“I wish for a world that views disability, mental or physical, not as a hindrance but as unique attributes that can be seen as powerful assets if given the right opportunities”
– Oliver Sacks

“Oh, I’m disabled.”

That simple reply follows the inevitable question posed every single time my husband meets someone. He avoided it for years. He would first reply with his old profession (private security) and then his new one (landscape photography), then he simply gave in and was honest. He doesn’t work because he is in all ways it is defined…disabled.

His dopamine responsive dystonia (DRD) pulled him out of the workforce in 2014. He could not physically work. His body was stiff, tremoring and causing pain. His mental faculties began to decline precipitously as well. Post-Its did not work and he could not complete his tasks, so he was forced to resign. We barely made it with one paycheck and the generosity of two sets of parents. We did everything we could for years to get Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI) and we finally got it. Definitely not a windfall, but it means rent was paid on time and we didn’t have to rely so heavily on our families. I will not moan about this time in our lives. We are the fortunate ones. Many people who are evicted and can’t afford food and medication do not have family that can help.

Fast forward to today. My husband cannot make a living as a photographer (his dream endeavor) not because it is really hard to be an artist to begin with, but because his disease makes this work downright impossible. At least for now until surgeries and other treatments might help. So…he answers the question of, “So what do you do for a living” with “I’m disabled”.

What follows is always expected. The questioner becomes noticeably uncomfortable. There is no time to get into it in a casual conversation. The years of trying to find a diagnosis. What daily life is like for him. So the discomfort goes both ways.

No…we are not offended that you asked a question to learn more about us. And yes…he is actually disabled, not lazy. No…we don’t assume you jumped to the conclusion that he is not disabled and is mooching of the government. Or did you? Argh! All these thoughts are jumping in everyone’s heads with no opportunity to dig in and really learn about each other. Because we just met. That’s kind of weird.

My husband does a really good job of hiding his disability in public. He smiles, he walks he stands. But, about 20 minutes in, you might notice he leans as he struggles with pain from standing. He starts squinting and clenching his jaw just a bit. Then you might catch a limp. I’ll have to excuse us (we leave early for everything) and at that point he’ll barely make it to the car. He’ll be in pain for the rest of the day followed by a “bad day” where it is hard for him to even move around our apartment.

Some days are better. He can go out and even spend a few hours in public spaces. Costco is like running a marathon. He loves Costco, but the rest of the day and the next day is rough.

Getting out of the apartment is such a rare occasion that even mundane errands warrant a selfie.

Why does he even try? Well, dear reader, to be…um…human? He needs social interaction just like everyone else, even when it causes physical pain and confusion for others.

Don’t hesitate to ask about his disability. We’re not ashamed of it and discussing it is a form of creating awareness. It empowers us, because so many people have yet to find their voice when it comes to their own disability. By talking openly we can create more comfortable spaces for everyone. You can also go beyond and ask what he loves to do. My husband is an amazing artist. He loves everything science. He is much more than his disease.

Even though I can talk about my job, you can ask me about my disability, too! At least give me a shot before passing judgement on why I have to leave early or why I can’t eat or drink this or that. I’m a total open book about ulcerative colitis and IBS! I’ve learned so much about the lining of the colon these past couple of years…fascinating! I’ll take you there, but I understand if you don’t want to go there, as my disability has more of an “Ew” factor even though it allows me to work still. I’ve been seizure-free for fifteen years, but mentioning my epilepsy still makes people uncomfortable. No one wants to be the person that has to respond to a seizure, it’s scary! So when people learn I have epilepsy, the most common response is that they cross their arms and take two steps backward. I wish I was kidding. I don’t get hurt by it anymore. If you aren’t the cool and calm person when it comes to emergency medical situations, we’re probably not going to be besties anyway.

I don’t speak for all those that are disabled, both with jobs and those on SSDI, but I will speak for me and my husband on the subject. Our diseases give us plenty to fear and fight. So, talking about is not at all uncomfortable compared to living with it. You shouldn’t be uncomfortable either. Don’t give up on making a connection. Connections are healthy…even with those of us that are not.

