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.

Welcome to the Diaspora

A few weeks ago I announced the premature end of the 365 Challenge and hinted that there might be further changes in the near future. Honestly, I had planned on ending this blog entirely and starting a new one. The reason for this was because I knew well in advance that two important events would occur this very day. But then I realized, why bother? Why not just mold this blog to suit my purposes? And so, I am doing just that.

So what were these two important events?

Well, starting at 10AM, TJ and I began the two-hour ceremony required to complete our conversion to Judaism. It started with individual interviews with a Rabbinic Court (Beit Din) and ended with submersion in a Mikvah...which, to shed light, I suppose one could compare that last part to a Baptismal pool.

Then, at 2PM, we turned in our apartment keys and made the journey to Washington National Airport, where we currently await the boarding call for a flight that will take us to Houston. We will be there visiting a friend until Monday, at which point I will become a resident of Guadalajara in the Mexican state of Jalisco for the next two years. The journey that began in February is finally bearing fruit!

The morning was filled with an indescribable joy that was unfortunately overshadowed somewhat by the knowledge of what the afternoon held in store. We still had some packing to do. We had to arrange a key drop-off with a friend that has generously agreed to babysit our car until the drama with exportation is resolved. We had to make it to the airport, check our luggage, and clear security by 7PM.

It wasn’t until we were on the Metro that we realized our flight was leaving from the OTHER airport. In a week as stressful as this one has been, this bit of news actually worked out in our favor. Our flight was leaving from the CLOSER of the two airports. We couldn’t believe it. Had we known this earlier, we could have perhaps enjoyed the morning a little more, but at this point, TJ is just glad to be relaxing and playing “Plants vs Zombies” on our iPad, and I’m just grateful to have a Margarita coursing through my veins. And rushed or not, I won't even pretend that I didn't get a bit emotional this morning. I'm becoming such a softy in my old age.

As far as changes to this blog, I simply want to focus more on giving it a worldly feel. I know, I know...shouldn’t be a problem, since I’ll be living in other parts of the world. Good. Because I want my readers to get a real taste of what’s out there. I hope I was able to do that to some extent during my time in DC, but looking back I know there were not only more things that I could have shared with you, but also more things I could have shared with myself.

I wonder, have you heard of a diaspora? If not, it’s okay. I hadn’t until this past year.

A diaspora is the movement of a group of people, typically those sharing a national or ethnic identity, away from their homeland. This is something that TJ and I have been preparing ourselves for since February. We have had the opportunity to meet many other Foreign Service Officers and their families during our time in Virginia. Together, we have all established a diaspora that has ensured that we have friends around the world. People we can visit, and who can visit us in return. Peers that we may eventually be working and living with in other countries. People that understand all of the benefits and hassles of this lifestyle.

But there is another type of diaspora. The Diaspora (note the capitalization) refers to the exile of the Jewish people as well as Jews living outside of Israel. As new converts, we now fall into this category as well. As the partner of someone who makes his living moving to a new country every few years, it is my hope that we one day have a tour in Tel Aviv. How amazing would that be?

Until then, please sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. There will be photos. Stories. Local Humor. Recipes. Tales of Suspense!

But before we make that journey overseas, I promise to share some exciting photos of my trip to the Texas Renaissance Festival this coming weekend. Weather permitting.

Life is good, my friends.

Welcome to the DIASPORA.

The Gay Tax

I have already discussed our dilemma with shipping our vehicle to Mexico here and here. I THINK I have finally resolved the problem, but I am NOT happy about it. At all.

In order for the US Government to ship our car, it has to either be in TJ's name, or he has to be married to the person who owns it. What's a new Foreign Service family to do?!?

Plan A: Let's get married! What's that? Oh, right. We can't.

Plan B: Let's just refinance through the current lien holder, Wells Fargo. That way, we can both be on the title! Oh, wait. Wells Fargo won't provide a letter authorizing exportation of the vehicle. Because it isn't for my job. And because we aren't married.

Plan C: Let's refinance with USAA. We can add both of our names to the title, AND they will provide the appropriate documentation for export.

Plan C ended up working like a charm. The only catch was that I had to fly down to Orlando yesterday to fill out paperwork and write a check for about $150, which would cover change-of-title and renewal of vehicle registration. I could have done that here in Virginia, but Orlando is home and we have both agreed that we will take whatever steps necessary to maintain our Florida residency.

