Dreams and landslides.


I’ve got my playlist set to Fleetwood Mac.
Constant visions of dreams and landslides.
And my heart is breaking from the pack.
And instead of tears I’m begging for lies.

I’m told mainly,
That players only love you when they’re playing.
And I’m afraid of changing.
But even children get tired of growing.

I’m surprised by how long I’ve listened.
And I’m terrified, that I can’t rise above.
Getting bolder sitting in this prison.
I just might borrow some love.

Because I’m clueless without you.
Your guidance has been replaced.
And I discovered that you are only you.
And life’s making plans to substitute your place.

So I find myself some borrowed love.
If only for a little while.
Until I can rise above.
I’ve been building my life around you for over a mile.

And I’m questioning when it will all add up.
But it won’t.
And this pain is real, following you around like a little pup.
I’ve got so much.
So much hope.

And I can’t just climb a mountain and turn around.
But if Stevie can.
Maybe I can, too.
That sounds like too good of a plan.

Goodbye dreams and landslides.
I’ll be missing you.


Sunshine everyday.

A letter sits on a shelf.
Unread for reasons I’m still trying to figure out.
In all my darkest hours, I never wanted anything more.
Than the truth dangling from your lips.

A song lives in the keys of a piano.
Unsympathetic to all the people who crave to hear it.
Of all the melodies in the world, I listen to my heart.
Longer than usual, if only we weren’t so far apart.

It’s so easy to say I believe in you.
And even harder to believe in me.
Forgive me for my doubts.
I’m clouded from the inside out.
It can’t be sunshine everyday.
No it can’t be sunshine everyday.

And the pain comes down.
Like a bullet from their gun.
And you can’t see the face, of the person who starts to run.
But it’s plain to see, it’s all done.

I’m sorry that I began to run.
But it can’t be sunshine everyday.

A farewell to my great grandma.

In the chaos of the morning, trying to warm up my car, and bracing the burning cold…I got to Midas and spoke with a mechanic about getting an oil change. And in the process I found out something is wrong with my radiator. And numerous other little things here and there. I’m at Midas trying to wrap my brain around the costs and benefits of spending my entire paycheck on my repairs. And then I remember, I need to call my grandmother back. She had called me and sent me a text asking me to call when I could. So now, would be a perfect time. I was stressed and needed to hear an ecouraging voice.

I tell her about all my problems. But they all sound so insignificant now as I repeat them over and over in my head.



“Grandma died last night.”

My great grandma. My grandma’s mother. My fathers grandma. She’s gone. She was 7 years shy of a Century old…and yet I couldn’t help but weep outside the Midas Shop where I’m sure every mechanic could hear me. I didn’t care. My great grandma Betty is no longer living.

My memory flashed back to the last week I spent with her over the last summer. We spent Memorial Day weekend breathing in the simple things of life. Watching the new baby geese creep up to steal some bread crumbs I happily through on their path. And she was so captivated by the little geese. They were adorable. She was so frail. But her mind was still as sharp as a knife. She was witty and smart. She was up to date with politics. And she loved her NBA boys and Tiger Woods. She smiled for as long as she could. And she really cared to hear about all her family and friends lives. She was genuinely interested.

And the stories. Oh the stories. Sometimes I would ask her to tell me about her past, and sometimes they would just come in waves and I’d listen until she was ready for a nap. She was so full of life and she lived many many years. If there was ever a time for somebody to go home, now was the time.

She once told me how she had to share one pair of shoes with her mother during the Great Depression. And how she rode her horse to school for miles every morning in the bitter cold. And she humbled me. She left this world wealthy but she didn’t start life that way. She built her life and she’s an inspiration to me. She earned everything she ever had. And she was such a dignified lady.

Whenever I entered her home she would always tell me to make myself at home by offering whatever was in the fridge. And tell me try some yummy treat she had available at the time. She loved her Pepsi. And I remember buying baby cans of Pepsi one time, and I put the baby can into a glass and it only filled it half way, and I thought that was plenty for her. But she said ” That’s it?” And we laughed and I used another can to fill the glass, and I should have just bought the regular cans.