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'”

Jeremiah 29:11

It’s been five years since I’ve written a blog post. Do people even blog anymore? The answer is an unmistakable “No”. There are Substacks and Reddit posts. Twitter is now X, Instagram has Threads and this elder millennial (without a TikTok account) is writing into the wilderness. Will anyone read this? My husband might. He has been pushing me to write an update on a previous post concerning our journey to find a diagnosis for his incredibly rare movement disorder. I relented because I received my annual notification that I will be billed for WordPress.

I do cherish you, dear Reader! If in fact, you do exist.

The shitty thing about chronic illnesses is that they are chronic. (Disclaimer: This blog post contains an explicative; should have written that sooner.) I have quite a few chronic illnesses, and am thankful that my ulcerative colitis is in remission (yay!), I am still seizure-free (yay!) and now just have to deal with puffing up like a blowfish due to my IBS and being severely cold all the time from my hypothyroidism. The hottest summer on record, while being detrimental and depressing for the planet, has been very comforting for my cold bones. Even though IBS and hypothyroidism are common for women as they get older, I got mine young. And now I’m older. I’m *shiver* middle aged. So they’re worse.

My husband’s dopamine-responsive dystonia (DRD) has not gone away and he still deals with intense nerve pain from his tight muscles who are getting some ridiculous signals from his neurodivergent brain. I use this adjective because his adult ADHD is also out of control. Between us, we have six doctors and a huge list of medications.

Each disease comes with a list of really weird symptoms, so throw Dr. Google in there, too.

The ADHD is awful. The inability for my husband to focus and contribute is a huge weight on both of us. Even the simplest task is like running into a brick wall for him. Take out the running. That’s too much effort for his brain and body. It’s like a brick wall falling from the sky and squishing him so that he is in pain (DRD) and cannot move (DRD and ADHD).

Most posts I have read for couples living with ADHD are about how not to kill each other. I’m crabby….all of the time. Even when I am having a great day…still crabby. I usually don’t feel good physically and my husband never feels good. He’ll have days where the pain is so immense that he cannot even talk or breathe to days where he can get out of the apartment for a short burst and walk around a bit. There are no days in which he feels truly good in his brain and body.

I still remember when I used to depend on my husband for some things, and remembering that and having that old expectation leaves me resentful. So I have to let go of those memories and those expectations and deal with the here and now.

I know, Reader, it could be worse! It’s not a terminal illness. I keep that perspective, I do.

So, when you are in the chronic illness rut, confusion still reigns. Where do we go from here? I have no choice but to hound doctors for appointments, tests, referrals…in the never ending hunt for the next answer.

Five years ago, I thought we would never be running in this circle five years later. I would never have thought of myself as a wife and caregiver.

I was naïve. Here I am again, though. I’m freakin’ hopeful! Why? Because I have this unrelenting trust in God. There is a reason why we are going through these trials. So, I have hope that we will emerge from them in a better place. A healthier place? At least a less crabbier place.

In five years he’s got to be healthier. In five years I’ll be better. A better wife, a better partner. We’ll be able to go on dates on the weekends more often. We’ll be able to be more outdoorsy! We’ll travel more! We’ll be happier and healthier…

…and then menopause will hit.

Reader, I am only joking. I won’t get menopause. I’ll be that rare woman who just never has symptoms! And if I do…the hot flashes will warm my cold bones!

Okay, is that less trust in God more just being naïve?

If you live with chronic illness or with a partner with ADHD, feel free to vent and comment below.

“Sleep is the interest we have to pay on the capital which is called in at death; and the higher the rate of interest and the more regularly it is paid, the further the date of redemption is postponed.” 
~Arthur Schopenhauer

Are you sleeping?
Man, I feel awful.  Some days are bad, some days are worse.  Headaches and stomachaches against the backdrop of fatigue.  My sluggishness began about five months ago and has become progressively worse.  Medication doesn’t help and caffeine only helps in the morning.  After listing everything I could possibly think of, my doctor pinpointed sleep – or rather, my lack of good sleep.

