Is Being Gay A Sin? Part One

Part One

What? Is Being Gay A Sin? Why in the… Why?…

Holy Cow, Michael! What a topic for a fluffy-non-religious-non-political writer.  Have you lost your mind? Why would you write about this? Why? Well, because.

First things first, I am not mentally ill. I am not under any delusions of grandeur. I don’t harbor any secret desire to stir up trouble or even “make a difference”. I am a realist at heart. And my realism and possibly even…not pessimism, but more existentialism cause me to know that most people will probably never read this little essay. It’s a collection of studies and letters I wrote to my parents that are becoming blogs and even a book in the next couple of years. I don’t know if people will read it. And even if they do, they will mostly likely have an opinion formed before they even read this far. And those opinions will likely not change because of anything I write.

At least not now... and not here. Not like this…

Most people already have a mindset and a completely rote response to everything they do in life. This is a sad, sad fact in today’s society. It’s also just a sad fact of life, at least now. I like thinkers and questioners. I like people that ask “Why?” I like it when people don’t take answers at face value and really want to know the why of something instead of blindly assimilating information and moving on to the next blind assimilation. But… I don’t think that society, technology, or even how we are groomed and trained for social interaction will change for the better. It will most likely keep moving at its current pace and speed towards total integration and accessibility. And let me add this to that last sentence: that speed seems to be hurtling our society into integration and accessibility at a rate that boggles the mind.  

So, is being gay a sin?

It’s a very simple way that I view this:

• If you are uber-conservative, it is a safe bet that you won’t listen with an open mind or heart on this hot topic. It is probably going to already be a sin in your mind. It will probably stay a sin in your mind. In my experience with talking to many families and my own, you will not listen to me, or anything that I have to say about this.
• If you are uber-liberal, it is a safe bet that you already do not think it’s wrong, or don’t want to listen to any scriptures denouncing this subject. It is my experience that you will make a blanket assumption to say it’s okay, and will not be a sin in your mind. It will never be a sin. And you will not listen to me, my reasoning, or anything I have to offer on this subject.

So, I admit freely, no. No.  I have no delusions here. I am all too aware that this small blog entry will not solve THIS answer for such a large, heated topic in our culture and religions. This is a very emotional and sensitive topic that is a very open ended discussion to which no real answer is ever afforded.

I. Mean. Ever.

People will never all be taught or agree one way or the other. People will always have a memory, or an emotional tie to either being told or taught that it’s wrong, or that it’s okay. And I have no notion of fixing this topic for anyone, other than myself. I only researched the topic because of college classes a long time ago [NOTE: I was in seminary getting my double degrees in Theology and Music], and because, personally, I like to make sure I know what I believe and why I believe it.

If you are gay, gay-friendly, or liberal, there is a great chance that you will think I am being too nice or possibly giving too much to the conservative view. On the flip side of that coin, if you are conservative, you may think I am giving too much to the pro-gay side or agenda. Both views could be correct. Maybe I am. Maybe I am not pro-gay enough. Maybe I am too conservative in my views, and maybe even… I am not a very good gay man. Or, maybe I am just right. Just conservative enough to make someone conservative read this. And gay enough to relate to someone that would normally never listen or entertain the scriptural debate due to years of having it hammered down on them like a weapon. The thing is... most people that are anti-homosexual use quotes from the Bible. And liberals have developed very snarky responses to those scriptures. But the problem I have with the whole argument or discussion is that both sides usually don’t know the quotes. Most can only paraphrase one from the Old Testament, and they are not committed to finding out about the context of the scripture, the original language used in translating the scripture, and eventually put up a wall of ignorance. Yes, I just said a wall of ignorance. And they do it on both sides of the argument. Sadly, as with any wall, it tends to become a very thick wall. I’ve been there. I’ve used it. And to be honest, once built and made into a comfy cell, it’s difficult to escape and broaden anyone’s personal belief system or mindset.

I don’t say that to condemn. I truly do not. Having been raised in a religious home, I will be the first to admit that it IS easier to be spoon fed by a preacher on Sunday than to do any reading or research on your own. Honestly, I almost hate having to dig through old books from my days in seminary. I hate having to proof (and then prove) the material I am using as information by going back to my own concordances and Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic texts and dictionaries. It can be a huge undertaking, it can seem endless. The rabbit trails keep leading to rabbit trails and more digging. And I eventually just get tired, or want a drink. But, if you are serious, and you genuinely want to know, all of the boring research doesn’t seem so bad. Or so boring… So, the big fuss is this: There are basically six main scriptures used by religious conservatives to discuss homosexuality:

• Genesis 19:5 – “Bring them out so we may know them”
• Leviticus 18:22 – “You shall not lie with a male as those who lie with a female; it is an abomination."
• Leviticus 20:13 – “If a man lies with a male as those who lie with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination and they shall surely be put to death."
• Romans 1:26-27 – “For this reason God gave them over to degrading passions: for their women exchanged the natural use for that which is against nature.  And in the same way also the men abandoned the natural use of the woman and burned in their desire toward one another, men with men committing indecent acts and receiving in their own persons the due penalty for their error." 
• I Corinthians 6:9 ­– "The unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God. So do not be deceived; neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor homosexuals, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers, shall inherit the realm of God."
• I Timothy 1:9-10 – “Law is not made for a righteous person but for those who are lawless and rebellious, for the ungodly and sinners, for the unholy and profane, for those who kill their fathers or mothers, for murderers and fornicators and homosexuals and kidnappers and liars and perjurers, and whatever else is contrary to sound (healthy) teaching."

That’s it. That’s all. This is the big fuss that has plagued mankind for centuries and caused untold division and grief. And this has been occurring and happening on both side of the argument.

If you are going to actually read all of this (I still get humbled and awed that people read what I write), and these blogs on the topic, I only ask that you read with an open mind, and that you read in context, and that you read the entire chapter as well. It will give you a better preparation for each passage.  For Romans 1:26-27, read the first 3 chapters of Romans.  Also, I would sincerely recommend reading Genesis 38 for a clearer picture and a better understanding of the Old Testament attitudes about men and women, their relationships towards one another, sex, and the necessity of producing heirs and continuing the human race. It will also shed light over the issues of the control of men over women, the double standard for men and women, and other sexuality issues. Now, I am a guy that usually writes for entertainment. I write for pleasure. I look at my life and write things that are funny. But, this is serious stuff. I don’t want you, as the Reader, to feel like I am giving you homework. But I am not asking you to blindly believe me, to blindly trust me, and to merely use this writing to soothe your own personal belief system. I ask that you read what I write, and then verify what I have presented. I will try to give you as much information as possible in the writing itself. No writer wants the reader to feel like they need to stop reading, complete an assignment, and then pick back up and continue. This isn’t meant to be painful. It’s meant to be a personal memoir of my own coming out, and the journey I took by studying the Bible and learning to accept myself.

That’s why I am writing this. Because of all of this… for the gay boys, for straight men …for all women …because I am personally curious …because it would have been helpful to me when I wanted information. I mean, someone has to write it all down, right?

