R&R, Part 1: Family Bonding aboard the Carnival Triumph

One benefit of Foreign Service life is that, depending on where you live, you may be entitled to a complimentary R&R (Rest & Recuperation) plane ticket for you and any Eligible Family Members that have accompanied you to post. It’s unpaid time for which you must use your personally accrued vacation allowance, but the plane ticket is free. And coming out of Guadalajara, that’s a sweet deal in and of itself.

When we started planning home leave several months ago, we found ourselves facing a dilemma: Should we go our separate ways to visit our individual families, whom we have not seen in over a year (planning began prior to mom's little medical scare), or just blow them off entirely and take a fun trip together?

We ultimately decided to do both, and planned a two-week vacation that would find us spending a week with my family and a second week adventuring by ourselves. We decided to save TJ’s family for Home Leave, the mandatory one month leave of absence that immediately follows our departure from Guadalajara in late 2012.

For the family portion of the trip, it was absolutely essential that we come up with a solution that allowed us to spend quality time with my parents without having to be in Texas. No offense to my many Texas friends. It's just not my bag, baby.

Having spoken to dad about our cruise in November, it had become clear that he would love to partake in such an adventure one day. The sticking point was my mom, who has an irrational fear of most modes of transportation. This has unfortunately resulted in them not being able to visit us in DC or Guadalajara, both of which are too far to consider driving to. Well, Mexico also has that whole drug violence thing going for it that they can't seem to get past.

Still, it was important for me that my parents visit us in Mexico in some capacity. I also wanted my dad to have his chance to go on a cruise. With these things in mind, TJ and I concocted a tiny white lie in which we told my parents that we had already booked a 5-day Western Caribbean cruise to Progreso and Cozumel for the four of us. After doing the requisite research to determine that we would, in fact, be unable to cancel our phony cruise, mom decided to simply bite her tongue and look forward to it...leaving us free to actually book the cruise.

And, man oh man, am I glad we did.

Mom, despite her fears, arrived in a Dramamine stupor ready to give it her best effort. Dad, the only one of the bunch that can't swim, and therefore the one that should have been afraid, was raring to go. Apparently, it was all he could talk about in the weeks leading up to departure. And TJ and I were just praying for no family squabbles.

They weren't up for excursions, and I can't say as I blame them. We didn't book any for our first cruise, either. And for folks that don't normally take big vacations, getting on a boat in one country and finding yourself in another a couple of days later is adventure enough.

TJ and I had planned a trip to Chichen Itza for our day in Progreso (next time...on Adventures by Aaron!), but the rest of the time was intended for simple, relaxing, family time.

Let me tell you, I am SO proud of my parents. They really let loose and stepped out of their comfort zones on this one.

They became good friends with the casino (not surprising, as they are prone to the occasional weekend gambling getaway), and mom even walked away $1300 richer. But that's not all they did.

They read by the pool. They people watched on deck. They went to the evening shows. They tried new foods, things they never thought they would like, and went back for seconds. They set foot on foreign soil and went shopping like it was no big deal (tip for you hodophobics out there ...it's really not a big deal). They enjoyed themselves so much they said they might even do it again some day.

But most important of all...they got a little tipsy (ok, plastered) and had a real, meaningful conversation with their son and his partner.

Now don't get me wrong, they've known TJ for years. And everyone has always managed to carry on polite conversation. But it felt forced. Perfunctory. And if we're being honest, it's possible that all parties were to blame, myself included.

But sitting there, drinking Greyhounds and Blue Margaritas, listening to a Korean man awkwardly croon out old country-western songs...it felt like everything finally clicked.

I was no longer the son that came out of the closet and turned their world upside down.

They were no longer the parents that I resented for letting the world turn upside down.

TJ was no longer the painful reminder that there would be no daughter-in-law.

We were just...family. I talked about how happy I was to finally be in a position to pay them back, in some small way, for all they had done for me over the years. TJ over-bragged about my contributions at work. Dad told me that he is proud of me. Mom even talked about wanting us to give them grandchildren.

Everyone boarded the boat on April 9th worried about one thing or another, but left the boat five days later looking forward to the next family vacation.

That just goes to show...we all need to get a little liquored up with family every now and again.

The Worst Thing About Getting Older...

...is that your parents do, too.

The end of January leading up through the end of February was just about the busiest, most worry filled month I believe I've ever had. Well, actually, I guess it all started in December. Or maybe it was years ago.

You see, my mother had been complaining of hip, leg, and lower back pain, pains she had attributed to a fall while walking on crutches during a recovery from a heel spur surgery that occurred so long ago that TJ and I were living in Florida at the time. Over the last couple of years, her primary care physician and chiropractor have bickered back and forth over the cause of the pain, with the PCP's vanity and/or ego preventing him from authorizing an MRI.

