DADT: Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Putting together an article on Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell…

What do you know about it (without using GoogleJ)?

I am trying to determine how much or how little you understand. 

Gay or straight, please take a moment to share your thoughts…. Leave a comment via Facebook or on blogspot.

Thanks so much,

Izzy

One is the Loneliest Number

It is Saturday night.  I am alone....again.

It's odd.  Monday through Friday, 5AM- 6PM (ish), the lonely bug never bites.  But when Jo works weekends, I can't seem to wear enough bug spray to keep it away. Once the lonely bug bites, it is comparable to a mosquito bite.  It itches and itches and inches until you are finally able to forget about it.  Unfortunately, by that time, the bite is swollen and red.

My metaphor is becoming a tangent.  You get it. I am lonely.  

In an effort to concentrate on my writing, I have not been my typically extroverted self in my new home.  Crazy, right?  No new friends to call for drinks while Jo is working.  Thought process?  My book will never get written at the local pub (which is my weakness and previous deterrent.) Therefore, it is Saturday night, I have writer's block, and even everyone on Facebook seems to be out and about having a lovely fall evening.

This is silly, I tell myself.  I am completely capable of being alone.  I do it at least once a weeknight and each weekday.  Today is an exception, not the rule.  I must distract myself.

I'll read...

I'm researching potential publications for article submissions.  Everything I've read suggests you research  at least three back issues of any publication you send your work to.  You must have a clear understanding of the magazine, the section where your piece will appear and the tonality of other writers currently showcased.

My dream is to one day be a novelist in Oprah's book club.  I will know I have reached the masses when I hear her say in her bellowing voice, "Isabellllllllllllll Jammmmmmmmmmes."

Hence, you can imagine why O magazine is on the top of my list (which also includes Curve and Advocate.)  In an effort to squelch my lonely state, I pick up the September issue of O.  The 'Connections' section is the most suitable for my genre of writing.  Although the entire magazine teaches us to "Live Our Best Life," this particular section embodies human relationships. 

As you can imagine, I almost skip the second Connection article entitled "Cups of Men." 
However, one of those large, bold quotes grab my attention.  Author, Heather Sellers, tells us, "Looking for love isn't a tragedy or a defect.  It's a situation."  I read on...

The three page piece depicts Heather's journey to meet various men from Match.com in an effort to censor her loneliness.  At one point she writes, "The planet, which is so large and lonely and blue, and also hurtling through dark empty space.  All of which you can feel when you are alone."  At once, I pity this woman but know that she captures what so many of us feel.  Whether you are single and lonely, married and lonely, or dating a doctor and lonely- we are all just seeking human connection.  I blame Adam and Eve.  Even the Creator suggests that we can't make it in this "dark empty space" alone.

So much for reading to kill the loneliness.  

I'll watch an old movie, instead...

Some of you will say I set myself up with this next one.  But honestly, I thought a classic starring a classic actor would cheer me up.  I find Lifetime, and Ghost is on.  

I'm completely shaken by Patrick Swayze's death, particularly because the bond between him and his real life wife seems so real, so strong.  The pair remind me of my grandparents.  I watch Ghost knowing I will cry; but think it will be cathartic.  Instead of a good healthy cry, I'm surrounded by tissues hoping the neighbors can't hear my sobs.  A great love story is apparently NOT something I need on this lonely night.

Still trying to cheer up...really, why don't I just go to bed?

I call my family... Another botched plan.

As I've mentioned in past blogs, my grandparents were married 56 years and my grandmother passed away a month ago.  

I call my grandfather for our nightly check-in and heard him sobbing on the other end.  I know he does this regularly; it does not make it any easier to hear.  The words of comfort that I can normally muster do not even choke out.  I quietly cry with him until we both decide to return to our lonely evenings.

You would think by now, I will just put myself to bed.  Nope, that would be too easy.

I brush up on my art history...

Ok, really, I'm watching another movie on Lifetime but it is the story of Georgia O’Keefe.  I love her work and assume her life story will be beautiful.  Instead, the movie depicts a tragic love story between O’Keefe and her cheating husband.

My lonely evening has officially turned into an analysis of our need for human connection.  Our search for our other half.  The entire process is heartbreaking, isn't it?  You might be a single girl searching online for love, feeling more desperate by the day; a young widow angry that your lover was taken too soon; or maybe you are lonely and heartbroken but your lover is still out there with someone else.  

And then I think about the most difficult kind of love.  The kind that is near perfect, lasting almost forever.  But when death does do you part- what next?  Would Grandpa take it all back to take away the pain he now must endure?

I'm going to be bed, but Grandpa calls.  He sounds much better while he watches the Yankee game on the other end of the line.  He says goodnight and reminds me to say my "Hail Mary’s" for my Grandma.  I promise I will.  No matter where she is, this man's heart will always belong to her. Who am I kidding?  He wouldn't take anything back; I think he just wishes he could hurry up this living process to lie beside her.  Isn't that what we are all looking for? Someone to love, honor and obey even after death parts us.