The Bible has often been described as a sword, and it is. It’s a powerful and terrible weapon in fighting to be a better person. In fighting “the devil” and in trying to overcome “evil” and things that might hinder you living your best and more complete life. But I think, in context, that probably should have been worded as scalpel. Swords are for war and for battle. Those are the times when you need to really dig deep. However, scalpels are for when you are examining your heart and your soul, and when you are making painful changes and performing spiritual surgery on yourself, would you hack away with a sword, or carefully use a scalpel. Do you, Reader, understand my point? There is no reason to take a sword and hack away at a Christian brother or sister, or even a non-Christian man or woman and do irreparable damage with the Bible. Would you do that in person just because of different beliefs? Because of race? Because of nationality? That’s just sick. It’s sick and wrong and COMPLETELY against the very teachings of Christianity.

Thank God, that I was raised to study, to learn, and to KNOW BETTER for so much of the things that so many conservatives do to people in this day and age. And no, I wasn’t hurt very badly personally, but I see it all around me. Now, I don’t share some of the horrible coming out story with many, many gay people. No one has ever openly or meanly gay bashed me. My parents have never been anything but loving (granted, if you read much of my stuff, you realize that them showing love is definitely “in their own ways”, as much as they could…) Sure, I had my trials and tribulations on the road to growing up, coming out, and then finding myself. Many speed bumps were crossed. Some were crossed at alarming speeds and I would never want to repeat those things. And there are many things that I don’t particularly like remembering, even in the present day. There were also things that just… hurt… no matter “how good I had it”.

But, that isn’t necessarily a “gay” thing, is it? Didn’t everybody have “angst” growing up? Didn’t everyone want to be taller/shorter/thinner/buffer/different hair/no zits, etc? I would assume that everyone has some embarrassing adolescent story about an inopportune boner, or getting dumped, or not “fitting in” with whatever assumed cool crowd of the day was happening. Right?? <…cue the sound of chirping crickets…> No? Just me?

So, because of the way I grew up, I don’t really equate a lot of my teen angst to being gay. I equate most of it to selfish parents. Oblivious grandparents… Codes of secrecy for dysfunctional families in the deep gothic southern rural areas… There are any number of things I don’t like to remember, relive, or even remain in touch with those people, family or not.  I don’t ever want to repeat the years with my first stepfather or his weird brand of humor, ridicule, and eventually mental and physical abuse. I never want to see certain drugs again in my life because of my natural father and my stepmother. But those things are not gender, race, or orientation specific. And those stories, while they haunt me, are not integral to my “coming of age” or my self-realization of my own sexuality. They had nothing to do with it… nothing. Zilch. Nada.

Where are you going with this, Michael? Reader, I say ALL of that to say this:

In the spirit of Full Disclosure, you do need to understand that I am gay. I’m gay. Gay, gay, gay. That does slightly bias my views. Secondly, you need to understand that I identify as a Christian. That also does slightly bias my views of Christianity and the supporting scriptures of Christianity. I may not believe the typical-run-of-the-mill version of Christianity, but I know I believe in God. And I grew up with my mother in a very conservative home with ministry oriented parents and I even attended seminary (don’t faint – yes, seminary. Yes, I graduated. Yes, I loved it.) I was taught that being gay was a sin. I was raised that way from childhood, through college, and through seminary. It definitely was a very large obstacle in coming out or admitting I was gay. It made it hard as hell, and that’s one reason I began this journey years ago to research these Scriptures for MYSELF, and to KNOW what I personally believed. It has made the world of difference I needed. It made it so much easier to rebut, respond, and eventually discount many of the undereducated and uninformed opinions that were presented to me. And I am very thankful that I was afforded the opportunities to study, learn, and know those things.

I, myself, have few issues with anyone’s lifestyle choices. I try to offer no judgments. And as I am learning in my own journey, I apparently have very few boundaries. The one thing I think that was definitely “nurture” versus “nature” is that I came out of my childhood with a wellspring of life experience that has made me this way. It’s hard to judge a friend that got a little too drunk when you’ve had to pick a methed-out parent up off of the bathroom floor and put them to bed before you got dressed for junior high, y’know?? Why should someone else’s declaration of something taboo bother me, when, every two weeks, I was raised in such a polar opposite world. My natural father and stepmother were crazy – seriously crazy. They did drugs, rode motorcycles, and lived very selfish lives. My mother was very religious and lived in a world that revolved around church. That dichotomy helped me to learn to navigate in almost any setting, but it also taught me the valuable lesson that you have to know what you believe, why you believe it, and to really learn to be yourself.

But it’s not my opinion and judgments that bother me. Well, they don’t bother me lately. I don’t judge, hate, or maliciously try to mislead people. However, it seems to me that there are wide variety of cultures, nations, and regional peoples that DO judge. They DO hate. They DO spew untruths and misconceptions on such a myriad of sub-topics within the umbrella of “Gay” or “homosexual”. And it’s very, very frustrating. Sometimes, once in a great while, it even still hurts. Oh, yeah… you might want to reread that last sentence. Only “once in a while.” This is true with me as with almost every gay I know. The thing is, we have developed a thicker skin, a defense mechanism of bitchiness and hardness that allows very little to hurt anymore in the way of name calling or being denounced as “less than” in society. If you are told you are vile, repulsive, and somehow a mistake your entire life…well, you kind of get over it.

But, I don’t want this to just be an opinion editorial solely based on what I “personally believe” and putting “my own story” out there to touch the hearts of others. If you have ever read my work, or followed me or my writings for any length of time, that’s not my way. I don’t think it ever will be. Well, I hope it won’t be. However, here is what I DO hope: I want to write this piece with facts, from both sides of the argument - pro and con. And fairly present both sides with all facts out. Not just rhetoric and hot button words that bring out emotions.

Hopefully, armed with that knowledge, I CAN promise you that I don’t gloss over the Levitical Law scriptures, or in the Epistles, and I also try to present both sides of the argument. Then (if you read that far) and ONLY then do I insert my own personal story, in my own words. After…

Introduction…

First, I am not an authority on all things homosexual. I am not an authority on all things spiritual. I am a man… a somewhat simple, complicated, human man. I am not writing this series of blogs and chapters to this book to purposefully change the world. I don’t even know if this could change the world or help. I don’t think many would read this, and even be moved. I don’t think that my goal is to do anything other than share some information. Hopefully to offer help, support, and hope to some people that are being abused and downtrodden. And that is based on my OCD personality, and the need to shed light on the actual truth and words from the Bible. I get very antsy when people misquote the Bible, be it with wording or in context, and when they misuse statistics to further their own cause. Second, and very importantly, I began writing this for personal research. I was personally curious and to be clear, the more I see a battle, and a war being waged around me, literally and figuratively, I feel compelled to share information so that people can at least make an educated choice for themselves to know the original Hebrew or Aramaic or Greek scriptures, know the context and times of the writing, as well as the context and times of the translation of those scriptures (that is just as important). THEN they can accept or reject those things for themselves.