We all know that to be healthy, you need to get sleep.  But lack of sleep also impairs the body’s ability to digest food.  Melatonin is associated with our sleep cycle, but it also works to regulate digestion.  Sleep deprivation means that the hormones melatonin and prolactin, produced in the middle of the night, are not able to do their job of enhancing immunity.  Immunity clears up toxins in the gastrointestinal tract.

Ironically, my stomach pains wake me up in the middle of the night.  At least three times during a night.

What started my sleep problems?  Stress.  I may not feel stress in the conventional sense, but circumstance has added a whole new plate issues to learn to deal with, whether I feel stressed about it or not today.  Stress hormones lead to insomnia and sleep disturbances.  My attempt to regain sleep by focusing on and dealing with the emotions associated with my stressors – apparently causes more stress.  A study out of Tel Aviv University found that subjects who focused on their emotions and anxiety shortened their sleep cycles.

Ironically, lack of sleep, stress, and stressing about lack of sleep, have also caused vivid nightmares and sometimes night terrors, which also wake me up a few times during the night.  What wards off nightmares?  Getting good sleep.

When the morning finally arrives, I am exhausted and dealing with fresh headaches.

Months of exhaustion and just feeling sick can cause depression.  Guess what?  Depression causes sleep issues and digestive problems.

So, I am trapped in a vicious circle of cause and effect.  I am sick and tired of feeling sick and tired.

It will take time, and a lot of work for my body to return to a healthy balance.  But being healthy, and more importantly, being myself, is worth the work.

“Health food makes me sick.”
— Calvin Trillin

My mom used to let me lick the beaters.  I really loved fluffy sugar butter back in the day.

After my dad was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes, my mom learned to cook healthier.  Then I learned as an adult to bake healthier.  But, it is always much more fun to cook guilty pleasure food.  The rich, the decadent, the “so bad it’s good” items.  Why?  Because people love you more.  Love and adoration for the cook comes easier when food is rich.  I speak truth!

In college, I decided to pursue a healthier lifestyle, starting with what I ate.  It came in stages, but my meals slowly became more organic, less meat, less saturated fat and full of whole grain goodness.  Then I became a veggie (lacto-ovo vegetarian is the more”annoying to other people” term), so I am on my own in most cases now.

My mother (see previous post) opened a true to form diner, so the food served is comfort food.  She serves healthy options, and you can actually order the food any way you want it (egg white omelette with fresh veggies, please!), but ironically, that’s not what people come for.  My mom sells a lot of gooey cinnamon rolls.

I had a dream I ate french fries from Sonic and woke up nauseated.  I savor my protein pancakes, my soy grilled cheese sandwiches and my baked tofu.  To me, deliciousness.  To others, I have hypersensitive taste buds, because everything I eat apparently to them tastes like newspaper.   I am the rebel child.

My mother creates rich decadence, pleasing to the eye and palate.   My mission is to create healthy food that tastes delicious, too.

Will I be successful?  I have had some successes in the past.  Check back for some of my experiment results.

“Space… the Final Frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before.”
— attributed to various television producers, including Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry

Needless to say, I blame my mother.  Needless to say for those who know my mother.  For those of you who don’t know my mother:  It’s her fault, and this is why.

When I was growing up, Mom demanded we watch her television shows.  I was held captive, and had no choice in the matter.  (My mother might argue that she deserved a few hours of her fave shows after hours upon hours of Disney movies on repeat, Animaniacs and Super Mario Bros.  Whatever Mom, this is my blog, I am the victim/hero.)

Mom loved Star Trek:  The Next Generation.  So, late in the afternoon, early in the evening, we would cozy up in our old recliners, and I would huff and puff.  The opening scenes and the opening credits would pass, and I was hooked.  Dad would undoubtedly walk in from working outside, ask if it was a “good one” and Mom would say, “Oh yeah…”  Before Mom could describe the intertwining relationships of the crew, the threat from strange new worlds and Data’s new step in coming more human, Dad would already be halfway back out of the door.  This was a ritual that never changed.

When the movies came out after the series ended in the mid-nineties, Mom would drag me to them.  I was held hostage.  Mom might counter, that she deserved to pick a movie once in a while because, like all mothers, she rarely got to see anything not labeled “kiddie.”  So she went with geeky, not kiddie, and my young mind was forceably molded by Gene Roddenberry’s vision of the future.

