Short Circuits (6 page)

A favorite children's story was “Little Black Sambo” about a small boy and a tiger. But the little boy was Negro/Black/Persons of Color/African American and today's children are therefore forbidden enjoy what is simply a charming story. Do you suppose if they changed it to “Little Absolutely-No-Discernible-Racial-Or-Ethnic-Background Fill-In-An-Acceptable-Name” it might be allowed back on the shelf? I doubt it.

I'm using examples of Negro/Black/Persons of Color/African American only because they are the focal point of Political Correctness. I can cite lesser but equal examples where we never ever joke about the Polish or the Irish, or Jews, and any sort of dialect used in telling jokes. Any joke featuring anyone of an ethnic or racial minority is considered shockingly bad taste.

As a member of a minority myself…I'm a homosexual, just in case someone might not have already known…I find references to “Queers,” “Fruits,” “Pansies,” and “Fags” deeply offensive if they are used or intended in a derogatory way. But I've noticed that members of many minorities use among themselves exactly the same words they would not tolerate from others.

We don't even call policemen “policemen” any more…they are “law enforcement officers”; the heads of committees are “Chairpersons.” Oh, come on!

Political correctness has its roots in good intentions but too much of a good thing is a bad thing. As with all things, some degree of moderation is indicated. Common sense, already in such scarce supply as to be an endangered concept, really should prevail. We have, in our zealousness not to offend anyone under any circumstances, in effect robbed our culture and our heritage of the flavor and spice which made this gigantic melting pot of a nation of ours palatable. It is rapidly turning from a mulligan stew (“Mulligan…that's Irish, isn't it? Are you insulting the Irish? Shame on you! Shame!”) into a weak and tasteless gruel.

* * *

REJECTION

The stories we tell over and over of our experiences in life tell a lot more about who we are than we probably realize. I know I have a number of stories I cannot seem to stop retelling. One of them, which, if you've followed these blogs for awhile, I know you've heard before. It is the story of going shopping with my mother when I was probably around eight years old. She was looking for a new throw rug for the kitchen. She couldn't decide between two, and asked me which one I liked best. I did not tell her…not because I didn't prefer one over the other, but because to choose one would hurt the other one's feelings.

I hate rejection, a fact that has strongly influenced my life in keeping me from making any move which might result in it. I'd been painfully aware since elementary school how very much it hurt to be rejected...to be the last person standing there while sides were being chosen for a game.

When I decided to stop by PetSmart the other day to see about possibly adopting a cat, I walked in knowing full well that I was going to be miserable. I knew my heart would go out to every single animal there, and that having to actually choose between them would be excruciatingly difficult, and that I would feel sincerely terrible for the ones I did not choose. (I know, I know…they're cats…or throw rugs…they aren't aware they're being rejected. But I am.)

I've told, too, the story of how, before I was aged out of the gay community's bar scene, I was constantly frustrated because I could not bring myself to approach someone to whom I was attracted unless I had clear indication that the interest might be mutual. My single friends had no such constraints, and as a result I would watch in frustration as time and time again they'd go off to approach someone—sometimes the same person I was interested in—and strike up a conversation. Often they'd be back a few minutes later, unfazed by being rejected. But just as often, they'd end up going home together, while I just stood there, afraid to take a chance.

I went so far as to sign up for a seminar promoting itself as being specifically designed for gay men with rejection issues. There were at least 50 guys there, and after a half hour of general mingling, one of the two psychologists moderating the session said, “All right, now. The first thing we're going to do is a series of exercises to make you feel more comfortable. We'll take three minutes for everyone to select a partner for the exercises.”
Excuse me?
I paid $50 to attend this thing and the first thing they want me to do is
pick a partner
? I was instantly furious, but a guy I'd spoken with briefly who'd said he was as uncomfortable with rejection as I was standing near me and we looked at each other with mutual unhappiness and partnered up.

The exercises were basic…uh…basics. “Tell your partner three things you like about yourself,” etc., then the partner would do the same. Neither I nor the guy I was with paid much attention, both being too angry to do so. But after about twenty minutes of this crap, the moderator said: “All right now, everyone stand up and mill around.” I figured the next section had to be better than this. They'd come nowhere near to addressing the issue of rejection. Five minutes later, the moderator was back for the second half of the program. “All right, now, we'll take three minutes for everyone to pick a partner and….”

