Lessons on Love from the Back of the Pew

Saturday marked the one year anniversary of the death of the most important man in my life, my paternal grandfather. Despite the desire of each of his grandchildren to be his one and only favorite, somehow, looking back, I now understand that he saw the same amount of value in each of us, and that is not something that can be quantified. I learned so much from him: how to shoot a gun, how to remove a splinter, and how to be a good, kind and compassionate human-being under any circumstances. [excerpt

The Person I Am Becoming

Death, among other things, forces us to confront our own mortality, to question how we view ourselves in relation to others, to relive memories be they fond or not so much. Over the past month, I lost both a grandfather -a quiet, intense, intelligent man who fostered in me a love for ice-cream and old movies- and a grandmother -the first family member to tell me it was OK to be queer. Their deaths left me scattered. My life became a dorm room floor during finals: covered in a mixture of clean and dirty clothing, food remains, and long-forgotten notes. For days, I stared at the mess, uncertain as to where to start…cleaning…picking up the pieces. [excerpt

Two Is Not Always Better Than One

Since moving to Berlin in January for my semester abroad, I have witnessed many fantastic scenes while riding the U-Bahn. Ranging from a suit-clad man hurdle-jumping into the train to women in hijabs gossiping about another passenger in a burqa, my glimpses of Berlin never cease to amaze me, but last week, as I watched a family say goodbye, the children tearfully waving long after the train left, I shot back to my own tearful goodbyes. The exchange I saw was so loving, the exact opposite of all those years I transferred from one parent to the other: every Monday, every other Thursday, every holiday, and every birthday. [excerpt

Cannons to Cannon

I’ll never forget the first moment, I truly realized who Batman was. No, I’m not talking about (SARCASTIC SPOILER ALERT) his alternate identity as Bruce Wayne, but instead his depth as a character, his uncompromising morals and never-ending cycle of battles with the Joker. Batman, his mythology, and his backstory encompass so much more than the movies; he is alive for me in a way he will never be on screen. From an early age, comics provided my escape; Batman was there to drop kick depression and side-swipe thoughts of suicide. [excerpt

The Cross in My Closet

All this changed when I turned fourteen. Suddenly the quiet peace was shattered by my raucous, rebellious response to the “Adam and Eve Not Ann and Eve“ chanted by my neighbors, teachers, and family. The solace I once felt during prayer became a black hole of hate; instead of listening for words of kindness, instead of finding serenity, I spit in the faces of my family, friends, and religion. Hoping to purge my body of its new found, fiery anger, I turned to a priest who told me there could be no salvation: “man shall not lie with man…it is an abomination“. The calming repetitions of Hail Marys and Glory Bes mixed with the damning words of my priest; I slammed the door on what was once an important part of my life. After all, when “God Hates Fags“, isn’t that what I was supposed to do. Set my cross on fire, wall it up in my closet, and forget it ever existed. [excerpt

Because I Am

Why? “Because I am a Republican!” Why? “Because I am a Democrat!” Why? “Because I am a Christian!” Why? In America, religion and politics are not merely taboo dinner topics; it is strongly advised that you don’t discuss either one in nearly all situations. [excerpt