After the last Star Trek:  The Next Generation feature film, I remember we cried.  I know it was partly because of the storyline, but also because it also marked the ending of my childhood in a way, as it hit theaters when I was a bit older.  (Disclaimer:  I bawled during Toy Story 3 for this same reason, although I was way older than “entering adulthood” when that movie was released.  Omigod, I’m getting misty right now just thinking about Toy Story 3.  Andy saying goodbye…playing with them one…last…time…)

Well, all my television shows I became addicted to last year went on HuluPlus hiatus as the summer hit.  Nothing is not Netflix…EVER.  Then, I saw Star Trek:  The Next Generation.  I thought I would watch the pilot for kicks and giggles.  It was like watching a badly acted play.  Three months later, I’ve watched all seven seasons.

It’s funny how you don’t realize you’ve turned into your parent until moments like these.   Some episodes gave me flashbacks of sitting with my Mom, and I could even hear her gasp, or mention how beautiful Marina was, or whisper, “Poor Data.”  I felt like I was bonding with my mom this past summer even though she is hundreds of miles away.

I even recruited someone to join me in my Geekdom.  Smee* huffed and puffed when I started watching the series, but when I would ask him what he wanted to watch, he would say, “I don’t know, uh…just…whatever you want…just…let’s watch Star Trek.  I don’t care.”

Haha!  Busted, Smee!  Your geekiness now goes beyond gamer geek!

Instead of trying to be super cool, I decided to embrace the geek in me.  I am already super cool, and the geek part of me only adds to my well-rounded awesomeness!  The show is so much fun, I would be a total snob by denying it.  And if, Reader, you are thinking, “Omigod, you are so cheesy for watching that show” I rebut that NO, I am not cheesy for watching the show.  I get my cheesiness from Dad.  There’s a difference.  Mom is the reason I watch Star Trek.  Dad is the reason “Until the Last Teardrop Falls” by Freddy Fender is on my iPod.

So, now I have watched all episodes of STTNG.  I’ll give you time.  Did you get the acronym?  Okay, can we move on now?

Now that I have watched the series, I am a bit sad it is over for me again.  Now I’m watching the movies.

*Name has been changed to protect his geeky true identity. 

“Your life does not get better by chance, it gets better by change.”
— Jim Rohn

My last day of work at the JDRF office was incredibly weird.  It felt like I was cleaning out my locker after graduation.  For the first time in over six years, my inbox was…empty.  When I walked out the door after 5pm, the theme song from Cheers became stuck in my head.  I’m going from an office where everyone knows me to one where I’m the new girl.

Like high school, though, I had a case of senioritis at JDRF.  That feeling of needing to grow and learn more.  I didn’t make the decision to leave because I grew tired of the mission.  If nothing else, I am more excited about our progress and the future of diabetes management therapies and technology than ever before!  I simply had smushed my face against a professional ceiling (which becomes very uncomfortable after time) and then reached the conclusion that I would make a better impact on our mission as a volunteer than as a paid staff member.

There are so many things I feel I should know about my career, marketing, that I do not.  A chance to learn and apply can only be found through deliberate change.

Over my six and a half years with JDRF, I have met so many that have become family to me.  Whether they consider me family or not is moot.  They are the family I have taken hostage and claimed my own.  Expect me at family gatherings.  I’m the vegetarian holding a fruit salad.

Because of all the people I have met living with type 1 diabetes that are waiting for better until gone, I will volunteer and continue to be a part of an organization pursuing better treatments, cure therapies and a future free of type 1 diabetes.  That one shot cure does not exist, but steadily cure therapies will contribute to cures.  By no means soon, but by no means impossible.  I am one of the ones that believes in cures, and I am one of the ones that believe we need them.

