curly, sandy brown hair and what was left was thinning and gray. His face was puffy and he wore thick bifocal glasses. He had big color photo of his wife and kids by his computer. When he stood up to shake my hand he was no longer taller than me and what I'm sure used to be washboard abs had melted into a gut hidden behind a tired white shirt and a tie that should have been donated to Deseret Industries.

My beautiful handsome Kent had turned into a middle aged man with gut--not a big beer belly, but a gut nonetheless--just like the one I carry around.

And when he touched me--the handshake that is--there was no magic, no electricity. It was just a handshake, it wasn't firm and manly, just kind of soft and half hearted like years in that little, cramped office had drained all the vitality out of this once virile young man who was now just an old married man like me, doing his best to provide for his family, working a job he probably wasn't exactly in love with, but he did love his wife and kids and so it was all OK. He was being true to his loves and his loved ones and I had to respect him for that.

Shawn: So basically meeting him was a disappointment?

Ned: Not entirely. I know I keep comparing this whole thing to the movies, but do you know that scene from Hook where the boys in Neverland are trying to figure out if Robin Williams really is a grown up version of Peter Pan.

Shawn: Sorry Ned, it's another movie moment I seem to have missed. Ask me about the NBA or the NFL and I'd be right there with you. But go ahead, tell me anyway.

Ned: Well here's the setup and the line is from this little kid named Pockets, one of the lost boys who don't believe Peter Banning is Peter Pan, but Pockets touches his Peter's face and looks into his eyes and finally recognizes him and says "Oh, there you are, Peter!"

It was like that in Kent's office, I didn't touch his face, of couse, but as we talked I looked into his eyes and behind the thick glasses it was like "Oh, there you are, Kent!" But of course I didn't saying anything.

Shawn: So you guys became friends as adults?

Ned: Not really. I mean we'd say hello if we saw each other, I've seen him a couple of times and we have said hello. But no, he's not my good pal or anything.

Shawn: So do still have a crush on him?

Ned: Again it's yes and no. There's very little chemistry between the adult Ned and the adult Kent. I mean he's a nice guy and I don't dislike him, but I'd never seek him out. But that moment as he walked out of the Seminary building, that moment when I knew without a doubt that I really, really liked guys, that moment is still very real and alive. So yes, in that sense, 13-year-old Ned still has a crush on 15-year-old Kent. It's not just a memory. It's still real in a cinematic sort of way.

Shawn: Are you glad you told me?

Ned: Yeah. Thanks for listening. You know someday when we have more time, I'll have to tell you about some other crushes I've had and one I have right now.

Shawn: Let me guess. It's probably for this tall younger man who cares more about sports than old movies.

Ned: (silence)

Shawn: My guess is that one of your current crushes is on this entirely straight young father you'd like to talk to, and sometimes do talk with, but you often feel shy when you're around him. He's pretty comfortable with you, but you're not so comfortable with him. It's like you're afraid that if he knew the real you, you think he'd have nothing to do with you. That's my guess, but it's just a guess.

Ned: Not bad, Shawn, not bad at all, but hey I gotta go. Thanks for your time, though. It's always good to be with you. Tell your sweet wife and kids hello for me.

Darkness and dawn

Am I broken, discouraged and sick or just tired?

Have I failed, fallen and crashed or just paused?

Will I ever again feel hope, happiness and love, or just numbness?

Can I hold on, hold out and hold fast, or just let go?

Does this darkness give way to dawn, or only grow darker?

Am I destined to learn, grow and change, or I am damned?

Have I given up, given in and given out, or am I still gaining?

Will this winter give way to spring and summer, or will this month be my last?

Can I make it through this hour, this night, the day ahead, or just stop trying?

Does prayer still calm my heart and mind, or are my words empty?

Am I strong, healthy and sure, or weak, ill and unsteady?

Have I been blessed by adversity or have I become damaged goods?

Will I allow peace into my heart, or is it so broken that it won't hold anything?

Can the warmth of a remembered embrace nurture me still?

Do I doubt my beliefs and believe my doubts?

Or do I know beyond belief that there is purpose and redemption?

That I can follow, forgive and be forgiven?

That my heart still beats, that my breath still brings oxygen to brain and muscle.

That my fingers still move and e ven witgh eyes closed they can find the keys. That words will fall from my hands as easily as prayers ascend to heaven. That my ears can still hear. I can hear the clock in the kitchen, the murmur of television down the hallway and around the corner. I know that these words could be published in seconds or minutes or not at all. The choice is mine. I still know that my life means something, that I make a difference and that I am not finished. That dawn follows the darkness, that long winter nights have already given way to longer days. That I am no longer greeted by darkness as I leave work. That there was some sunshine and blue sky today. That today I did go to work and even got a few things done. That I have smiled and laughed with loved ones this very hour, this day, over the weekend and every day I can remember for a long, long time. It is winter. But hey, the furnace just started. The thermostat sensed that it was time for that system in the basement to get to work.

a repeat

Almost always, the creative dedicated minority has made the world better.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

Discrimination is a hellhound that gnaws at Negroes in every waking moment of their lives to remind them that the lie of their inferiority is accepted as truth in the society dominating them.

Human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted.

-Martin Luther King, Jr.

When Your Crush Responds

How long can a crush last? And what happens when you're back in touch with a person you crushed on years ago? I've wondered about these questions because one of my earliest crushes, a friend from high school, and I are back in touch at least via social networking and phone. He now lives several states away. Another friend who I worked with years ago also recently friended me on Facebook. He's relatively nearby, only about four hours by car. After more than a decade in both cases, I'm surprised how strong the connection feels. Anyone else have similar experiences?

One Year Blogiversary

One year ago today I launched this blog with faith that it would lead somewhere positive.

Now I'm so grateful I did. Thanks to all who have reached out to me in friendship.

Exactly what's ahead I'm not sure, but year one has been a great start.

Yes, you matter. Yes, we'll read. Yes, we'll comment. I've receieved so many yesses.

Each entry, each photo, each response--they do all add up.

A few stats: 68 posts, 205 comments; 750 profile views.

Reaching out has its rewards.

But numbers aside,what have I learned and gained? So many things, gifts, qualities:

Learning, leading, leaning, loving, laughter

Opportunities, organizations, organizing

Giving, getting, gladness, growth, gain, Gaga (Lady)

Introspection, illumination, improvement, involvement

Variety, virtue, villification, vision

Energy, enthusiasm, entertainment

Record keeping, realism

Seeking, solving, straight thinking ;)

Amazing, creative, kind, loving men, women and children

Recreation, reading, research, revolution

Yielding and yearning.

Happy Kindling New Year

Kindle, it used to be a perfectly acceptable verb and now, thanks to Amazon, it's a noun and brand. Nonetheless I like some of the associated definitions. Kindling works as either a noun or a verb:

• material for starting a fire
• ignition: the act of setting something on fire

And kindle, as a verb, has several evocative meanings:

• kindle - catch fire; "The dried grass of the prairie kindled, spreading the flames for miles"
• kindle - cause to start burning; "The setting sun kindled the sky with oranges and reds"
• kindle - arouse: call forth (emotions, feelings, and responses); "arouse pity"; "raise a smile"; "evoke sympathy"

I thought of the word this morning in relation to scripture reading of all things. Maybe trying to jump into daily scripture reading is like trying to ignite a large block of wood. You'll waste your match unless you have some kindling. So I'm going to start 2010 by taking a look through my marked copies of the scriptures. To me that's like getting a fire started with some kindling. I'd like to be a strong spiritually as the pixilated guy appears, of course I'd also like to be that strong physically, mentally, financially, romantically--well you name it. Here's to kindling strength in each other, in our loved ones, and in ourselves in the New Year.

So those are a few of my thoughts on this first day of the year. What do you think? As you look ahead what do you see on the horizon, or perhaps just beyond it, for the year ahead?

The Long Middle

Great commentary on the significance of 2009 in our nation's debate about gay marriage. Two of the highlights:

• "Although public-opinion fundamentals didn't change in 2009; the politics of gay marriage did. Here are the ways the year marked a shift to what a storyteller might call the 'long middle.' "

• "After Prop. 8, however, many heterosexuals embraced gay marriage, taking ownership of an issue that they have come to view as the next great civil rights battle. For same-sex marriage advocates, the emergence of a dedicated core of straight supporters is a sea change."