As I lay in bed, finally feeling a little better, my phone buzzes with a text message.  My dear old friend, Mary, has just gotten engaged.  My heart skips and for the first time all night, I smile.  Mar has a mammoth sized heart and enough love to share with a village.  I am elated that she is about to take the plunge into wedded bliss with a man who appreciates just how wonderful she is.  

My loneliness is officially gone. Instead of going to bed with that itchy bug bite, I am infected with a different kind of insect.  The love bug.  As they say, " 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

After all, I haven't lost!  I'm just living the life of a Navy wife.

Shopping on Base….for a husband?!?

Jo had some extra time for lunch; she had enough time to meet me at the gate, sign me in, and escort me back to the gate after lunch.  Prior to our meal at the foodcourt, we shopped around the NEX (Navy Exchange=everything is discounted and tax-free. )  I suppose some of you would call me a ‘lipstick lesbian.’  I hate the cliché term, but love my makeup, dresses and handbags, so you certainly aren’t wrong.  The NEX is truly one of my most favorite parts of being an illegitimate Navy 'wife.'  Jo must accompany me in and out of the store as I am not able to carry a military id; however, it is Heaven all the same.  Where else, for a discounted rate, can you pick up a new computer, flat screen TV, and bohemian style purse?  No matter how many times I go, the experience is blissful.

Post power shopping, our appetites called and to the food court we went.  We bumped into a couple of Jo’s co-workers and they were amped to have lunch with her and her very girly “roommate.”  Small, petite and not so Navy-like, Kiki might be the most upbeat person I have ever met.  Her boyfriend, Luke, thinks he is an all-American dream.  They are the kind of military couple you could picture sitting on the back of a red pick-up with seven brats dressed up in red, white and blue.  But Kiki means well; I think.

I used to get nervous around men and women in uniform; however, the fascination and intimidation is slowly wearing off.  Despite our new lunch companions, my bliss from the NEX was still radiating.   For better or worse, I was more myself at lunch than I have ever been with Navy personnel.  I talked endlessly about my love of the exchange.

Jokingly, I told Kiki, “Oh my God, I’m joining the Navy, just for the discounts!”

Kiki responded, “No way!  We just need to find you a hot Navy man.”

BLOW. To the Gut.

In essence, mission accomplished.  I’m the cute, quirky, “single and straight” roommate of their favorite classmate.  Unfortunately, even if we did achieve at fooling everyone at lunch, it was a blow to my wifely ego.   How many more times in my life will I need to pretend I’m looking for a good man?

KIKI, if you are listening, thanks for the offer but I must pass, I have a great (hot) WOman.

Broccoli Cheese Soup with a Side of Heartache

For the most part, our life here feels pretty ordinary.  Jo and I eat a home-cooked meal each night as we review the events of our day. We have recently started working out together in the evenings.  Have I ever mentioned we have two pups?  We have two adorable little fluff balls that we will call our babies- at least until the real thing happens (ahem, another reason DADT needs to end ASAP…the clock is ticking.)

Then there are those days, the kind of day when you realize that you aren’t ‘ordinary.’  Those moments hit you in the stomach like bad sushi.  In an earlier blog this summer, I described a sad little lunchtime moment I was having.   Ironically, earlier this week, Jo experienced a similar gut punch, also during lunchtime.

I believe she wears a protective cloak against the bigotry of the military.  While I have an entire blog, novel, and screenplay worked out in my head in response to the injustice, my sweetheart is just happy serving her country the same way her family has done.  She wakes up each day, takes off the clada ring she wears on her ring finger, and checks all details regarding her intimate evening with her lover as she shows her military id at the gate.  She does not let them bring her down.  Instead, she is gratuitous that they have afforded her the opportunity to achieve her life’s dream.

You can imagine my disbelief, when Jo called earlier this week with a tone of unmistakable sadness in her voice.  She was at work for what would be another long day.  Although they were not allowed to leave base, her co-worker was sitting there enjoying take-out.  Looking past broccoli cheese soup, Jo panned right to find his wife enjoying a quiet moment with him during a hectic day.

I’ve said it before, but I will say it again.  It is the simple things that make you feel the worst, the most discriminated against.  I know we cannot marry.  I know I cannot receive the federal same-sex domestic partner benefits.  I know that I must remain under the radar and a 'roommate' even though I love this woman with all of my heart.  The stuff that really gets me- and apparently Jo too, sometimes- are all of the little things, like lunch.

But be careful what you wish for; wait until you hear what happened when I actually did make it on base for a mid-day meal.

Two Lesbians and a Funeral

As I work on my first novel, you will learn more about my lesbian-or not so lesbian-past. For the purpose of today, you should know that I have not always been OUT in my family. Sure, my mom questioned why my "best friend" at 18 was the only girl who ever slept in my twin bed. My younger sisters, Dar and Charlotte, quietly speculated about my sexuality in their bunk-beds. But no one was certain what my future love life would look like.