One thing I have learned is that disease plays a different game in each person.  I can currently control my epilepsy with one type of oral medication and routine.  Others cannot, battling seizures daily and losing part of their independence.  Some with type 1 diabetes have blood glucose levels more in range more often, are able to accomplish much more than others who work equally as hard and cannot achieve “control.”  Disease can inspire you and it can burden you.  For those who are burdened more than others, we must continue to fight and not pretend that disease can be conquered only through positive thoughts and a lecture.  Quality of life must continue to get better for everyone, until there is no enemy to fight.

I pray this new career will bring growth and fulfillment.  What I know it will bring is new experiences, which are necessary.  I will be working with a reputable company to market nutrition, health and wellness.  Along the way, I hope to become more healthy in mind and body, and therefore able to give more back to my family.  All my family.

“Leisure only means a chance to do other jobs that demand attention.”
~Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr

I must admit, I often envy the women in yoga pants.

You must be aware of the ones to which I am referring.  The ones sitting (in yoga pants) at a coffee place or cafe, on a weekday at 10am drinking iced coffee and smiling.  Probably just finished an invigorating yoga session (or yoga sesh) to begin the rest of their day…in yoga pants.  I glare at them from my car on my way back to the office.  I, wearing heals and slacks, with jealousy in my heart and curiosity in my mind.

What do they DO all day?  I know they strive for perfect posture, while I predict my future with a hump from sitting at a computer for most of the day.  Except when I run out for work errands or meetings and slouch in the car.  Will they exercise more later?  I do tricep dips from my office chair.  I usually stop after one, because my chair is on rollers, so this practice ends in minor head injury.

When I am driving on my way to work and I see them power walking in pairs, I wonder what I would do if I didn’t have to go to work?   My workouts would be later, I could volunteer, get all my domestic errands and chores done during the day, have another afternoon workout, read, write, plan vacations…all in my comfy yoga pants!!  (In my fantasy, I don’t have children yet because that would be the equivalent of multiple full-time jobs.)

But then…

How quickly would I get bored?  I would need projects and other things to do, and since I am not crafty, I would have to volunteer more, and then that would lead to me feeling tired after my days of volunteering in an office, which would lead to me reading, doing errands and chores and working out early in the morning or in the evening…so…

My yoga pants would eventually be folded up again for my 30 minutes in the early morning of  in home yoga.

But I can’t help it.  I still envy the women who wear yoga pants between 9am and 5pm on weekdays, and fantasize of a spirtual and physical rejuvenation (and better posture) achieved by a leisurely life in yoga pants.

“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” — Matthew 11:28-30

I think I’m emotionally ready to write this post now.  Welcome to “Behind the Scenes.” 

Transforming Lives:  Diabetes Today and Tomorrow started out as an idea from a best practice from another JDRF Chapter.  That one large Outreach event that brings in as many people as possible because it only happens once a year.  It’s social, it’s educational.  When I heard it, I knew I wanted one for our Chapter.  Undertaking an event we had never done before was immediately deemed, “next year or the year after.”

Putting off a signature event seemed like a comfortable idea because we had never done one.  But it became apparent that we couldn’t know what it was like to host this event without hosting this event.  Also, well…people were not attending the other smaller events held in different areas throughout the year.  Attendance was dwindling…rapidly.  That pushed our Outreach Committee to say it was time. 

I found some great help in veteran conference Chapters, and they shared resources, gave great advice and followed up.  I started 13 months before the event actually planning it.  I had the go ahead from our volunteer Outreach Chair, our Outreach Committee, and I asked a few to be on the planning committee. I talked to National staff, recruited speakers. 

The initial excitement was…exciting!  I would get chills as our speakers were confirmed and as venue proposals came back lower and lower.  There was pushback because we weren’t charging people to attend…so no direct revenue.  This would be 100% giving back to the community.  Other events we teach people impacted by type 1 diabetes (T1D) how to fundraise effectively.  This one we would be bringing experts from outside our state into our city to teach people how to manage diabetes to the best of their ability while finding the motivation and support to do so.  Not to mention inspire hope in the research we together fund.

I knew this was a good idea.  I had people who believed in it (my committee and close volunteers).  I knew it would be hard, but I could see it!