I walked out the door without looking back. It was one of the most excruciatingly uncomfortable and infuriating evenings of my life.

One would think being an author would be an odd career choice for one who feared rejection, and they would be right. But having a potential reader pick up my book in a bookstore, then put it down in favor of another has the distinct advantage of the fact that I'm not there to see it. I can live with that.

* * *

THE DOCTOR IS IN

One of the best things about self-analysis is that there's nobody to tell you you're wrong. I have a doctorate in the subject, issued by the prestigious Dorien Grey University and Storm Door Company, and I have been my patient now long before I received my degree. The results of my efforts are, as you may have noticed, published on my website every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I also, of course, am well qualified at analyzing others as well and consider myself something of the Jiffy-Lube of psychoanalysis. You have a problem? Just bring it to me for resolution.

In my active-in-the-community days, I seemed to be a magnet for people with problems, which I was more than eager to take on. It bordered on being a Messiah complex: “Suffer little emotionally insecure gay men to come unto me.” Lord knows there were enough of them. I'm quite sure that one of the major reasons I did it was that in devoting my time to their problems, I didn't have to spend too much time concentrating on my own (one of which, of course, was why and how I really felt qualified to tell other people how to live their lives). I have occasionally looked back with true regret on the amount of money I spent on these people.

It really was rather fascinating: I would walk into a crowded bar and some sort of mystic sonar would start radiating from me across the room: “Emotionally needy? Right this way.” Apparently those who responded saw something in me…a certain stability, perhaps. And compared to some of them, I was indeed the Rock of Gibraltar to their sand castles.

Perhaps there was something of the Pygmalion complex involved. I've always secretly enjoyed control. By taking on people with damaged psyches, I was in effect playing Savior of Lost Souls.

Let me say in my own behalf that occasionally I really do feel that I did some good. For one thing, I genuinely did care and I did try to do something to help. Unfortunately, too many times they were shattered into such tiny pieces I doubt anyone could ever have put them back together.

And there were, of course, disasters from which I never fully recovered, specifically with one-who-shall-remain-nameless who cost me far more than $10,000 over a calamitous two-year relationship. I think I've discussed that one before, but my only excuse for having put up with it was that it was at the time that my mother was dying, and I had far more important things on my mind.

But the fact of the matter is that there are so very many people out there who are, truly, lost and who really can benefit from the help and advice of others. Just listening with an open mind and heart can do a lot. And it is also true that, having led the checkered life I have, I do believe I have a high sense of empathy and can understand how and why people feel like they do. I should point out that this is far more true of gays than heterosexuals who, though I have lived among them all my life, are still largely incomprehensible to me.

Being out of the gay mainstream now, I don't have the opportunity…or as much of a desire…to play Lucy van Pelt sitting on the curb with her little “The Doctor Is In” stand. But, hey, if you have a problem, I'm willing to listen.

RULES OF THE ROAD

AN AGNOSTIC'S CHRISTMAS

Writing this on Christmas morning, while having my morning coffee and chocolate donut (remember “Ruts and Routines”?) and listening to “What Child is This” on public radio, I was thinking of what a short shrift is given to agnostics, who are invariably and totally erroneously lumped in with atheists. Atheists don't believe in God: agnostics just aren't sure based on logic, but definitely don't believe in organized religion, and the atrocities created throughout history by religious fanatics strongly supports this stand.

I love Christmas. I really do. I love the concept of Peace on Earth, and of hope and promise. I find the image of a sky full of angels lovely, as I do the thought of Santa coming down the chimney with a bag of toys. But while Christianity—rather smugly, I'm afraid—assumes it holds a patent on the Golden Rule and all that is good and noble in the world, in truth it does not. The principle of the Golden Rule is shared by most of the world's religions.

I honestly do not think one must belong to a specific religion to believe in goodness and kindness, and to work for the betterment of mankind. Good people are good people. Simply belonging to a religion does not make one good. Bigotry, intolerance, and hate, however subtly hidden beneath all the “Amens” and “Hallelujahs” in the world, are still bigotry, intolerance, and hate and do not make one person or one group superior to any other.