Read there whole article, here:

http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/commentary/la-oe-rauch27-2009dec27,0,4488760.story

My Gift to You: Twelve Minutes of Christmas

I wanted to give each of you something for Christmas. I considered this:

http://www.cafepress.com/+peace_love_equality_ash_grey_tshirt,24967454

And this:

http://www.cafepress.com/+then_you_win_sticker_rectangular,83782476

But decided instead on something homemade, something practical but thoughful, something you could use now and later. And here it is, my gift to you, The 12 Minutes of Christmas.

1. minute of laughter
2. minutes of smiling
3. minutes of meditation
4. minutes of music
5. minutes of silence
6. minutes of showering
7. minutes of writing
8. minutes of walking
9. minutes of napping
10. minutes of reading
11. minutes of massage
12. minutes of conversation

May you use them this holiday and throughout your life.

Merry Christmas!

Ned

Attempted Mashup

There is a certain train wreck quality to this, but...

Now that you've heard the concept, how about someone with some real mashup software and musical ability stepping up to bat? Boskers, does this give you enough to go on for a jazz improvisation?

(Note: The total audio is only 2:10 but for some reason when I uploaded to blogger, there's all this additional silence on the end. Oh well, it was my forth attempt, the other three failed, so I'm just going to leave it as is.)

Medley challenge anyone?

I've got an idea for a Christmas medley. Not necessarily Judy Garland meets Jimmy Durante, but something like this:

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be light

Make someone happy

Make just one someone happy

From now on our troubles with

Be out of sight

Make just one heart the heart that you sing to

One smile that cheers you

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

make the Yule-tide gay

Love is the answer

Someone to love is the answer

From now on all our troubles will

Be miles away

Once again as in olden times

Happy golden times of your

Faithful friends who are dear to us

Gather near to us once more

Through the years we all

Will be together

If the fates allow

High a shining star

Upon the highest bough

And have yourself a

Merry little Christmas now

Make someone happy

Make just one someone happy

And you will be happy, too.

I can kind of imagine it, but can it really be done and work? Well if anyone wants to give it a try I'd love to hear what you come up with. Moreover, perhaps the secret to having a happy holiday is to keep it simple or "little" and take delight in those small, one-one-one opportunities when you make someone happy, just "one someone" even if only for a few moments.

p.s. Is this even a medley with just combining two songs, or is that something else?

Not Saying Much

It's not that I don't want to talk. It's not that I can't or won't. I guess if I asked myself some questions that might break the ice a bit. How am I doing? OK, some days better than OK. I'm not getting as much exercise as I used to, but I'm shoveling a lot more snow. Maybe it's a wash.

Am I counting my blessings? Sure. A job in this economy. A fine family. The comforts of religion and somewhat clear thinking. The comforts of hazy thinking, too. Friends near and far, known and unknown, past present and future, gay and straight and some in between like me. A dog and a cat, a desk and a rug, a warm home and warm memories. People I care about and people who care about me. Things not to take for granted. Health, pharmaceuticals, books, music and laughter. Smiles, my own and those of others. Ten fingers, ten toes and connections from all of them to my brain. Mind, heart, soul. The ability to talk and listen, see and sense, write and read, maybe even some math if there's a calculator nearby (oh Sarah, if I'd only had real math teachers like you in my youth) , light, shadow, color. Notes, letters, pencils and pens. I can count blessings and it's easy to lose track of the count.

Well I said I wouldn't say much, and I haven't, but I've said more than I thought I would. The fingers can still hit the keys, that's not too bad for a cold Sunday night in December.

Are you feeling SAD?

One of our fellow bloggers has written how I sometimes feel at this time of year, "I'm tired and grumpy." In response, I wrote the following and decided to cross post it here:

As far as feeling in a gray zone, that is typical

for many people as we get into the darkest time of the year. Take a look at this article on SAD. My winter routine is to try to get outdoors for a few minutes on my lunch hour when the sun is shining. Exercise also helps. I know your mileage may vary. No matter the cause, feeling gray or disconnected is hard--be it at Christmastime or the 4th of July. Fortunately we live in an age when many positive options are available to take advantage of. What options do you see that might help?"

What do you my reader(s) say? Any other ideas to carry this discussion forward?