There are many well defined views and studies on homosexuality. There are books written, both pro and con, on the subject, and the world at large is STILL up in arms about the gays. There are even subject matter sources on how heterosexuals should respond towards homosexuals and bisexuals. Seriously.

Those gays are just always causing such a ruckus! Can we all not just agree to disagree? Can we all not just live and let live? Well… no. No we cannot. And to be perfectly, frankly, honest - I wouldn’t want to. I don’t want to just be tolerated and then still thought of as “less than”. I don’t want to be something that is brushed aside and it’s okay to be discriminated against or even thought of as something that God doesn’t love or a mistake. And I especially don’t want any of those things when they are propagated by people that haven’t even been decent enough to delve deep and study for themselves where their hatred, bigotry, and ignorance stem from. That kind of puts a burr under my saddle, if you know what I mean.

The Bible, and thus, the rest of the world, basically has two extremes about homosexuality.

• That of most religious fundamentalists, whether Jewish, Christian, Muslim, etc.
• That of most religious progressives, gays, lesbians, bisexuals, human sexuality researchers and therapists.

Most, if not almost all Americans express views somewhere between these extremes - much like a Kinsey scale for view on being gay. And almost everyone has an opinion, and loves to argue about it.

Some basic approaches to analyzing the Bible:

I believe that when you face difficulties, whether in life, or in a culture, or in trying to read and understand the Bible, that prayer, patience, and a positive attitude are key ingredients. No one ever made ANY situation any better by becoming impatient, or by trying to take short cuts. You need to pray about what you believe. Especially if you build your personal belief systems off of the things that you believe the Bible teaches. If you are a mother or father, the responsibility is even greater, because your child needs to be taught what your familial belief structures are and need to be given a frame of reference.

On a personal note, I become very disheartened when people use the Bible to harm other people. It’s a beautiful book, filled with many amazing stories and Holy Scriptures that help to define and comfort people. There are also times when it can shed a light and reprimand you to a better way, a more moral way, of life. All of these things are for the better, and for the good of the people that believe and read the Bible. So, it really does bug me and make me mad enough to chew nails when I read about some idiot on Fox News or MSNBC that knows enough scripture to be dangerous, but has been WAY too lazy to actually delve into the original languages and read political climate context into what was actually happening. Or those well-meaning friends and lazy Christians that just want to help, but only know what they have been taught “growing up”. Those people that just let their pastor tell them what to think, how to live, what to wear, and where to go. Those people to me are just like the Pharisees and the Sadducees - spiritually fat, little babies. They don’t want any meat and potatoes, they just want milk. They have no real connection to God or the scriptures, they are just languishing and soaking up whatever they can, and spitting it back up without ever really digesting the nutrients of the Bible that could help them grow into spiritual adults.

At some point, we all need to just take a deep breath, and stop fighting. It’s silly. It’s stupid. It’s pointless. I am not here to advocate anything of a political nature; I am here to present information. To report on information and translation of old books and scriptures. So, don’t get all riled up over the current political climate. Take a breath, read the information, say a prayer, and make up your own mind. Think for yourself. Let God lead you to paths of truth and righteousness. All of the fighting and name calling and ignorance need to stop. If you are in 2012 and can’t either research for yourself, you are too lazy, or stupid to be in National discussions about the issue. I am calling out people from both sides of the gay/sin argument that are misquoting scripture and misusing scripture to fight each other. It’s silly. It’s selfish, and it’s not pleasing to God on either side. You ALL look like idiots - idiots that fight and cause division rather than read, research, and try to educate. I get sick of it on both sides – both the lazy conservatives that just assume they are correct, and the undereducated gays trying to respond to attacks. I realize the gays were the underdog and that so, so, SO many gays, sadly, have chosen to abdicate their Christianity. That breaks my heart, but then they try to use the scriptures to respond to the conservatives. Which is it? You do or do not believe? You can’t have it both ways either… We all need to stop. We all need to educate ourselves, and we all need to remember that in civilized society, it’s okay to disagree without blubbering on a press conference.

Being complete and totally straightforward, the Bible refers to homosexual behaviors in several passages. The way they are worded in the KJV and NIV versions of the Bible, not one of those references are positive.

However, do not assume that everything can be taken at face value. In order to understand the intent of these passages, one must make fundamental decisions -- whether to:

• Accept the teachings of one's church or faith/familial belief structure.
• If you follow a conservative denomination's teaching then you will most likely be taught that homosexual behavior is chosen, changeable, abnormal, unnatural, and condemned by God. It is something that a person does. You will probably be taught that all six of the passages condemn all same-sex behaviors.
• If you follow a progressive faith group's teaching, you may well accept homosexuality as an alternative, normal, natural unchangeable sexual orientation for a minority of humans, which is accepted by God. It is something that a person is. You will probably be taught that the six passages condemn specific same-sex sexual acts that are unrelated to loving, committed same-sex relationships.
• Personally study passages from your favorite version of the Bible to reach your own conclusions. This is something that most people don’t do currently. And those that try and do may learn a few scriptures here and there, but unfortunately, this is filtered by the theological beliefs of the translators.
• Personally study the original Hebrew, Aramaic or Greek writings and attempt to understand precisely what the writers taught. This will not likely be the response that so many give in trying to understand the further intent and purpose for God’s word and the Bible, but when you DO study and really search out what scriptures mean, the rewards are amazing.
• Guard against “cherry picking” One of the saddest things I noticed in both seminary, bible school, church camp, and in life in general is the tendency that pastors and lay people have to cherry pick scriptures to meet a purpose. That’s not a difficult thing to do, and the temptation is great. But, prayerfully consider what I have suggested. Don’t cherry pick, read in context, understand the political and socio-economic conditions under which scriptures were both written and translated.  As the reader, you may want guard against ONLY studying certain verses. Please when you go back to verify my work, read the surrounding verses and/or chapters to put it into better context.

Conservative and Liberal Views… The standard disclaimer
I have listed above the scriptures used, and what the Bible actually states in its translation. Going forward I will do my best to present not only the actual scripture, but the original wording, the translations, and the context of the scripture. That is what I can do for this project. As the Reader, you can make up your own mind. I’ll probably use the standard KJV or NIV. My personal favorite is the Good News Translation. That’s what I use in my personal devotions. Anyway, I’ll attempt to give interpretations of key passages of the Bible from both a conservative (Fundamentalist and other Evangelical) and from a liberal position, as generally as possible:

• Conservative Christians generally want to believe and accept English translations of the Bible, such as the New International Version (NIV) and the King James Version (KJV) as authoritative. They usually accept the inerrancy of the Bible. They interpret passages literally, unless there is a good reason not to. They consider all Bible passages as instructive in today's society. When they see any same-sex activity condemned, they believe that this applies to all homosexual activities. All homosexual behavior is sinful, regardless of the nature of the relationship. Homosexuality is a chosen, unnatural, abnormal, changeable, and perverted lifestyle, which is hated by God.
• Liberal Christians are more apt to follow a wider variety of translations, and to be more concerned with instances of copying errors in the original Hebrew or Greek, of forgery, and of biases among the translators. Well, the nerdy ones like me. The general layperson in a church tries their best to consider some passages (e.g. those referring to slavery, burning some hookers alive, raping female prisoners of war, etc.) as not being valid today, as immoral, and against the will of God. They differentiate among various homosexual and heterosexual sex practices, treating some (rape, prostitution, temple sex rituals) as immoral and some (within committed relationships) as positive. Homosexual orientation and behavior is seen as a normal human sexual expression among a minority of adults. It is not changeable or chosen. Like all sexual behavior, it can be a sin if it is exploitive or manipulative or not carried out safely within a committed relationship.

That is my goal here - I want to supply information and ask you to prayerfully consider it, to truly study and read the scriptures knowing the intent and the context. We can all help to stop fighting over scripture and hurting one another. Those things are never pleasing to God.

Here are additional blogs in the series:
Part One - Why and Introduction
Part Two - Sodom and Gomorrah
Part Two - Levitical Law
Part Two - Romans Road To Salvation
Part Two - Oh, Paul... Nobody Likes Prison Rape
Part Two - Wrapping Up the "Big Six" Scriptures
Part Three - WWJD, Y'all? What Would Jesus Do?
Part Three - Better Run Tell Somebody!
Part Four - Same Sex Activity In The Bible
Part Five - Common Christian Beliefs
Part Five - One Anglican View Against Being Gay
Part Six - Examples of Gay Couples in The Bible
Part Six - David and Jonathan - A Love Story
Part Seven - Conclusions, Recaps, and References

Cheers,
#JustBeingMichael

Mother's Day: A True Story

-or-

Momma, I DO Try To Make You Proud

You cannot be a truly good Southern boy and not love your Momma and your Mamaw. That’s just fact. I hear so many people these days talk about their mothers in such negative terms. I think that’s just a crime – a TRAVESTY – if you will. Mommas may not always be the best people, but that’s because they are probably not Southern. I didn’t say all Mommas were perfect. But I implied that nearly all Southern-bred, born-and-raised Mommas are! (Because they just are…)

All of that leads me to the very interesting and intriguing task that I currently have at hand – I am sitting down and actually, on purpose, writing a sweet and true blog about my Momma. I didn’t want to at first, because she and I are SO much alike. It’s difficult to examine a thing and to want to describe it in both glory and gory detail – only to realize that you might as well be looking into a very, very magnified and high-definition mirror. So, I tend to focus on my Momma’s best qualities and her funny antics… because that’s what I like best about my own.

Truthfully, I almost made this blog more like an ode or a haiku-based thing. But, my Momma deserves a little more than that. Oh, my stories are just full of her mischief and her particular brand of homespun goodness. She’s a handful, and she’s sassy and spoiled. But she is one of the biggest parts of my heart and I love her. So, Momma, as MUCH as I rag on you, and tell ALL of our business, this one is just for you:

LaNita Sue was born and raised in Smith County, Mississippi. She was a princess. She was the incredibly gifted and talented first child AND grandchild of two sets of families. My grandfather was the eldest of his siblings, and the patriarch of our two families. And my grandmother was the eldest of her siblings, and the undisputed matriarch of her family. So, my Momma, was in fact born pretty much a princess. If hardworking, truck-driving, plantation-farmer’s daughters can be a princess. (They can. They most certainly can.) Yes, they had the big country house, and yes, my Papaw James was a man that could make some money and put food on the table and sable on his daughter’s back, but it was a simple life. Now, that’s not to say it wasn’t without its ups and downs, but it was a good life – a simple, southern, good life.

Trust me, as an heir to this family and one of the children of a child that had this kind of upbringing, that’s easier said than done to have a good, simple, southern life. We are all characters and we are all head strong, proud and independently CO-dependent on one another. But let’s face it, life can be more welcoming and certainly more genteel when your daddy has land and chunk of change; you have a sable; you are a talented debutante; and you sweep the categories in your high school’s “Most…” list every year. (That’s not an embellishment or an exaggeration.) I still, STILL, laugh and cherish my mother’s Senior High School Yearbook. She won every single thing. (Well, everything but friendliest.) And you have to understand, my mother is one those incredible people that can light up a room, just by being there. She is funny, she is personable, and she is exciting. But she is “unavailable”. My mother once explained to me that she was perfectly happy getting Miss Congeniality instead of Friendliest.

“Why wouldn’t you want that, too?” I asked, incredulous that her competitive nature had waned. I know that personally, my competitive nature in High School and College was spot on. I wanted to be in everything. I wanted to be INVOLVED in everything. And I was. If I wasn’t, I usually found out where, when, why, who, and how.

“Well, son, because with one, you just had to have manners and act like you were raised right”, she instructed. “You don’t have to actually care or listen to people drone on and on and on…”

That is the essence of it. That is almost the essence of her. And it was a lesson that stuck. You can give and give and give, but you have to save something for you. You have to take care of yourself and ensure that you save something to rejuvenate and regenerate with… so, that you can give more again later. (She also taught me this lesson spiritually later on in life when she and I would talk about singing, playing, and praying for people.) Still, I was floored. I know I’M competitive and I love recognition. But she won Miss BHS, Best Dressed, Most Popular, Most Talented, Most Congenial, She was Prom Queen, Homecoming Queen. I mean, the lady had a skill set that was IMPRESSIVE.

And to give credit where it truly belongs, my Mamaw Sue had a lot to do with that. My Grand Great Aunt Myrt (short for Myrtis) and my grandmother raised my mother. My grandmother was a go-getter for the 1940’s. She was not a stay-at-home wife and mother. She was an original Steel Magnolia. Faced with a husband in the war, and when he returned partially disabled. She hiked up her skirts and she found out exactly how to survive. She was a surgical nurse, she worked at a plant, and she helped on my grandfather’s farm. She was quite a woman. And she got her Aunt to move in and help with my mother, and eventually, my sister, and then, with me. She helped make my mother the debutante she became. I just wanted those women to get the props that they deserved for helping to not only create, but shape and celebrate the woman my mother would become. In hearing my Momma reminisce about those times, you can tell she was loved, and happy.

And later, as with all princesses, they get courted. They get suitors, and they get chased. My mother was no exception. She had her share of men that wanted to date her. And her parents were pretty careful about who they would let her date. However, Momma eventually found Daddy. She met, fell in love with, and married my natural father. Like any good woman, she knew her place and immediately set up a house and began having babies… I’m JUST kidding. I just wanted to make sure you, Reader, were awake and paying attention the words I actually put out. No, Momma was kind of progressive for a child of the 50’s/60’s. She totally started her own beauty salon business and was the bread winner. Now, my Dad was no slacker – there was a reason she was attracted to him. Dad’s family had some money, but nothing major, but his father owned his own mechanic business. My paternal grandmother was an impressively beautiful and exotic creature. She and I were not what I would consider “close”, but she was a woman to be reckoned with. Her style and lifestyle were legendary around the town they lived in, and my grandfather took care of her and kept her happy. My father, Dad had inherited his mother’s good looks, charm, and wit. Dad was definitely funny. He was quick witted, and he knew how to work and make a dollar. He has done everything from drive a truck to work in a plant, to start his own brokerage. The man has a mind on him. Or did, but that’s a different story and another tale.