We had this timed out perfectly: Arrive in Orlando at 11am. Allow 3 hours for the DMV. Stop by old job to visit coworkers. Drive by the house to make sure the tenants hadn't destroyed the place yet. Return rental car by 5:00pm and hope security wasn't so crazy that I would miss my 6:50pm flight.

Everything went well...at first. Flight landed at 11am. By 11:55 I had not only rented a car but secured my place in line at the Tag Agency. The deed was done by 2:30, and I stopped by CuraScript to say hi to my peeps. We chatted for an hour or so and then I drove to the house.

As I sat parked on the street, rain blasting my windshield, I felt like I should be on "To Catch a Predator: Home Edition." Is it stalking if you own the property? Is it wrong to sit out on the street and scan for any changes to the landscape? Would it be wrong to knock on the door and ask for a tour? Would anyone freak out if they caught me in the backyard, checking on the citrus tree I had planted for TJ's birthday last year? These are questions I didn't get to ponder for very long, because the phone rang. I was needed at the Tag Agency. Something about taxes. If I didn't come today, the title that had been issued earlier would be cancelled. The time was 4:25. I needed to be at the airport in 35 minutes.

I barreled down the road, being far more reckless than I had any right to be given the heavy rain. But I'll be darned if I was going to miss my flight because Little Miss Thing at the DMV couldn't do her job right the first time around.

When I arrived I demanded two things: 1) To know what was going on, and 2) To have a power outlet to charge my phone (even in crisis mode, I want to make sure my access to Facebook, texting, and the Internet goes uninterrupted).

The issue required phone calls to Wells Fargo and USAA to resolve. The clerk hadn't realized that I was refinancing with a different bank, and she needed to find out the pay-off amount so that she could charge me sales tax. In the end, I had to pay $300 more than originally quoted.

Why, you ask?

Because I am gay.

When a married couple refinances a loan, they are not taxed.

When a gay couple refinances a loan, they are taxed. Because they are not married. Despite the fact that they would likely be quite HAPPY to get married, given the chance.

When a straight, single person refinances a loan, he/she is taxed.

So basically, what I learned yesterday was that, in the eyes of the Florida government, my 7-year relationship is worth no more than being single.

I didn't miss my flight, which made me happy. But as I sat in the terminal, waiting for my boarding call, I did begin to question why we are trying so hard to maintain our Florida residency.

Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear

John Stewart. Stephen Colbert. Two of the greatest comedians/political commentators of our generation. Together on the National Mall. Who wouldn't want to be there for that?

Well, okay, probably the entire staff over at Fox News. But besides them, everybody wanted to go.

The Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear is basically the combination of two separate events: John Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity and Stephen Colbert's March to Keep Fear Alive (Methinks Colbert got robbed when it came to naming the combined event).

I don't want to get all political and say anything that would give me a case of foot-in-mouth disease and/or anger my live-in diplomat, so I leave it to you to follow the links above and learn whatever your heart desires about this event and what it says about the current state of US Politics.

Was it a political rally? No. Well, maybe. But it might have just been comedy. Except that lots of people were holding political signs. Only they were comedic. I think?

All I can say is that, regardless of your political views, listening to these two is a good time. Though it helps if you're a liberal.

Anyway, we had been looking forward to this for a while, and I had wanted to arrive early in the day. I'm a planner. If I'm merely on time, then I'm late. So when TJ suggested that we leave at 11am for a rally scheduled to start at 12pm, I pretty much knew we were screwed. I give you Exhibit A.

Anyone that thought we were getting on that train, or any train following closely behind it, was bananas. Hah! See the gorilla? I'm funny. So anyway, with a modicum of difficulty (it's quite possible that I knocked a granny to the pavement), I flagged down a cab and off we went to DC.

Had I known these guys were going,

I would have just set up a carpool.

Which brings us to Exhibit B. This was our vantage point. A fair distance away from the video screen. And this photo is set at maximum zoom. We were a lot farther back than this image might have you believe. Beyond that? Another video screen. And beyond that screen, another. Beyond that, I think, one would have been able to see Stewart and Colbert in the flesh. Or maybe another screen.

We had managed to arrive on time, and stayed for about an hour and a half. But then I had to pee. And neither of us do so well in large crowds. So ultimately, not being able to hear or see much anyway, we opted for burgers at the Hard Rock Cafe instead. As it turns out, that's when the true magnitude of the day revealed itself to us.

