Doug's Birthday

A couple months before I turned two, I got the best Christmas present ever!  That’s a selfish way for me to put it, because this present had to be shared with the rest of my family.  What we got was a little brother, Doug.  No longer would it just be me against three big sisters … now we were starting to even the odds.

The novelty wore out soon enough, though.  Brothers that close in age are not destined to have a totally smooth relationship, and we fought like cats and dogs.  We fought like brothers, actually, which may have been abetted by Dad getting us each a pair of boxing gloves one Christmas.  But through all the fighting, and sibling bullshit, we loved one another as only brothers can.

From a very young age, Doug had a wicked wit.  He sharpened it talking back to television shows; it wasn’t ‘Bewitched’ to Doug, it was ‘Bebitched’, and to him, it wasn't ‘Marcus Welby, MD’, it was ‘Make-us Sickby’.  It was juvenile humor; ideal for us in our pre-teen years.  And by the standards of kid creativity, I think they were pretty damn clever.

Doug grew up to become a solid, responsible man, one I have always admired.  Doug was the definitive stand-up guy.  I know from a couple times he pulled my ass out of the fire.  And while I was ricocheting all over the place, moving to Bend, Portland, Corvallis, the Bay Area, etc., Doug stayed local, and was a solid anchor my parents always knew was within reach.  Though younger, Doug is my big brother, and I look up to him.

Doug and I were both political, and both stubborn.  We differed on many issues of the day, but it was never because he was uninformed.  He read many very challenging books on history, political theory, and anything else that captured his interest.  We often found we had read the same book - but somehow he came away with different, equally valid conclusions than I had reached.  

Doug was intensely shy.  He rarely started a conversation, even within the family, though in our safe zone, he would engage, and share the wit, humor, and intelligence he kept sharp on his own.  It always felt like a small success to engage him in conversation.  Beneath his quiet exterior was a treasure trove; unlocking it for a moment or a while was worth whatever secret sauce it required.  Then, just as you're enjoying drawing him out, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, only to find him gone when you return.  He was never into those long goodbyes that stretch for hours in many families.  He would just tell those in the room that he was leaving ... and then disappear. 

This year has been terribly difficult for so many people.  We didn’t lose Doug to COVID, but we lost him at the very beginning of the pandemic, so our grieving has not been able to include a memorial gathering to honor him.  We don't even know for sure what caused it.  The medical examiners were so preoccupied with the crush of the pandemic that, once they determined what he didn't die of, and didn't suspect foul play, they didn't dig deeper.  It felt very much like the same pattern we had known forever ... we just looked away and he was gone.

Many in my family are very private, so I have not shared much about losing our brother.  But today is Doug’s birthday, the first of them since I was one year old, without him, so I make an exception.

Doug, I love you, my brother; and I esteem you more than your humility would likely allow you to recognize.  I hope you are safe and warm, and enjoying this day when we celebrate your birth.

Agnostic Proselytizing

You know what belief system has never converted people at the point of the sword?  Agnosticism, that’s who!  Agnosticism is inherently non-proselytizing, because the core of our belief is that we just don’t know.  And how do we force conversion without a compelling message?  

But maybe doubt itself could be our battle strategy.  If we could get inside the heads of the opposing warriors with questions like … 

• *What if the emperor really isn’t a deity?
• *What if the crusade really isn’t about saving souls so much as gaining real estate for the Pope?
• *What if beef really IS what’s for dinner?
• *What if there are only seventy-one virgins waiting for you - and the seventy-second one is that hottie you had your eye on?  

… and so many other possibilities.  People tend to find all of these laughable, except the one THEY believe.  

We may be missing out on a great campaign - or maybe not.  I just can’t be sure.  

I just can’t be sure.  

Madeleine Get-out-the-vote drive

 I can’t stand it when people constantly put up brag posts about their kids.  It’s like they just want to bask in the light their kids cast off, and take credit for their kid’s actions.  

And I know I just posted a really cute baby picture of Madeleine yesterday … 

So, here goes.  Sue me!  My kid called me this morning from halfway across Ohio.  She has been in Michigan for six weeks registering voters in that critical swing state, in time for these people to vote.  Now she’s driving to North Carolina to help manage a get-out-the-vote drive in what now appears that it might also be a critical swing state.  

This is 100% Madeleine.  I take no credit for her drive, her initiative, or the strength of her convictions.  The pride I feel at this juncture has nothing to do with stealing her fire.  I am happy to enjoy the warmth of being nearby.  

Which reminds me … I’ll be flying there after the election, and driving back with her, coast to coast.  The kid is great travelling company.  

Shere Hite Obit

 RIP Shere Hite.

I read The Hite Report soon after it came out, and it changed my life.  At twenty-one, I was just approaching adulthood in terms of sexuality.  I wanted to learn everything I could about intimacy, pleasure, and sharing; this book could not have come at a better time.

Much of what is contained in the Hite Report is now so obvious, it hardly bears mentioning.  But at the time, it was revolutionary - and the author paid a steep price for the change it initiated.  But for a kid my age, it was the golden key.  As much as anything, the message for men was to listen to our partners - to let them be a partner, rather than merely an object; to be open to trying new things, so that the experience could be as satisfying for them as for us.

Nobody wants to be told that they've been 'doing it wrong', or not doing enough.  The backlash among the (generally male) powers-that-be was overwhelming.  Despite our self-delusions, we are still in many ways a very puritanical society, and many people wanted no talk about women’s sexual pleasure.   Ultimately, this liberation hero chose permanent exile from our country, rather than to continue immersion in our backward society.  

Thank you, Shere Hite!

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/09/11/books/shere-hite-dead.html

Catheter Funnies

#1

That Instant of Panic ... when you feel the tug in your groin that tells you you're reached the end of your catheter leash ... just as you realize that you have shifted your balance, and committed to that next step further from 'base camp.  

#2

So, they sent me home with a catheter sticking up inside my penis, and a list of post-surgical instructions. 

My favorite instruction says that I can 'resume sexual activity' by now ...

but they didn't provide any 'adaptive' instructions regarding how to make that work with the dick leash.  

Recognizing Essential Workers

I’d like to suggest something; a very simple absolutely free thing we can give another, which will make them feel recognized, and improve both their day and yours.  

Next time you’re at the store, or McDonalds, a pub, or a similar place - thank the worker across the counter, or wherever … not some rote comment, said with no real feeling; look them in the eye, and say, “Thank you for putting your life on the line, so I can buy...” and finish by pointing at the groceries, lunch, drink, whatever.  

I have begun doing this, and have been repaid with the most overwhelming gratitude.  These people deserve better than to be treated like furniture, even under normal circumstances.  In our current crisis, they truly are putting their lives on the line, and people still just look right through them.  Please don’t be one of them … take this small step to demonstrate that you are a decent human being. 

Surgeon, I submit Me

Dear surgeon, I submit me to thy knife;
to replumb my wayward entrails, 
which have given me such strife.

Co-lo-rect this misdirection, 
and segregate the flow; 
that the vapor trail less taken
might be taken nevermo. 

And when the cuttin's done, will that be all?
Will I be clean, or will you find microflora
The future is not ours to see, you see
It is all ... viscera sera