July Column

Father’s Day

I know that Father’s Day has come and gone. It’s July already. But recent events have led me to think about my relationship with my father. I’ve always been close with him. I’m his only daughter, so naturally we have a bond. He was the one I would go to for advice. He was the one who always knew the right things to say and when to say them. He was the one I looked up to, revered and wholeheartedly loved. I’m not taking anything away from my relationship with my mother. It was not better or worse, just different.

My father has always loved me unconditionally, and I think that when I came out to him it tested everything inside of him. He had visions, I’m sure, of walking me down the isle and handing me off to some handsome fellow waiting breathlessly at the other end. When I told him, it must have knocked the wind right from his gut. Yet, he stared at me soberly and even smiled, said that he didn’t care and that it was no big deal. I believed him.

It turned out that, even though he tried as hard as he could to hide it, my being gay was something he’d have to work through and adjust to. Arguments ensued and worldviews collided. One night I asked him what he would think if I had a commitment ceremony with another woman? Would he come? He refused and said that he couldn’t support it. I swallowed that as best as I could and through it all I remained respectful of him and his opinions. And he, in turn, respected mine. After some time, it became a backdrop to our lives. Things came up of course, mostly politically, that we discussed at length in an intelligent manner, always being respectful of one another. Other things, regarding my personal life, he seemed to accept in stride. And when I began dating, I think it made it real for him.

For a long time, my father viewed my “relationships” as “friendships.” I think because it made it easier for him. I had no problem with that at all, though sometimes I longed for him to recognize that my feelings for my girlfriend were no different than my brother’s feelings for his girlfriend, and that they mattered just the same. I have to admit that I once thought he never would be able to see things that way. I was wrong.

Recently, I’ve had to deal with some problems in my current relationship. When I told my father what was going on, when I melted in his arms and cried hard on his shoulder, he could see. He could see the hurt and the sadness that I felt. He could see that my feelings were real. He could see that love and pain could exist between two women. I knew he could see it because he told me that parents often want to fix everything for thier children, but when it comes to a broken heart they feel helpless. He compared my situation to my older brother’s and I knew. I knew that someday, when I decide to make a commitment to another woman and have a ceremony of some sort, he’d be there. No questions asked.

I think that my father and I have evolved since I first came out. Time has a way of putting things into perspective. For Father’s Day, I gave my father a framed pictured of us at football game last November when the Buffalo Bills played the Kansas City Chiefs. I love the Chiefs. My father loves the Bills. I was wearing my Chiefs hat. He was wearing his Bills hat. Plastered on our faces were two of the biggest smiles you’d ever see. The vibrant green field behind us painted the background.
It was a picture of him and I, a father and daughter with a common bond, in a crowd.

Poem

Let’s not beat around the bush, so to speak.
I’m weak.
Heart open, mind bleak.
Thoughts reel. So real.
It’s impossible to hide how I feel.
I wear my heart on my sleeve
On my face.
I’ve never tried to deceive
Or pull an about face.
Don’t think I ever could
Ever would.
Want to?
Sometimes I do.
Sometimes it helps, to relieve in itself
The pain.
When I see the sun
I hope for rain.
Then maybe I could feel clean again.
Then maybe I could breathe again.
Then maybe I could eat again.
I may be stuck at the moment …
But it’s just a moment.
A week from now I’ll laugh
At my dramatic, erratic, static feelings.
And I’ll think why?
Why all the tears, fears and misconceptions?
I guess that happens when I lose direction
Or fall off my path.
Somewhere, deep inside my hollow stomach
I know I’ll find
Courage, strength, and peace of mind
And put my faith
In time.
Time heals everything … at least that’s what they tell me.

Music is Art

The Music is Art Festival was on Saturday. My uncle was asked to paint a mural in a period of three hours during the festival. The mural is to be auctioned off at Rockin' at the Knox later this year. I went down to the festival to watch him work. It was a beautiful day. My father bought a birdfeeder that he is very proud of. The front of it is the face of a man picking his nose, and the bird hole is his nostril. I wish I had taken a picture of it to share. But I do have pictures of my uncle's painting. He chose to do a portrait of his girlfriend, Mary.

Here is the sketch



















Here is the mural at midpoint



















And of course, the final product!






It was awesome to watch the whole painting come together. I wonder how much it will sell for at the auction?

I'm an Aunt ... again!

So my nephew was born this morning!!! He's a healthy 7 pounds and 20 inches! Whoo hoo!

Welcome to the world, Titus. Yes ... his name is Titus (named after my great uncle).

Titus D'Arcangelo.

Tie for short!!!!