The rally hadn't just taken over the Metro and the National Mall. It had spilled over into the entire District of Columbia. This photo was taken several blocks away from the rally, two hours before the rally ended. This herd isn't even walking toward the rally. They're just...there. Every street in the area looked like this, despite the Mall itself being filled to capacity.

I'm proud to have been witness to such a gathering. Whether they came for laughter, fear, or sanity, the point is that they showed up. And that's amazing. I've never seen so many people in one place, and doubt I will again. Crowd estimates were close to 220,000.

Which would explain that 45 minute wait for a table at the HRC.

Last Visitor of the Year

This past week we had the immense pleasure of hosting our friend and former roommate as he made his first ever trip to Washington, D.C.

In the eight months that we have lived in Falls Church, no fewer than eight visitors have graced us with their presence. While the itinerary for this trip wasn't much different than any of the others, the experience itself was completely different.

I'm the type that always feels the need to entertain company. I don't know how to relax when I'm on vacation, and I don't tolerate it in those that take a vacation to come visit me. I feel like I have completely failed in my duties as cruise director if we spend even one moment relaxing and watching television. And since nobody likes to go-go-go ALL the time, I often feel like I have failed my visitors, even when they have had a completely fabulous time.

This time was different, though, and I attribute that to the fact that we lived with Kris for almost 5 (or was it 6?) years...we've always spent a ton of time just relaxing on the couch and watching television. Don't get me wrong, I still went totally crazy and demanded that we go do stuff, but when nobody found that appealing, I found myself accepting the television as sufficient entertainment. And it was kinda nice. Because we have spent so much time just being around each other in the past, we were able to just be around each other now. When other people visit, we always feel the need to take them out to fun new restaurants and bars. With Kris, it was ok to just cook at home some nights. While we would otherwise feel obligated to visit museum after monument after museum, with Kris we were able to visit monument after shopping mall after museum after Target.

Don't get me wrong, I love it when my friends come to visit. I love showing people around. But your friends only see you the way that you want to portray yourself in public. With your friends, you always want to impress them. To show them how awesome life is. A roommate? A roommate sees you every which way. And a good roommate will stick around for 5 (or was it 6?) years despite that. And because you spend so much time with a roommate, you don't have to put on airs. You don't have to try so hard to impress him. You can just enjoy each other's company.

Problemas con mis Palabras (Problems with my Words)

The frustrating thing about learning a new language is that one quickly learn that there are not only multiple ways of saying the same thing, but also multiple meanings for different words. The funny thing about learning a new language is that one will, without fail, use a word or phrase incorrectly, often with embarrassing consequences.

At the Foreign Service Institute it is common for instructors to ask their students to bring a short news article to discuss with the class. The article can be in whatever language you like, but you are required to discuss the article in the language being studied. In Spanish, we call these "Pequeñas Noticias."

Because this can get a bit repetitive, I like to select my articles from a number of sources, ranging from the credible (The Washington Post) to the incredulous (The Onion). Yesterday I chose an article from The Orlando Sentinel that talked about the recent glee "scandal." Three of the show's young actors posed for racy photos in this month's issue of GQ. Because the magazine is written with an adult male audience in mind, and because the actors portray high school students on television, some of the more conservative circles have chosen to view the images as something akin to pedophilia.

I tried to make the point that, because the actors are in their twenties and only portray teenagers on television, the photos are not really all that inappropriate.

I have consulted a friend on this matter (Thanks, Shalinn!) and now understand that what I wanted to say was:

"Los actores en 'glee' interpretan a estudiantes de la escuela secundaria."

What I actually said was:

"Los actores en 'glee' tocan estudiantes de la escuela secundaria. "

Tocan is the 3rd person plural form of the verb Tocar, meaning "to play."

Or...when used in this way, "to touch."

Yes, while discussing an article about the pedophilic implication of these photographs, I actually stated, rather confidently I might add, that the cast of glee likes to touch children.

Needless to say, I turned fire engine red and much laughter was had at my expense.

DC Nerd Fest 2010

Due to an out-of-town visitor (more on that next time), I've had the chance to revisit some of the Smithsonian museums this week. And, since this is probably my last opportunity to do so prior to our move, I took the opportunity to snap some of the geekier photos that I've neglected up to this point.

Is it sad that the first two photos are from gift shop

displays and not actually from museum exhibits?

My fave...I didn't even

know they had this!

It's really not easy being green...

The Oscar the Grouch they used to

have is suspiciously absent...

R2-D2, where ARE you???