As 2012 approached, I was burnt out.  The planning, the clawing and scratching for anything to move forward – it was weighing on me.  I was so over this event.  When I was asked, “How is conference?”  I would get this look on my face, as if they should know that I was building the locomotive that was about to run me over.  I thought this event was so logitically heavy, there’s just no way.

Thirty days out we had a committee meeting in which one of my dearest friends said, “Look how much you’ve done!”  This would be the healthy way of looking at things.  I was reassured many times that it would be great.  I love volunteers.  You have no idea, and looking back, I could not have done anything without the support of my committee, staff and friends.  At the time, my thinking was, I have 30 days to get a LOT done, or this conference is going to suck.  It’s going to be awful, and all of you will deny any affiliation with it.   Listen when I say, this is going to be AWFUL.  A-W-F-U-L.  So much, there’s just so much, omigod, so much.” 

My colleagues were buried under mountains of work with all our concurrent programs and responsibilities.  My committee – buried.  Everytime I had a call or meeting with a committee member we would talk about how tired we were.  I remember one meeting in which my friend and I just stared at each other blankly.  So much was happening at the same time for everyone.  It was insanity. 

I had to give it to God.  It wasn’t just task lists (I had about four pages a day), but the figuring out what my task lists SHOULD be that was stressful.  So, I prayed.  I started praying at my desk.  When my brain would turn off *click* I would pray and then keep going.  Suddenly, I could see my blessings and received new ones.

My number one volunteer spent countless hours with me.  Granted, he claims to be in love with me.  Wants to spend forever with me, but NO, I did not take advantage of his adoration.  Okay, I totally did.  To protect his identity, uh, let’s call him..um..Smee…yeah. 

Smee started coming in every day after work to spend at least two hours doing paper assembly for 500 people.  I even gave him the task to checking the pen drawer.  We have hundreds (if not thousands) of pens in the office that lack caps or ink – we just didn’t know which ones.  Now, we do.  Thank you, Smee.  Smee also worked in the office with me on weekends.  He was there for the reception the night before and for the event.  He made airport runs, carried boxes, ran errands and told me he was proud of me.  He made sure I ate food and kept hydrated.  God must cherish my sanity,  because Smee is a blessing!

I had emotional support from my Twitter friends!  I even have one close to my heart that remembered the days until the “big day” and cheered me on!

A couple of weeks before the event, I had a list of volunteers, but just could not focus on this incredibly crucial aspect of an event.  I needed an expert, and my colleagues were even MORE buried!  Deadlines were tight around here.  So, one volunteer said that she had years of event planning experience and would be available to do more.  I met her at Starbucks, she took copies of everything and took it on.  I might have been the grande Starbucks, but right then and there I was euphoric.  I praised God.  This was a conference MIRACLE!

Tailoring a conference for one person 500 times over made me crazy.  Every single registration took time and focus, like a puzzle.  Finally, after what felt like years but was really 13 months, every schedule was customized, every printed material ready, lists assembled, staff trained and ready to go, and then Friday the 13th came and we welcomed our speakers and began setting up.  Lunch with a group of people I know by their books, stellar reputations and profile pics was surreal.  It’s quite a shame my brain was mush.  I would have asked so many better questions!  A committee member stopped me in the hallway and asked if I was okay, not in the way I was asked 5 bazillion times, but in a really concerned way.  “Yeah, just tired.”  I went to the bathroom and scared myself.  I looked awful!!  Bad enough to scare small children and to trick-or-treat for sure. 

The next day, in a suit that does not fit AT ALL (no time for tailors), I prayed God bless this event.  It would take the hand of God working through the hands of all our volunteers and staff to pull this off.  There were so many intricate moving parts happening at the same time. 

I knew each attendee by name.  I knew if they had emailed me, I knew if they had dietary restrictions, I knew their connection, their schedule, where they drove in from.  So, when less than half of the people that registered actually came to the event, yes, I was disappointed.  After the event, I was pulling all the unused schedules for recycling, and I felt their absence.  Each and every one.  But that day, for those that attended, I felt such a sense of community.  I felt part of something bigger than myself.  A coming together to laugh and inspire and LEARN.  I love to learn.  I got hugs from familiar faces and got to meet new people.  All the stress gained and sanity lost dissipated in one thank you.  And I got more than one thank you.  All of us that believed in it saw the gratitude conveyed for one or some or all of the small moving pieces. 

I felt His presence, saw His hand in it.  We made a good start.  My cup runneth over. 

“In every dispute between parent and child, both cannot be right, but they may be, and usually are, both wrong. It is this situation which gives family life its peculiar hysterical charm.”
–Isaac Rosenfeld

“Speaking of mashed potatoes, Obama…”

“No, no, no, no, nah nah nah NAH!!!  Clock it, Mom.  We made it 17.4 minutes before President Obama joined us for dinner.  New record.”

What is that saying about how it is impolite to discuss religion and politics at the table?  I’m on the same page religion-wise with my parents.  In fact, I love talking about our relationship with God, as it brings us closer together. 

Politics seems to have the opposite impact nowadays, and I feel serious political discussions should be avoided altogether for the sake of familial harmony.  So, when my parents, let’s narrow this down, DAD wants to talk about the presidential election, I have to stop him.  Dead in his tracks.  Sometimes he gets as much out as “O” before I know where it’s going.  I’ll find anything to distract.  From food to what that cloud looks like (I’ve been desperate).

Our political views have diverged a bit.  I’m more in the center of the political spectrum, Dad is a good 26,814 miles to the right of me.  How did this happen?

I was raised in a very political home.  Politics everywhere.  Mom was a chairwoman of the Republican Party, organizing events.  As a child, I remember it as a blur of Mom, red, white and blue, and “GOP.”  Buttons, buttons, buttons.  So…many…bumper stickers!  I don’t think I knew what GOP stood for until I was in my teens!  All I knew is that even though I couldn’t vote, the candidate my parents backed was the one that had my FULL support.  Which for me meant not complaining to much about attending all the meetings, and plastering my shirts and sweaters with stickers.   As vehemetly Republican as we sounded, my parents were never straight ticket voters.  They took their time learning about candidates and their positions.  That is what I took from them, even though I have left the elephant stickers at the family home. 

One candidate, unquestionably, was always the best person for the job. Dad.  Dad spent 44 years in law enforcement, and many a time in an elected position.   Wow, I remember the smell of spray paint for the yard signs, door-to-door campaigning, debates, parades, meetings, more meetings and speeches. I can even feel the bumper sticker glue on my fingers when I remember those times.  Dad won many, lost a few.  He always said, “You don’t demand respect, you earn it.”  And he was a man not of empty promises but of action and his compassion for others is still so immense that it baffles me.  Somehow genetically engineered by God for public service, my Dad was the best for the job every time.  Disagree with me?  I  have a fist waiting for your face. 

So, outside of Dad, there hasn’t been a candidate that I would follow to the ends of the earth.  I look at who best aligns with my way of thinking.  I’m not a liberal, not conservative.  I’m a voting American. 

When I go home to visit my parents, FOX News is on…all the time.  They wake up to it, and they fall asleep with it on, leaving me to theorize that they are hypnotized in the middle of the night.  The constant flood of conservative pundits pulling my parents farther and farther to the right while they sleep!  When Dad brings up national political news, my eyes bug out of my head, and when I rebut, his eyes do the same thing.  We can’t debate we are so baffled with each other. We just start words without finishing them and stare at each other with our mouths agape.   But if we talk about his role in the community, in local politics, I can see that Dad still doesn’t follow party lines, he follows his beliefs.  And for that, in the realm of politics we usually disagree in, he has earned my respect, not just as his kid but as a voting adult. 

With our differences in political opinion, my father and I handle it the same way we handle most things – a sense of humor.  I send Dad Obama cards for every holiday.  He chuckles when I scream, “Don’t talk about politics at the TABLE!!!”

When he talks about how great Sarah Palin is, and I recite my sonatas on President Obama, we look at each other and laugh.  During this presidential election, I will prepare a list of diversions and buy my Obama shirt solely for my visit home, as I’m sure he will have at the ready every possible segway to Obama.  Because I mean, mashed potatoes, you automatically think of Obama’s spending, right?