Every human being is…or should be…free to choose whatever concept of God he or she feels comfortable with. Relatively few have or take this option of choice which, like any form of choice, requires asking questions. But it is far easier to simply accept what one is told. So little thinking is involved that way, and thinking too much can give one a headache.

I've been an agnostic since I was old enough to ask “Why?” in matters religious. “Why?” is a question neither welcomed nor tolerated by most organized religions. It is often seen as...well, sacrilegious...to question, and to persist in asking results in such responses as “God has a reason for everything.” Well, thanks, but that was my question: Why? Evasions are not answers. One of my favorite bumper stickers of all time is: “God says it. I believe it. That settles it.” Which is not unlike saying, “My mother, drunk or sober.”

I have no problem with anyone believing anything they want to believe. I appreciate that organized religion is truly and deeply comforting for many, and provides a form of stability in an all-too-unstable world. And as long as your beliefs do not result in a restriction of my own or anyone else's rights and freedoms, more power to you. But I believe with all my heart and soul that if your religion of choice promotes or even condones anything that limits the rights or beliefs of others, you are in the wrong religion.

It is possible to firmly believe in God without showing up in a building every Sunday or Friday to confirm it. Again, if gathering with others who share your beliefs gives you comfort, that is fine…for you, as long as you do not fall into the trap of assuming superiority over others who do not think exactly the same way you think.

I try my very best to be a good person, to treat everyone with courtesy and dignity, and to always take the feelings of others into consideration. I don't always succeed, of course, but I really do try. But the world abounds in those who assume their particular religious beliefs give them the right to impose their beliefs on everyone else. Again, how many millions have, over history, been slaughtered in the name of religion? How can God be on both sides in a war? And by what stupefying arrogance can and do people presume to speak for God?

No, thank you. I prefer to keep my own counsel. I have enough faith in myself to decide fairly accurately what is right and what is wrong…again based on the simple yardstick of the Golden Rule. I truly respect the rights of others to believe or not believe in any organized religion or philosophy even though I may not agree with them. Why does it seem to be too much to ask the same of them?

* * *

BELIEFS

Each of us, from birth, acquires a set of beliefs upon which we base our lives, our attitudes and our actions. There are two basic types of belief: those we format ourselves, from our own experience, and those which are simply handed us. (“This is the way it is, kid.” “Oh. Okay.”) Many of our beliefs are fed us from infancy in the form of the regurgitated beliefs of our parents, not unlike birds feed their young. If our parents and our relatives believe something, we tend to believe it as well. It avoids a lot of pressure from our immediate peers, and saves us an awful lot of that pesky “thinking” stuff.

Many of my personal beliefs, not surprisingly, tend to differ considerably from the norm. I was never one for believing what I was told simply because I was told to believe it. Despite frequent evidence to the contrary, I consider logic to be the single most important factor in any belief. I am constantly in receipt of emails whose sole purpose seems to be to defy and utterly destroy logic. That people spew out this raw sewage is disheartening enough…that other people not only actually accept it as gospel and pass it on to others is mind-boggling.

One belief lies at the very core of my being, and it has to do, paradoxically, with beliefs: you have the inalienable right to believe whatever you wish to believe. You do not have the right to impose your beliefs on me. I find it bitterly ironic that so very many people who demand the right to their beliefs also demand that everyone else share them. I may not share your belief. I may on occasion think your belief is antithetical to mine. But I would never dream of insisting you abandon it solely because I don't agree with it.

I hold strong personal beliefs about religion. 1) I despise the unmitigated gall of proselytizers who show up at your door to show you the “way to the truth”...you obviously being far too stupid to find it yourself. If I wish someone's counsel on the subject, I shall ask for it, thank you. 2) If there is a Hell, the Lava Level is reserved for those who presume to speak for God. I sometimes regret being an agnostic if for no other reason than that I would truly love to see Reverend Phelps and his loathsome ilk suffer eternally the agony they have caused others. 3) When someone tells me they are “born again” I am tempted to suggest that if they'd done it right the first time, they could have saved themselves the trouble. 4) More wars, misery, and human suffering can be attributed to organized religion than to any other cause. 5) While I would truly like to believe in God and Heaven…and freely admit to having called upon Him from time to time…logic overwhelms desire, and I cannot. I can and do hope, but I cannot truly believe.