I remember the time we were at a local bakery and we had sat down to eat out lunch, that she had payed for, and she placed her hand in mine to tell me that she was so proud of me. And as she slid her hand back into her lap, a 100 dollar bill laid folded in my hand and she raised her eyebrows, as if to tell me to put it somewhere safe, and that I earned it.

I’m going to miss her kisses on the lips, like grandmas do.

And he voice that spoke louder than the rest, because she was hard of hearing.

And the trips to nowhere in her car as we drove around town admiring yet again the simple things about life.

I will remember the time she came to my graduation. And she looked so beautiful and got all dressed up for it. Even though I’m sure it took her all morning. And she hated getting up early.

And the time we went to Montana, just because, and we stopped at a little diner outside of Helena, MT. next to this crappy motel we had to stay in…and there was this really cute waiter who took our order. And the second he left my great grandma said in her loud voice…”he’s so cute, what do you think Sam?” I absolutely died, because the waiter was no more than 10 steps away and I just laughed of embarrassment, and thought, only old grandmas can say those things and get away with it 😉

I remember when we were at KFC ordering out food through the drive thru and we got this awesome deal, that was really simple to me, and KFC as usual but to great grandma Betty, it was a royal treat, drink and all included. She was so surprised. And she ate that meal like it was her last. And we even ate it on nice plates with silver wear on a set table…because she was classy like that 😉

i remember how she knew I liked coffee so she offered me some of her Insta-Foldgers coffee that didnt really taste, but it was nice that she offered, instead of tell me not to drink it.

She would always tell me how good I looked, as if I was going to Prom. And on my 16th birthday she wrapped her beautiful handkerchiefs and purse she took to her Prom and gave them to me for my Prom. I used the purse. I didn’t really know what to do with the handkerchiefs. But I still have them. To remember her.

I remember we would talk about “the gays” and she agreed that they should be able to marry who they wanted. And I was so proud of her for taking time to discuss such controversial topics with me and listen to my sides. We could talk for hours.

I remember how much she loved my mother. And they stayed in touch even after my parents divorced. And her love for my mother projected onto me. And I was so thankful for that much love coming from such a tiny lady.

And I remember her last birthday when we went to her favorite restaurant, JohnnyCarinos, and we ordered, and she ended up liking my meal better than hers. And she got all dolled up to go out. But while putting her clothes on she asked if it was wrong that she put her garments over her bra, instead of under like the LDSchurch requests, and my grandma and I thought that God would understand with old age. She didn’t want to deal with the fuss.

And there was the time my grandma and I were getting great gma Betty up her ramp into her house and she fell out of her chair. And she scraped up her back. And if I hadn’t been there they would have had to call 911, so they were both thankful I could lift her and get her back into her chair. I was thankful I was there too. Because my great gma liked the comfort of her own home, and family and friends she knew. Not strangers who didn’t know her. We talked about her going to a nursing home, and she just wanted to stay home for as long as she could. And I understood.

And last summer she wanted to go to a family reunion back east, but couldn’t go alone, and weighed her options to go with her daughter, my grandma, but that wouldn’t be enough. And it was during a time I would be working. But she wanted me to go with her. And I felt bad. But I felt good at the same time. Because she wanted me there.

And there was a time when I didn’t know her, because our families were at odds, and she called my mom and asked to speak with me. I was like 9 or so. And I said Hello, and she said. I love you. And she wanted to tell me that she got the school pictures my mother sent her and that I looked so beautiful with my dark hair. And I looked so much like my Aunt Brittany. And that phone call didn’t mean much to me. I didn’t even know her. But now. Now I hold it dear to my heart. I know she loved me.

And she kept every photo she ever got of me. And she’d display the photos. And always let me into her room to look at all her pretty things.

And there was a time when she pretty much discovered a White a Cheddar Popcorn and so she had me specially go to the store to find it, and it took me forever, but I came back with a couple bags, and we opened it, and there was more air than popcorn, and I knew we were gonna need more, knowing her 😉 And whenever she wanted a snack she would tell me, “When you get my age, Sam, you can eat whatever you want.” And I laughed so hard. She loved her lays chips and Pepsi. 😉

And while so many others would normally want to go hang out with their friends and party, I was simply content in reading a book at grandma Betty’s house tucked under the silk blankets and afghans she made. And she even made me one for graduation. And she would send cards and always sign her name with the familiar fancy cursive I could barely read.

And one year at Christmas she gave all the grand kids and great grand kids cards that said, “this year we will give our money and toys to all the girls and boys who don’t have anything” and while I noticed some grand kids a little disappointed, or confused with her message…I thanked her. Once again, making me humble.

And in any card she gave out for special occasions I would find a few $2 bills and I always got super excited because I thought they were so cool. And I could always count on it being there.

And I loved the way she talked about her late husband, Clark, who she adored. And she had his wood carvings displayed all over her house, and I could always feel him there when she would speak so beautifully of him. She helped me know him more.

She was so beautiful, and kind, and generous, and sincere, and I loved every minute we spent together. I love you great grandma Betty. Finally you can rest tonight.

Raising My Rainbow: A letter to the author.

I was so fortunate to find a copy of Lori Duron’s nonfiction book: Raising My Rainbow: Adventures in Raising a Fabulous, Gender Creative Son and I couldn’t put it down. I was so overwhelmed by how sincere and real her life was that I wrote her a letter. I hope she writes me back, but in the meantime I thought I’d blog my letter. And quite possibly get you to pick up a copy of this book ASAP, because it’s amazing. And it WILL change your life. Click image below to go to her website and blog to learn more!Image Continue reading “Raising My Rainbow: A letter to the author.”

Songs called He.


My fears are safe here.
I’ll wake with a different view.
After this last tear.
I’ll run so far to forget about you.

This town isn’t mine.
But I’ve spread a million lies.
It’s about time I bet on a worthless dime.
Take a chance on meaningless highs.

When the world is begging for a light.
I’ve stumbled upon the shadows of the night.
And this is the last time I’ll sip your cup of poison.
Waking up to every last demon.

I’m surrounded by the strength you took from me,
Begging on my knees for a second chance to do it right.
And the stars are faulted between Lyra and Hercules.
Dancing across the Universe, hitching a ride through the night.

I heard you made it home.
But as far as I can tell, you’re long gone.
And that’s fine by me,
When I’ve been signing autographs over songs called ‘He’.

Adios mi amor.
Love doesn’t come ’round here.
Just empty hearts and songs about missed opportunities.
Where the battle ends, but the war still holds the keys.

Party Person.


Okay. So I consider myself an open minded person. So on my Facebook page I’ve liked the pages of pretty much any and all parties that are established in the United States. So there’s the Democrats and Republicans. And Independents and Libertarians. I guess you could call me a ‘Party Person’ haha. Anyway. I really enjoy seeing the random posts, achievements of each parties, what they believe in and all the hilarious and not so hilarious meme’s they post.  But I like to keep updated so I like all the pages to stay informed.

Basically, I get far more annoyed with the conservative posts than I do with the liberals, because…yes, I’m a liberal. And I’m most likely going to agree with the liberal posts. But today was different.

I was soaking up all the Republican posts. But the screen shot above shows exactly why I was ecstatic with the Republican Facebook page today. Points for Republicans! Yay! haha.

I really enjoyed reading what people had to say. I’m assuming most who commented are conservatives. But that doesn’t mean they are bigots who hate gays. And I hate that assumption. I dislike that society accepts the idea that certain parties are associated to certain stereotypes. Sure. Due to politicians who claim one party or the other, and are for or against something, that somehow automatically makes the entire party associated with that belief.

And that’s not always true. And it doesn’t have to be. And even though these comments were simple, they make me smile and remind me that this world isn’t as cruel as people like to make it out to be.

I especially like what the Republican page responded with. Very clever indeed.

Two dads is better than none.


Can we all please take a step back and realize that the definition of “family” no longer fits the perfect Dad, Mom, Brother, Sister, Dog, Cat model anymore? I mean, did it really ever?

Using the argument that a child needs a mom AND a dad or vise versa is getting old to say the least.

Yes. Biologically it takes a penis and a vagina to create a child.

But I think that we can all agree that it takes much more than that to build a FAMILY.

It takes shelter, and food, and clothes…

But above all. It takes unconditional LOVE.

Coming from my perspective and insider on having a gay parent, I think I’m a little more than qualified to state that I was raised by a single parent and I turned out just fine. Or I’d like to believe I did. I mean, the research that is being thrown around about kids who aren’t raised by a MOTHER and a FATHER become more troubled than not is just a load of crap. For the most part.

I was far more stable after my mother died. Being tossed around every other weekend back and forth to my parents did more damage to me than staying in one home with one parent. I’d rather argue that divorce is worse than anything else out there when it comes to the stability of a child.

Stability. That’s all I needed. And that’s what I got with my dad. I may have viewed him as a single parent, simply because he couldn’t marry his boyfriend – but he wasn’t single. He had the help of many. He had the help from his boyfriend. From his siblings. From his mother. You name it. The support of others around him helped raise me. We weren’t alone. I no longer had the influence from my mother any longer. It was out of our control after she died. But we made the best of our situation. And my father raised me. I don’t remember my childhood with my mother as vividly as I remember the lessons my father taught me. So I owe it mainly to my father for raising me and teaching me things about life.

Like many families in this world, they aren’t the cookie cutter kinds. Mothers leave their new babies in dumpsters. Teenagers have babies themselves and give them up for adoption. Husbands beat their wives and molest their children.

THAT’S the problem.

It can take seconds for a girl to get pregnant and yet many take that job for granted.

But it takes months, even years for couples to adopt. Couples who have thought long and hard about having a child. Couples who plan to have a child unlike so many woman who have a one night stand and the condom broke. So that’s where adoption comes it. But why make it so complicated? So many couples, and sometimes even singles people want children. And this includes gay couples. And they are prepared. And ready to have children. So what is the big freaking deal? If the best interest is for the child, than why ever deny them a happy, healthy, loving home? Whether that includes a grandmother ready to step up to the plate, or an uncle and aunt, or two men, or two women?

That child will be loved. Because I highly doubt somebody would spend thousands of dollars and invest so much time in adopting a child if their intentions weren’t anything but good.

So for those of you who believe that gay couples are flawed and aren’t fit to be parents or can’t provide everything a child needs, than think again. They aren’t going to be perfect. But  they have to go through hell to even get qualified. Same goes for straight couples. It’s a battle. So I applaud all the people who adopt or attempt to do so. That takes a big heart and a ton of patience.

There are plenty of straight couples who provide a happy, healthy and loving home. And that’s wonderful. But not everyone is as fortunate to be raised by their biological mother and father.

But every couple, or person raising a child is going to have their ups and downs. Especially for a brand new parent. They are going to find the best ways to do certain things for their child. Because that’s what people do when they take on such a big responsibility. Or at least that’s what we’d like to see.

And I’m not one who believes it has to be ONE way or the highway. I believe that a family is what you make it to be. It’s a mom. Or it’s a dad. Or it’s both. Or it’s daddy 1 and daddy 2. Or mommy 1 and mommy 2. Or it’s grandma and grandpa. Or it’s uncle and aunt. Or it’s brother or sister.

So just because you were raised by your awesome mother and father. Doesn’t mean you should deny any other definition of a family for others.

My father had to step up to both roles at times. He taught me about sex, drugs and alcohol. He taught me about the menstrual cycle. He taught me about hygiene. He taught me about self respect. He talked to me about boys. He taught me about how to change the oil. How to change a tire. How to build a fence. How to serve others. How to respect others. How to love unconditionally.

So no. I wouldn’t trade my life for anything. I don’t ever wish my life went differently. Sure. Sometimes I think about what it would be like to have a mother physically with me. But then I wouldn’t have the outstanding gay father that I do have.

And I think that children grow up to be thankful for what they do have. Eventually we all see the bigger picture and are truly thankful for the love and support we have in our lives. I don’t think we are going to care one way or the other if that support comes from MOM & DAD or if it comes from MOM & MOM/ DAD & DAD etc.

Thanks for hearing me out.