Meanwhile, fresh off of our cruise in November, TJ and I turned our attentions to the inevitable R&R that the State Department provides for its FSOs living in Mexico. Faced with the choice of taking another fun vacation or sucking it up and visiting family, we decided to kill two birds with one stone and invite my parents on a cruise. We were surprised when my parents, never ones for adventure, agreed to accompany us on a Western Caribbean voyage on the Carnival Triumph this April.

The only roadblock was my mother's crippling pain, which had reached the point that a trip to the mailbox and back was almost out of the question. My Aunt Sister (Sylvia, although I couldn't pronounce that as a toddler) was quick to inform her dear sister that if she couldn't enjoy a leisurely stroll through the produce aisle, she definitely couldn't board a cruise ship. Whether this was said out of familial concern or vacation jealousy, we'll never know, but it did give mom the courage to finally seek out a second opinion. She saw her new doctor on December 27th. An MRI was scheduled for the 29th.

On December 30th she received a call saying that she needed to come back in for a CT scan on January 2nd. This scan would ultimately confirm that my mom was suffering from a blocked aortic valve. She was told that a lifetime of smoking had finally caught up with her, and that the occlusion was the cause of her years of pain. After several appointments to determine whether or not she would need to have stents installed or undergo a more serious bypass, it was ultimately decided that the stents should suffice.

My parents were encouraged. Both quit smoking on the spot and even bought a treadmill, confident that my mom would be ready to exercise in no time.

I'll spare you the suspense of it all and assure you that the stents worked, neither parent has smoked since, and mom has started using her treadmill.

But I didn't know this at the time. What I did know was that this was the first medical emergency my family had faced since I graduated from Texas A&M in the spring of 2003 and fled the state. I also new that the last time I had seen my parents was November 2010, surpassing the once-a-year average we had attempted to maintain over the years. Sure, I would see them in April. And, sure, mom insisted that I shouldn't waste the money on such an expensive trip home. But would any of us be able to forgive me if something went wrong during the procedure and I wasn't there? Not likely.

I departed Guadalajara shortly after noon on February 7th and returned shortly after 8pm on February 14th, effectively missing TJ's birthday and Valentine's Day. But we had discussed it, and both knew it was the right thing to do. We're young (early 30's) and healthy (if not slightly-to-completely out of shape) and have plenty of birthdays and holidays left in us.

That first night, I watched my mom as she faked courage and optimism for the outcome of the following day's procedure, nervously arranging candy in a bowl as though it were a bouquet of flowers. I listened through paper-thin walls as she cried herself to sleep.

The following morning, the morning of the procedure, I sat in the back seat with my Aunt Sister while dad drove us to Austin and mom resumed her brave face from the evening before. We all went a little slack-jawed as the doctor, previously confident in an 80% chance of success, changed his tune to "I'll sure do my best." I sat in horror for the first hour of the procedure, having realized that after coming all this way, I had actually forgotten to kiss my mom and tell her that I love her right before the big event. Such a jerk.

Three hours in, and I knew she was going to be ok. I could just feel it. One hour later, and this was confirmed by the doctor. Four hours later, we were finally allowed to begin the hour-long drive home.

Throughout the remainder of the week, my mother spent her days recuperating on the couch. I would go on to have an enjoyable lunch with some high school friends and a wonderful day with an old friend from college (we'll get to that next time), but for the most part, I just lounged around the house.

I wasted time on my laptop and fiddled with my NOOK Tablet while my parents wasted time on their own laptops and channel surfed. I got to see American Idol for the first time in 2-3 years. I realized I'm not missing much. I got to see The Voice for the first time ever. I made TJ watch it on-line as soon as I got back to Guadalajara.

I took photos of the old house. I talked to my dad about all the cars he has built and/or raced over the years. I went to the Temple Mall, and left without entering a single store (Damn, I grew up in a small town). I spent one unexpected afternoon watching snow, having no chance of accumulating, drift hopelessly to the ground. I can't recall seeing snowfall in Texas since I was four years old.

I had hoped to bring with me delicious, healthy, low-carb recipes so that my parents could begin a new lifestyle, but all I managed was preparing one delicious meal during the seven days I spent at home.

Oh, who am I kidding? All of the meals were delicious. They just weren't healthy. But I've decided to cut my parents some slack. They've had a rough few months. They have faced their own mortality, they have quit smoking, and they have spent hours (and thousands of dollars) in hospitals.

Let them eat as they like for now. I know they'll do their best.

All told, I'm not sure my presence had much of an impact. But my mom is. She called me her good luck charm, and proudly reports that she is walking a mile each day on her treadmill. And as for that one healthy meal I managed to cook for them? She's recreated that once or twice, too.

I can't say that I walked away unscathed, either. TJ and I are eating healthier. I've lost almost 10lbs, and am running almost 5K every day in the park by our house. Maybe I'll complete that New Year's resolution after all.

A Tale of Two Monuments...and a Dawning Realization

I spent the first 23 years of my life living in Texas. At some point during my childhood, my parents took me on a trip to Houston so that I could see both The San Jacinto Monument and Battleship Texas. I was probably 10 years old or younger, and the memory has certainly faded over time.

Having lived in Northern Virginia for the last several months, I have had the opportunity to see The Washington Monument dozens of times. As it was the fresher of the two monuments in my mind's eye, I had grown comfortable in thinking that Washington was superior to San Jacinto.

That illusion was shattered today.

Standing at 570-feet tall and topped with a 34-foot tall star that represents the Lone Star Republic, The San Jacinto Monument dwarfs its 555-foot 5 1/8-inch tall counterpart in the District of Columbia.

Both monuments are accompanied by a reflecting pool. Here in Houston, the pool is 1,800 feet long by 200 feet wide, with a depth of 4-6 feet. Back in DC, the pool is 2,029 feet long by 167 feet wide, with a depth of 1.5-2.5 feet.

The intricate details found within the exterior architecture speak for themselves.

How is it possible that my memory was filled with visions of a San Jacinto Monument that was identical to the Washington Monument, but smaller and less maintained?

When I graduated from Texas A&M University in 2003, I vacated the state as fast as humanly possible. Despite having lived there my entire life, I desperately wanted...no, needed to leave. I hadn't travelled much as a child and felt stifled as a result. Having spent two summers studying in Europe and working in Orlando, I realized that there was an entire world out there to explore. And I set out to do just that.

Since then, I have only returned to Texas twice. The first time was to spend New Year's Eve 2008 with our friend Patrick here in Houston before making a quick stop to see my parents in Temple. The second time was for my uncle's funeral exactly one year later.

My parents have typically enjoyed visiting me in Orlando, and I have worked this to my advantage. If they come visit me once a year, that means I can selfishly use my vacation time to explore other parts of the world. That gravy train has ended for a variety of reasons, chief among them being that my parents are afraid of flying. My new globetrotting life is not conducive to them taking a road trip in their mobile home. Which they sold anyway. So that's strike one and two, all rolled into one. Strike three being that my father has recently sold his business, which he had been running since I was in Kindergarten. What kind of son would I be if I continued to expect them to visit me, when it will be much more practical for me to start returning the favor?

I saw my parents yesterday, but only for a few short hours. They made the 3+ hour drive from Temple to Houston to spend the day with me. I treated them to lunch at Wings 'n More, which I remembered fondly from my days at Texas A&M. Watching me pay the bill hurt my father's pride. In fact, he asked if I was trying to hurt his feelings.

My parents, above all else, have always been great providers. We weren't wealthy, but we were comfortable. My father was a successful small business owner, and I was an only child. As a result, I lived a childhood, and young adulthood, without want. I had more toys than you could shake a stick at. I was among the first to own a Nintendo...and its subsequent iterations. When I played high school football, they took out large advertisements in the game programs. College? Paid for. Cars? Ditto.

Financially speaking, I couldn't ask for better parents. But I grew up in Texas. Texas folk like to stay put. And, unless you're lucky, they don't tend to understand homosexuality. This lead to two distinct problems. 1) We didn't travel much, which only served to fuel my desire to explore the world, and 2) They didn't take to my being gay very well.

I wasn't disowned. I wasn't cut off financially. I wasn't loved any less. They just didn't understand. They still don't. It's possible they never will. We argue about it from time to time, and usually it's me that begins to fan the flames.

But you know what? When TJ and I applied for our mortgage, they helped with the down payment. They day we moved in, they sent "Welcome Home" flowers. Later, on a visit to Orlando, they gave us matching rocking chairs so we could sit on the porch together. Any time they see TJ, they show him just as much respect as they would if he were my wife. Sometimes I think they even like him more than they like me. Not a horrible problem to have, I suppose.

I guess that's all I can ask for. They aren't perfect. Neither am I. We fight like cats and dogs, but at the end of the day, I know that they love me. And I hope that they know that I love them in return. In my late teens/early twenties I had the misfortune of mistaking a potential lack of understanding on their part as justification for premature rebellion on mine. I wasn't a troubled youth. I didn't act out. I was just an Honors Student....with a bad attitude. And it certainly affected our relationship.

It must be hard for them. Whatever my reasons for doing so, I have effectively moved farther and farther away from them over the past seven years. Even though Guadalajara will be closer than either Orlando or DC, ease of travel is diminished. On some level, they must feel abandoned. On some level, I feel that I have abandoned them.

But life is meant to be lived, and it's up to the individual to determine how best to live that life.

My hope is that they realize that they raised a man that is happy with his life. Someone that has found another person to love. Someone that is able to explore the world just as he always wanted to do. Someone that is beginning to understand the importance of going home once in a while. Someone who now realizes that, whether it be your relationship with your parents or a faded memory of a local monument, maybe the past isn't as bleak as you remember it.

So, no, dad, I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings. I was simply trying to show how grateful I am for everything.