Enter Jo. Within months of our first date, I came out-loud and proud-to my immediate family. Beyond my closest relatives, I didn't feel I needed to actually come out to my extended family (second cousins, great-aunts, ect). Up until now, Jo assumed we had a rather small family. Holidays typically involved my parents, sisters, grandparents, and usually an aunt or uncle. That's it. In actuality my grandmother was one of four and grandfather the youngest of thirteen. There are countless cousins and the cousins are having baby cousins. Unfortunately, we only get together for weddings and funerals. Sad, but true.

With this knowledge in mind, preparing for my grandmother's funeral, in an odd way, felt like we were gearing up for a family reunion. Great-aunts and distant cousins were flying in. My favorite Cape Cod Cousin would be making the long, arduous drive. The anticipation of seeing my family kept me going. Although the week of Gram's funeral was the hardest of my life, I felt blessed. Jo was granted leave. We weren't sure they would let her come, but at the last minute, my Gram must have worked her magic in Heaven. The time had come: Jo would meet the family.

At a traditional wake, the immediate family typically stays up front to greet individuals as they come to pay their last respects. Similarly, in church during the funeral mass, you walk up the aisle like a bridesmaid would. It was all so odd to me. During this personal, agonizing time, I needed to smile, say hello, and let everyone know what I've been doing for a decade (the last cousin was married in 2000 so it’s been awhile since we’ve all gotten together.)

And there was Jo; the forth, tallest daughter at the end of the receiving line. I'd been prepping her all day. Aunt V is married to Gram's brother, Dick. Betts was Gram's sister flying in with her daughter. After two years, many family members had heard something about Jo or at least the fact that I had moved far away for an un-disclosed reason. My cousin from the Cape actually bee-lined towards the casket in order to finally meet the girl who stole my heart.

It couldn’t have gone better. Jo already fit so naturally with my parents and sisters, it almost feels as though she's been with us forever. Aunt V commented that her and I were so at ease with each other. (well, duh?) I had no idea we were being so 'out' but I suppose that's what happens when you are distracted by something much more important.

Jo provided her support, both emotionally and physically during those difficult days. For some, I’m sure that type of outward same-sex affection was completely new. But everyone, from nine to ninety, embraced us, wanted to meet her, and wish us well. I know I am lucky; not all families are so supportive.

For those of you that cannot be yourself 100% of the time, persevere. It won't always be this hard. My family reunion 'coming out' day was eight years in the making. I'm officially ready to do it again under happier circumstances. Maybe next time at a big gay wedding?

Great Love

I have just returned home after 16 days at my grandparents. I spent the first week saying farewell to an amazing woman, making her comfortable in her final days. The second, more intense week, involved the planning of a two-day farewell (funeral) for our family and friends. So much has happened in the past two weeks that I think the next several blogs will be devoted to specific events.

In the meantime, I would like to share my final Eulogy to my grandmother. I wrestled with posting this, fearing it may be deemed morbid. Luckily, the subject matter seemed very fitting for a blog about following one's love.


***


There are not many individuals who can actually walk 'through the woods" to their grandmother's house. Darnel*, Shelly, Nina and I were very lucky to have her so close by. Grandma always had our favorite snacks ready and lots of questions about our day. I thought a lot about which memories I would share today. Although I want to be selfish and tell you about the best grandmother on earth, I need to tell you a love story.

It was August 1950, 59 years ago. Donata* and her friend Helen were on vacation at Echo Lake Farms. Jim "Red" O'Brien was also there with Sal Fatone. Despite Italian heritage and her hesitation about red hair, Donata was taken with the young Irish man.

As Grandpa would say, "she gave me class" and in return, he gave her his heart. I learned everything I need to know about love from my grandparents. During slumber parties, before humming us to sleep, Gram shared her life's advice.

"Izzy," she would say, "Make sure you find someone that takes care of you the way that Grandpa takes care of me."

She said this years go. Little did she know, he would become her nurse in the final months. And his name would be the final word she would say. Until her last days, if you asked Grandma what she was thinking about, she would say, "walking." She longed for one more afternoon with her love by the inlet. In spite of her worsening condition, she always tried to have her meals with Grandpa at the kitchen table. If he left her side for too long, she called out, "Jimmy!" And gripped his hand upon his return.

In February the prognosis was not good. It was unlikely that Grandma would reach her 80th birthday, but she always did love surprising us. Here we are seven months later with even more memories to cherish.

In Shelly's reaching from the New Testament she stated, "Hope does not disappoint." I truly believe it was my grandfather's hope, love and devotion that kept her going these last few months.

Our entire family is lucky to have witnessed this Great Love.

In Donata's honor, I hope we all remember to dress as fashionably, accessories in tact; keep our homes as impeccable; care as deeply as she did for others; and love as passionately.

I love you, Grandma.




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*a reminder that all names on NAVY WIFE have been changed.