So, much like Pac-Man, and Ms. Pac-Man, they meet, they fall in love…

…they produce amazing children. Now, I was not present for the birth of my older sister Dawne or any other siblings, really. I can only speculate and define what I know from MY childhood with my mother. I am my mother’s baby. THE baby. The BABY! And I love it. I love that for her, I am the one that broke the mold, that was the end all be all of what she thought she could create. And I have a feeling, I was not expected. J Not at accident, per se, just… a surprise. But, what a damn awesome surprise!  I know my other brothers, sisters, and steps, halfs, everyone really… they roll their eyes, they groan, but they know it: I am spoiled. And I was the baby child on one family, the ONLY boy on the other, and the BABY BOY on another. That kind of status brings POWER, heifers. Recognize. I. Love. Every. Minute. Of. It.

In conversations with my oldest sister Dawne, she and Momma were not very close when she was little. According to them both, at times there were just tons of conflict. I can’t imagine why!! Dawne was a very headstrong, independent, and opinionated child. I mean, seriously, two alpha females are never going to get along perfectly. It just doesn’t happen. Dawne and Momma have always been… complicated. However, now that we are all grown adults and people have children of their own; we all get along, and we all laugh about all of the struggle. But going through it always seems harder than the memory of the pain or the… conflict,.. or the appearance of things. I am very grateful and even somewhat relieved that they are so close now. Jealous? Eh, normally, I’d find a way to be the favorite, but Dawne does deserve some LaNita quality time. It can make you feel like you are the center of the universe when our Momma turns that smile on you and asks you questions about your life and is truly interested in you. It makes you feel safe, and happy, and warm. I’ve had that my entire life from her. Hell, I learned at her feet how to be just like her and how to make others feel that way. So, no… I’m not jealous that Dawne gets that now. I am thrilled.

All of that being said, and it being truly – just what it is – I had a very, very nearly ideallic childhood. Now, there are moments in my childhood that are hilarious. Moments that are embarrassing for my mother (the time I chose to use the bathroom in the parking lot at church during a softball game because “they wouldn’t take me to the bathroom”) Or times I think made me trust people less. (Like the time that both Momma and Daddy thought the other one had me and left me at church on the pew asleep). There are times that are sad. (when we lost Mamaw Claire (great grandmother) and when my father lost my Papaw Burl). When there were deaths, when there births, when there were just any happenings… Our Family always were there. We were there for literally everything. We were there for graduations, for hospitals, for parties. I can say I grew up RIGHT. My Momma took me everywhere with her. Not very many baby sitters, not very many times my parents went places that they couldn’t just throw me on a hip, and I went to.

Even as a small child, I can remember the bands and quartets my Momma played in. She could sing, she could play, she could talk. She was just very, very talented. I can remember the people coming to the house for dinner, drinks, and to sit around and sing and play. It was pretty amazing to sit at the feet of some pretty awesomely talented people. That was one of the first times I learned how to dance. People in the living room, playing music, and Momma had little boy me stand on her feet and sway. She told me that my Daddy didn’t have anything on my dancing. I remember that clearly. She had a way of making me feel like I was the only child. It was rare, because it’s hard to get her full attention, but when you do… everything else goes away for a while and you sit there and just want more of it.

This kind of life was the norm. It was beautiful. It was fun. At least for a while… Then they divorced. I didn’t understand the concept of divorce when I was little. I was precocious. I was smart. And I was kind of a smart ass, but I wasn’t very “deep” emotionally. I mainly focused on me. (Some might say that not very much has changed.) My father was, like I said, a beautiful and charming man, but he was also a whore. A man slut. He was just not great at being present for others. (I inherited that quality – I have to fight against it EVERY single day) and he was just not a great husband to her, or a father to me. He loved us. Yes, he did. He is a man of dreams and wants and he envisions (in conversations) of being a hands on great dad, but the reality is that he just isn’t. Unless you can benefit him. So, clearly, here… she showed that she was only human and could make mistakes. Don’t get me wrong, I am glad they met and had sex, and made me. But, my Lord and God, could two people have ever been more wrong for one another. They were both popular and beautiful. They were Mr. And Mrs. Everything. But they were both selfish and spoiled people that just didn’t need to be together, at least after years of my father and his shenanigans. I am so grateful that God saw fit to let them divorce when I was young and still allow my Momma to bloom and blossom and eventually follow her path to something that made her perfectly happy!

I have to be nekkid honest with you, Reader. Growing up, I can’t say that I ever had a great male role model, No great father figure. I was confused about my own father, because I didn’t have the emotional capacity to reconcile words and actions. It never dawned on me that people lied or that you couldn’t say what you meant. Guile and little white lies didn’t really exist for me until my parents’ divorce. I had always said exactly what I thought. I got my ass whipped quite a bit (for instance, when I interrupted church to let my mother know while she was on the piano that the bathroom was out of toilet paper, and I needed to be wiped before we could go on with service), but I was a mischievous and willful child. I never exactly “clicked” with my natural father because, he expected people to give him his way and be in awe (this, sadly, is not an exaggeration or embellishment. He would bark at people and Dawne and my younger half sisters just acted like that was the end of the world). I just never was. My sister WORSHIPPED him during childhood, and up to her teen years. Don’t get me wrong, I loved and still love my Daddy, but I just never saw the big deal with him after the divorce. It was the first time I can remember an adult lying to me to my face and expecting me to believe them just because I was little. I was eight years old and I cried because he really thought I was going to just buy into it. My first great heartbreak and my first taste of disappointment when adults don’t quite act like adults. And then I had a pretty shitty stepfather. I’ll tell that story one day. Momma and I have agreed I can tell it one day when we both reconcile all of our emotions about some of the things that happened. This is why I still don’t trust male authority figures to this day. Through no fault of her own, she gave me situations where I had to learn to be my own person (even more than I was). And to be honest, that has helped me so much more than she’ll ever know. I know that at times she felt badly that she and my Daddy didn’t work out. And she still feels guilty that she married a man no one in her family wanted her to marry, and then the situation turned so abusive and volatile. But trust me, I am fine. I am better than fine.

It was even BECAUSE of some of those situations and not IN SPITE of those situations that I learned just how to be me, do me, take care of me, and ensure that I never lose my voice or my place again. I won’t ever. It sucks for my partners or lovers, because I never back down and I never give in. Eh, who cares… compromise is overrated. Right?  Even though this topic may not be quite as funny, I’ll just say this for myself, and in praise of my Momma: I'm glad that she taught me not to hate men for what they weren't, but to love them for what they were - to just give it over to God in matters of family and heartache.

I guess you just have to give some credit where credit is due. I am always talking or writing about my Momma and my Mamaw, and I love them. But sometimes, it’s better to not be quite so flip and funny and to really tell it like it is:  I appreciate the southern gothic and crazy family I was born into. I can finally love and revel in their love in ways I didn’t always treasure the way I do now. Now, I can sit on a porch, drink some tea, and just “be” with family in a way, that my younger self could not. I had something in me that drove me to run, to always achieve, and to do even more. I give full credit for the person I became to LaNita Sue. She was Momma – a nurturer and the one that could make my tears stop. Or just be a soft shoulder when I needed it. She was Daddy – there were several years where she and I just had each other when everyone else was somewhere else and she had to be the one that helped me put on football pads and learn tennis. She was provider, consoler, parent, and friend. There were times in my life when she was (literally, and that wasn’t fun) my teacher, (not literally) my cheerleader, costume designer. There was just NOTHING she couldn’t or wouldn’t do or help me with.

She is talented. She is faithful. She is an example.

I'm so glad for a Momma that knew how to get up and do for herself when men or situations seemed to knock her down. I am so glad for a Momma that knew how to get back down on her knees and pray for the things that only God could give us. I'm so glad for a Momma that taught me to do my best, and hope for the rest. I'm so glad for a Momma that told me from a very young age that we could call out to a God that would listen when no one else would.

I know, I know, this blog is getting long and usually all of my material is so funny. And this had its funny moments. And its serious ones, and its sad ones… just like Momma! LaNita, I know you have a hundred things to do and probably will never read this blog, but if you do… Honey, I am SO PROUD to have come from you and to have ended up so SCARILY like you.

Happy Mother’s Day

Cheers,

JustBeingMichael

Easter Part Two: Flaming Fish Houses and Required Ministerial Obligations for Lottery Winnings

“That hussy is staring at me!” my sister Dawne seethed at me through clenched teeth and with eyes becoming increasingly hazy.

Um, okay, I thought to myself. At first, I was unaware of the quickly escalating situation. I merely knew that she was addressing this comment to me, and apparently the glances of the rest of the table turned toward me in wonder… Presumably wondering what the hell I proposed to do about it. Clarification: Not what I proposed to do about said hussy and her stares, but about my sister and her second outburst at dinner.

Allow me to back up and catch you, Gentle Reader, up on what had transpired to this point…

My sweet and endearing mother, LaNita had agreed to host all of the children and family for a multi-birthday + Easter celebration weekend at her home in rural, southern Mississippi. En route to Hattiesburg to pick my eldest sister, Dawne, up: I had already had multiple conversations regarding appropriate presents, the presentation of said presents, and exactly what the weekend of “spontaneous” fun would hold. Dawne and her son, MY amazing nephew, Devin, piled into Big Red so we could haul our asses to Sandy Hook, MS.

Armed with instructions from my mother, we make a pit stop to do a bit of light shopping* before we arrive at the Parsonage. [Note: Light shopping here is a misnomer. It wasn’t easy, lazy, or fun. It wasn’t light. Dawne was having back issues and wanted to be let out at the door. This is the only open place in a small town. Everyone was there. Also, it was a WalMart, which I am morally opposed to supporting, but am smart enough to know when I’ve been bested. Thirdly, as noted from the multiple calls from multiple family members, this pitstop and shop session was no longer optional, it was clearly mandatory.] So, I drop Dawne off at the door and drove off to the empty end of the parking lot. Now, I am a reasonably secure person, and I am tall and beefy – so people don’t generally intimidate me, but WHY would a car with Esse-scripted writing on the windows and a white thug, his skank, and their babies pull up RIGHT beside my truck and park? Dude, you have like, 8 spaces around here. Then (no lie) he gets out of the car, pulls his cargo shorts up, buttons them and off the family traipses into Wal-Mart. Now, it is truly none of my business if a man wants to drive his family around in a Rice Rocket with his pants down. But this entire non-exchange from myself to them gave me many questions – what were they doing? Was he getting road head from the skank while toddlers were in the car? Was he just hot-natured and needed to cool off? Why in the world would he do that? I don’t ride in my underwear (when I wear underwear) with other passengers. That’d just be weird. This whole thing was perplexing me and giving me pause. Then I thought to myself, “I’d never see this kind of shit at Target.”

As I thought about this, and sauntered lightly towards the door, my nephew was waiting for me, and Dawne had procured her hov-a-round. I walked briskly past and loudly stated, “Excuse me, ma’am” and promptly stomped off to the housewares department. The extremely well-stocked housewares department. I was more than a bit impressed for a Wal-Mart in BFE, MS to be stocked so well for kitchens and the like. Then I remembered that I was in BFE, MS where kitchens and the joys it brings are to be celebrated as only the truly Southern know how. I perused the aisles of pots and pans, of utensils for every imaginable purpose in a kitchen. I found silicone heat resistant spatulas. I found cupcake tins, mini cupcake tins. And I found micro bite sized cupcake tins. I found bundt pans of all shapes and patterns to produce impressive desserts for when it would be the user’s week to assist with “Dinner On The Ground”. They were all impressive. Well, except there was a shocking lack of cast iron available, but this is fucking Wal-Mart, not Le Creuset. We live as best we can…

Having fondled and imagined myself using almost every piece in lots of scenarios (one of which involves me cooking with Meryl Streep as Julie Child – don’t ask) I finally found the Coffee Pots. And now that I had EXACTLY what the Rolands needed in their coffee pot, I began narrowing down the choices. Let’s just heave the small carraffed coffee makers off of the shelves. Nope, not you. You don’t have a timer to make the coffee for waking up. Not you, either. You don’t have an independent water supply filter. Oh, you have all three, but not a mesh coffee filter that’s green and reusable. Aha. Found it. Into my buggy it goes. I go back to daydreaming about Meryl/Julia and wondering what I might cook for this weekend when my phone vibrates in my front jeans pocket. I giggle because it’s dangerously close to being erotic.

It’s just Dawne, “Where are you?”

“I am at the house/coffee pot section. I am done when you are. But I need a gift bag or something. I’ll meet you at the cards and bags.”

“Okay…” and I hear the whir of the electric scooter taking flight.

[Note: I do not make fun of my sister for using a hovaround. In a small town. At the Wal-Mart. I make fun of her because she uses it as a weapon and to run people over. I should have known this from Christmas. I should have known this from years of assessing her personality and psychological skills. But she is very, very crafty in molding others to her will and causing you to temporarily forget any past injustices.]

I heave my buggy back into one of the crowded main arteries of traffic flow and deftly merge into the Wal-Mart patrons. I am a bad driver and I am horrible at things like “rubbernecking”. I am reading the unfamiliar aisle signs and trying to find D & D.

Success!!

Well, nearly success. I am ready to get to the aisle and I can literally see the items I need, plus I see the back wheels of a hovaround. Dawne is near and I want to hurry up. Why is no one moving? They see that I need to get by and get to the aisle. One lady glances over, mistakenly does not acknowledge me, and then continues to browse while not giving right of way. Lady, you just fucked up. I push my buggy into this older lady to get her to move. She glares at me and I (with some bravado and without any remorse) curl the right side of my own lip up into a snarl.

“Pardon.” I stalk past. She doesn’t move her buggy. So I stop my buggy, and physically push hers to the side so I can continue. I’ll eat her for breakfast. Fucking sow. Oh, and Happy Easter, you hateful, country bitch!

Undeterred by this small fray, I bravely carry onto the gift/card aisle and meet Dawne. After 0.2 blistering seconds of contemplation, I have a beautiful gift bag, and tissue paper thrown into the buggy and have loudly and deftly announced:

“I’m ready to go.”

“Me too, I’m almost done.” Dawne chimes.

Hmm. What the hell does almost mean? It's time to get up out of this Wal-Mart. What would people at Rainbow think? What would my friends say? Okay, let me rephrase this,

“I’m ready to go. Now.”

And then, my gaydar-spidey sense begins tingling. Something fun and fabulous is near… I reach out into the unknown with my subconscious – spinning glitter, hope, and rainbows into a web…. AHA! Located in the card section, close by, but hidden behind ugly and non-matching envelopes was “Pocket Unicorn”!!! I became immediately enamored of this small, wonderful device. “Come Prance With Me!” “Unicorn Loooooovees you! Do you love Unicorn?” I almost clapped with delight, right there in a country ass Wal-Mart. How did God know I’d need a quick pick me up after a long, delayed work week, and an eventful and tedious ride? I am reminded of the old song, “Jesus Loves Me, This I Know”. Well, I knew it because he gave me a gay ass Pocket Unicorn Card of Awesome. Happy Resurrection, Jesus! Eventually, everyone is ready to pack up, pay, and get back on the road. Oh, and I turned that Unicorn Card into several notificaton and ringtones on my phone. Oh, Unicorn…

Now, if you have never been “received” or if you have never been in a big ole Southern family, you don’t understand how we all greet one another. It’s an art. It’s a balancing act. It’s delicate. Hug too little or in an incorrect order, and you can go HORRIBLY awry. Hug too much, and in an incorrect order, and you can be accused of hiding something.

Typically, hugs and obeisance should go in this order:

• Oldest Matriarch
• Her peer siblings and peerage equals (same level on the other side of the family)
• Next generation, (generally the daughter of the Oldest Matriarch or the next oldest in line)
• Mother
• Female Siblings
• Oldest Patriarch
• His peer siblings and peerage equals (same level on the other side of the family)
• Father
• Male siblings
• Anyone younger than you or the equivalent of NEXT generations (your siblings offspring, their offspring, and so on)

That seems like a lot. But it’s a time honored ritual and it’s practiced without hesitation and without discussion. The only time it’s ever really mentioned is when you DON’T do it correctly. Usually a well meaning Great Aunt or Uncle will visegrip your upper arm as you are pulled aside and reminded to immediately go speak to “Aunt So and So” since she’s waiting for you. Small children are generally excused of this behavior until they are of an age to drink coffee or when they are too old for the children’s table and begin learning the family trees. I’ll conclude your mini lesson on etiquette and true southern manners now.

Back to the riveting story: We arrived and the elaborate dance of getting out of the car first. Going to the door, going inside and making the proper and appropriate greetings. ONLY then returning to your vehicle to unload your luggage acceptable. Plus, at that point, you have family to help carry things. If you are like me and many other southern belles, we don’t pack light or travel easy. We pack for every conceivable occasion and travel like we are in first class on a Cruise Liner. And we expect to be offered refreshments upon arrival. It’s not only practical to those that have traveled and fought their way to your home, it’s customary and polite to make sure that you present your guests with a buffet of choices.

“Son, do you want something to drink?”

“No ma’am. I need to get my thangs out of the truck.”

“Are you sure? We have coke, diet coke, sprite, apple juice, some fresh orange juice, water, and sweet tea.”

“Mama, I need wine after the drive and Wal-Mart.”

“We have white, red, and that awfully nice box of zinfandel I like.”

“Maybe just a touch of sweet tea”

This conversation is then rendered completely pointless when a BubbaKeg of ice and sweet tea is presented to the new arrival. This is also why I love being born, raised, and PROUDLY a true genteel Southerner. You can’t learn, practice or fake this. It’s bred generation after generation on gentility and quiet, unwavering, hard as nails, Southern etiquette and manners.

Mamaw Sue was there. She was stunning in her own electric mobility chair. She had cut her hair shorter than normal. Normally, when you have beautiful white hair, I enjoy a bit of length and “fluff” to it. But she had cut it very short, and permed it. It was cute, but it was only “Little Old Lady” cute. It wasn’t may favorite. Loved her little outfit that I am sure Mother bought for her and she waved at me and motioned for me to come and hug her neck.

Annie Doris was there (this would be considered almost a peerage equal, and crosses over to next generation) Annie D was on the other side of the family, but she is also not as old and is the sister of my mother’s husband. Old than them, younger than Mamaw. And she is a total hoot. She’s not quite there for the Little Old Lady status, but she isn’t in the Momma/Daddy stage.

Of course my Uncle Larry was there. Physically. He’s already clocked out a bit, mentally. He means well, and he will pipe up and join random lines of conversation here and there. I don’t say that to be unkind or make fun, but he is HORRIBLY Epileptic and cannot help but stop in mid-sentence and stare off into nothing for tens of minutes and then finish his sentence like nothing had ever happened.

LaNita (my famous mother) looked FABULOUS. Well, to me she looked a little thin, but not so much that I was worried. But her style is amazing. She never let’s me down.

Curtis, the preacher, my stepfather, was in a white tee and shorts. Classy. HAHAHA. It was casual and we were all ready to lounge around.

Well, everyone else was ready to lounge. I was ready to eat lunch (in the South, lunch is called dinner, and dinner is called supper.) There was a hashbrown casserole that would make a Pentecostal woman wear lipstick! My word, it was FINE! Annie Doris had fried up a couple of chickens and Momma had made a broccoli/vegetable salad that I could have eaten thirds of! Not to mention that Annie Doris had baked up her FAMOUS pecan pie. Pie so good, it was worth fighting my sister Melanie for. Pie so good we hid one of the extras so that people would be forced to only enjoy the one pie, and then eat other means of dessert. Mel and I were no fools about pie. I sat there and ate two entire plates of food. Even my fat was disappointed in me. Maybe you didn’t catch that the first time you read it. Even. My. Fat. Was. Disappointed. In. Me. That’s a terrible feeling to know that your own body is angry at your choices in diet (and sometimes life, but that’s another story…) Melanie, Dawne, and I sat on the back porch at the “kids” table and caught up. Fun.

After the food was completely consumed, dishes were washed and the appropriate amount of appreciation was shown to the cooks – we got to some important topics as the children. What were we doing next and to survive?? Clearly our next stop was Angie, Louisiana – BUT, how? How were we to pile into a vehicle all together and without much notice? How would we explain where we were going and what we were doing?

Oh, you as the reader don’t know either – Angie has Lotto tickets. It has Powerball. It has MegaMillions. It has the little individual tickets that are the “scratch off” kind. It has so, so many different kinds of tickets. And, as such, we want to go and give them money in the hopes of winning more money back from them. It’s called gambling. The Bible called it “casting lots”. I call it foolishness. It’s silly really, and no one I have evern known in my life has won. Except for everyone in my family EXCEPT me. Melanie wins regularly like 5-20 dollars. Dawne wins. Others win. I never win. Never. An interesting point in this story is that while this little rinky-dink store in a “one STOP sign” town is that they have at least thirty kinds of lotteries to play, and will not take a debit card. Just an observation. So, what did we do? Well, we DIDN’T tell Mamaw, we mentioned it to Curtis, who politely ignored his heathen children, and told Momma that we just simply HAD to go out for a bit: As with any trip in our ministry-oriented family, the children all piled up together to go get lottery tickets. Hurrah!

Scratched out, we naturally ended up around a piano and practiced for our songs at Church. But that’s boring. I mean, we had fun. We all teased and sang, and we laughed and did good. We usually do. But so many things happened this weekend. So, so many. So, rather than bore you with minutia... Let me just get to one of my personal favorite highlights of this weekend: Mamaw ran over Dawne with the hovaround. I can’t even sit here and type it nearly a month later without laughing out loud. Apparently, Mamaw needed to use the restroom. She's old and she needs assistance walking, sitting, etc. And the old thang just up and decided to wheel herself to it. That's her first mistake and caused quite a ruccus about us putting her in a home. Now... unbeknownst to poor old Dawne, and also, at some point, Mamaw had taken her shoes off and was in slippery stocking feet. (That’s important. ;)) So, Dawne offers to help her and take her to the bathroom while we were all fooling around during music practice. Well, Dawne is a strong woman, but she’s had two hips replaced and a bad back due to necrosis of her bones. So, when sweet Mamaw’s feet the floor, she began to slip and hit the button on the hovaround.

Picture this: Dawne, behind the chair, helping Mamaw from behind sit up and then stand up. Mamaw's feet, starting to skid... Then. Mamaw hits the button on the arm of her hovaround. The hovaround begins backing into Dawne and knocking her into and down the wall of the restroom.

This would be funny enough. But there's more: Dawne, having been thrown to the ground, is no longer holding on to Mamaw, who is now clutching the hovaround even tighter and has thrown it into a higher gear, further running over Dawne and pinning her against the wall. Dawne later told me that "from what she could see in her vantage point" that Mamaw was trying to help and “her little feet were just a-kicking". I had to leave the room, I laughed so hard.

Oh, and where was my mother during this? Laughing. I am truly that woman’s son.

We get home and get ready for dinner out. This is going to be fun, and also, Gentle Reader, where YOU came into this story. There are about 15 of us sitting around a large, long picnic style table and eating some DELICIOUS fried catfish, hush puppies, and tater logs. I know this isn’t the healthiest food, but my GOD, it was truly unreal. Momma sat in the middle, Curtis, and then myself. Then down was Devin, Melanie, and Annie Doris. Across from me was my hilarious sister, Dawne, then some church people, then Larry (an uncle) and down from Momma was Mamaw. Now, I didn’t realize certain things had transpired at home AFTER Mamaw viciously ran Dawne down in her mobility enhancer also commonly called a hovaround. So, when things started going down, I was shocked. Well, more accurately, I was slightly dismayed at first, but shocked mostly. Then it started slowly clearing up as the fog lifted. Momma had given Dawne some old pain meds from a surgery for her back since Mamaw had run her over. Dawne decided that one wouldn't do, and after finishing off several pills and a glass of wine, those meds had decided to kick in during dinner.

I had already had a glass of sweet tea and a refill, and had received my all you can eat platter of fried catfish goodness, when… I notice Dawne is not moving, holding a piece of fish in midair near her face, and GLARING off at another table.

“That hussy is staring at me!” my sister Dawne seethed at me through clenched teeth and with eyes becoming increasingly hazy.

Um, okay, I thought to myself. At first, I was unaware of the quickly escalating situation. I merely knew that she was addressing this comment to me, and apparently the glances of the rest of the table turned toward me in wonder… Presumably wondering what the hell I proposed to do about it. Clarification: Not what I proposed to do about said hussy and her stares, but about my sister and her second outburst at dinner. So, I looked at Dawne’s glassy, large-pupiled eyes and said, “Have some frieds, love. The starchy goodness will help your mood.”

“Michael, she IS SO looking.”

“No one is looking. Except me. And everyone at this table. And the two people behind you that clearly heard you.”

“No, that bitc…”

“DAWNE!”

“…uh, lady… is staring holes through me. What is her problem? What is YOUR problem?” Oh, lord. When a country girl feels insulted and quits talking about you and begins talking TO you. Things have deteriorated in your situation. She has started saying it over Momma and Mamaw to the lady she swears is looking at her in a non-flattering manner. What do I do with this? Now, I had gotten her to quiet down a small, teeny, tiny bit. And then Annie Doris chimed in and said, “Well, it does LOOK like she’s staring over here.” Thanks, Annie D...

Hmm, Dear Readers... what would YOU have done? Would you have looked? Well, let’s see, the only pastor in town at a table with his hot wife, her trail-riding-grandaughter-mowing-hovaround mother, her weird and mildly mentally retarded brother, several loud church members, a high-as-shit daughter waving fish around, sweet old Annie Doris, gorgeous Melanie, Devin, and a tattooed gay son all at one table talking VERY loudly and looking around. Who the hell WOULDN’T look around. I say no one. Because I know I SURE would have looked, and maybe even commented to my own dinner companions.

Hindsight being 20/20 for my sister, that, of course, is the kind of logic that will escape you when you do your Momma’s old surgery drugs. Don’t do drugs!

The rest of the weekend is pretty normal and kind of a blur. It was SO good to see family, friends, church family, and to be in service with my Momma and Mamaw. It’s rare that I get to go to church and cry, pray, and sing with my family and those times are some of the best and most precious times to me. Truly. I am loud and vulgar and don’t always make the best choices, but my word… my lord and God, I love hanging out with them and just going to church. Now I will say this one thing, Curtis Roland preached his guts out that Sunday. We all sang our hearts out and then he left every gut he had on the floor of that pulpit. Much respect for a great sermon. (I doubt he reads my blog, BUT if he does, then I hope he knows I am TOTALLY stealing a sermon for a book idea I have. Deal with it, Pops…)

I can’t wait to see them all again, soon. Oh, and PS – I didn’t win a damn dollar in that lottery! I guess no tithe is necessary!

Cheers,

JustBeingMichael