As to an afterlife, I simply cannot believe in one. I believe, and have stated several times before, that when we die, we simply re-enter the nothingness from which we emerged. We weren't aware of anything before we were born, and we'll not be aware of anything after we die. There is nothing the least bit frightening about this concept, and it encourages me to appreciate the preciousness of every minute of life while I have it.

I continue to believe in the basic goodness of humanity, despite mountain ranges of evidence to the contrary. It is the relatively few sick, perverted, evil creatures among us whose only link to humanity is genetic who cast their pall on the rest of us. I believe we hear so much about the bad things in the world simply because they are the exception, not the rule.

Conversely, I hold those who merely accept whatever they're told, who never question anything, to be second class humans. Ignorance can be cured. Stupidity cannot.

Well, enough for the moment. Oh, and did you know that the Jews control the world and everything in it? They get their power from eating Christian babies. I heard that somewhere, so it must be true.

* * *

THREE RULES

If all the books of laws and regulations designed to keep humanity from running totally amok were lined up end to end, they would stretch far beyond the horizon. Yet in reality, fully 95 percent of them could be eliminated if everyone followed only three elementary precepts.

“Do unto others as you would have done unto you.”
What could be simpler? The problem, alas, lies in the gulf between theory and practice and in the perversities of human nature (in this case, think of its application by masochists). But for the vast majority of people, the Golden Rule is just that…golden. We all like to be treated with courtesy and consideration. We all appreciate a smile from a stranger, and any simple gesture of kindness. But that other old saying “It's better to give than to receive” doesn't apply. We're happy to get a nod and a smile from a stranger, yet to how many strangers do we nod and smile? Again, the perversities of human nature step in: we're too busy to think of it, or we're afraid any such gesture will be either misinterpreted or coldly rejected. So we do nothing. And far too often, we are so surprised by these small acts of kindness when we receive them that we do not reciprocate them.

I've related the story before of a young man in San Francisco who jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge. He left a suicide note in his apartment outlining his depression and sense of total isolation. The note ended with this (paraphrased) sentence. “So I am going to walk to the bridge, and, if anyone even acknowledges my existence along the way, I will not jump.” He jumped.

“Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
Adopted as a mantra by Alcoholics Anonymous, it was written in 1936 by a theologian named Reinhold Niebuhr. Who, alcoholic or not, can possibly argue with that precept? Yet how many of us actually follow it? The time, effort, and emotion expended in fretting over things over which we have absolutely no control is astonishing, and even more astonishing is that we seem incapable of recognizing and acting on those problems over which we do or can by trying have control. Easier to throw up our hands than to work to correct them.

“This above all else: to thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.”
Polonius's bit of fatherly advice to Laertes in
Hamlet
is as valid today as when it was written 400 or so years ago. Unless we are true to ourselves, unless we can stand up for what we believe in and constantly strive to be better than we are, we might as well be a sea slug as a human. We belong to a contentious, often totally dysfunctional, all-too-greedy, survival-of-the-fittest race. Yet it is our capacity to acknowledge our shortcomings and work to improve ourselves that separates us from the other life-forms on our planet. Each of us faces, every day of our lives, the challenge to be better than we are. We all have the capability to change the world. We may not be able to single-handedly discover a cure for cancer, or eradicate poverty. Improving the lives of others needn't be that complex, but as simple as giving a smile to another human being who might very badly need one.

Smiles and kind words cost nothing. It's better to have 500 smiles ignored than not to give one which can make a difference in someone's life. Who knows who is walking toward the bridge?

* * *

SIMPLE RULES

It somehow always comes as something of a surprise every time I'm faced with the fact that life ain't easy, and the passage through it is frequently chaotic. To bring some semblance of order, rules were invented, both societal and personal. Since life is a cumulative learning experience, the rules each person sets up for himself/herself tend to be far more varied and flexible than societal rules. I have come up with a few simple rules to help my passage as smooth as possible.

Many of my own rules are in response to the fact that I've always been excruciatingly aware that life is far too short under the best of circumstances to meekly accept those wrongs and unnecessary injustices over which I have any small degree of control.

In no particular order of importance, here are a few of them: