The post in which I undoubtedly piss some people off and lose a few friends

What I am royally pissed off about today is people’s “political” beliefs that because a person is transgender, gay, or lesbian, it automatically means they are a pedophile. I don’t know what type of Kool-Aid they are drinking but I wouldn’t serve it to the owner of the dog somewhere south of my house who barks all day, every day, non-stop, and sometimes into the night.

In my life, I have known and counted as my friends, non-heterosexual, non-birth-gender-dressing people. I have found them to be funny, smart, normal people in every way. None of them ever expressed a sexual interest in children or me, regardless of what the fear-mongering websites throw out as ‘statistics.” On the other hand, I have known supposedly normal hetero-sexual people who made lewd and suggestive comments about wives, girlfriends, husbands, wives, or children of the same or different gender. If your state has such a website, just look at the list of sexual predators on your area. I would daresay that the majority are married men and women, or if not married, consider themselves non-transgender, and non-homosexual. That being the case, and using the unfounded and untrue reasoning that transgender, gays, and lesbians are pedophiles strictly because of their orientation, it therefore stands to reason that any person with any sexual orientation whatsoever must be a pedophile. Lock us all up and list us all as sexual predators. Ridiculous, you say? How is it any more rididulous to say that, than to say he’s gay so he must get off on little boys, she’s lesbian and prefers little girls, or that person is transgender and preys on adults and children who dress like them?

Yes, I have been in the woman’s restroom while the person in the next stall, wearing expensive heels, peed standing up and facing the toilet. More than once. When finished, that person washed his/her hands, carefully reapplied lipstick and checked the hairdo. I might have been surprised, but not once was I harassed or made to feel uncomfortable by that person….any uncomfortable feeling came from my own fears and prejudices, and to be honest, I am far, far more concerned with people using the restroom and then exiting without washing their hands. Yes, there are going to be predators who take advantage of the situation, but guess what….they’ve been doing it for years and years.

The family restroom has been a growing trend for a few years now, and how I wish they had them when I was raising my son. I never got a second look when taking my three year old into the ladies room, but boy, the looks women gave men taking their three year old daughters into the men’s room, although because of the openness of urinals, I can somewhat understand that. Still, what is an opposite sex parent to do when a family restroom is not available? As a rule, public restrooms are busy places and more often than not, you wait in line to get a vacated stall. Can’t see much assault and perversion happening among that many people.

Overall, I don’t get it, I don’t understand it, and I am tired of people quoting Bible phrases to me in their defense. I happen to know enough Bible (and read it daily as guidance for my own life) to realize that you can justify anything with a Bible verse. If you want me to go there, according to the Bible, when my husband’s brother passed two years ago, my husband was honor and duty bound to take Bob’s wife as his own, so don’t try quoting chapter and verse to me, because I can come back with chapter and verse to refute you. For once, why don’t we try accepting people as people? Not as white, black, red, or yellow; not as skinny or fat; not as believing in God, Buddah, or no higher power; not as men or women; not as rich or poor, but instead, as people who underneath our skin have the same skeletal makeup. There will always be aberrations, and let’s strive to treat them as such, and not lump an entire class of people together. That’s what’s not fair.

Friends

We all have acquaintances we have amassed during our walk through life. People we nod to and engage in a brief conversation when thrown together at the same place at the same time. We tolerate some, genuinely like others, and a few, if we are lucky, become part of a deeply bonded friendship. The older I get, the more I value those wonderful people I call friends.

My first one came in kindergarten. God help me, but I cannot remember her name, even while staring at a photograph my mother took, but I do remember the bond we shared: finger painting was cool, jacks were hard, Miss Muncil, our teacher was like the best grandma, and Charles P. was a pest. She taught me that common interests were fun.

In 4^th grade, I remember a girl named Helen who was badly scarred from severe burns. She cried when I held hands with her because no one else wanted to touch her. She taught me that a kind word or deed can do so much to help heal a heart. I only remember her in 5^th grade…I don’t recall her before or after and assume she moved. I often wondered if kids got kinder or more cruel as she got older. Did she find a wonderful man who could see past her outer shell and have compassionate children who grew up knowing that different is not to be shunned? Do others value her now, the same way I did in 1960 or 1961? I hope and pray she has had a fabulous life.

From 4^th though 6^th grades, I had a friend named Norine who was the only Jewish child in a sea of Catholics, Episcopalians, Baptists, Presbyterians, and Methodists. For her 11^th or 12^th birthday, her mom invited me to come to dinner or lunch for Norine’s birthday (I was the only guest) and served her best Kosher spaghetti. From Norine, I learned that people of other “unusual” religions were no different from me, even if their customs were the opposite of mine. Writing this prompted me to try and find her, and I think I found her on Facebook and shot her a message. Grinning like crazy here. I have been lucky enough to re-connect with three other elementary school friends and have a photo of the three of us taken almost 3 years ago. We laughed and talked and looked at old photos that night. What a fun time it was.

Junior high school (grades, 7 thru 9) brought more friends, and also teenage trauma, as my family switched school districts halfway through the first year, and I was ‘forced’ to leave my friends behind. Fortunately, I made new ones, and still have a few of them. We moved again halfway thru my sophomore year of high school, and the find new friends cycle started anew. Not surprisingly, there were a few kids from my old elementary and junior high schools, and although some of us had not been close friends before, just seeing a familiar face made that teenage angst of being possibly not liked a little easier. Most of us kept up with each other right after graduation, but as the world turns so do our lives, and we mostly lost track of each other as we moved for college, work, married, had children, and our lives started revolving around our own little nuclear families. Neighbors, parents of our childrens’ friends, co-workers, and friends of our partners became our new friends, and because of the lessons we learned from our childhood friends, our circles became even wider.

Then at some point in life you receive that dreaded high school reunion invitation in the mail, and those danged teenage insecurities rear their ugly heads. My insecurities came with my 45^th reunion invitation a few years ago. Initially, I was excited and almost giddy. Newly retired, I jumped in and volunteered to help track down and make calls to classmates who had not responded. I was part of the crowd that melded unnoticed into the background…making those calls to kids who were way cooler than me, albeit 45 years ago, required an enormous amount of courage. Some of them didn’t remember me at all, but a surprising number did, and wanted to talk, even though we had exchanged all of a dozen words in three years of school. I started to form new old friendships. The reunion weekend arrived, and although I approached it with much trepidation (after all, I was a lot older and heavier than then), but quickly found my fears unfounded. My Facebook friends expanded, and I am so enormously elated to say that my true friends also multiplied.

We are now a couple years away from a 50^th reunion, but a number of us haven’t waited for it to get together again. We gals try to have lunch monthly, weather and proximity permitting. Last year a group of us got together for a motorcycle, classic car, and general “fun run” long weekend. Another is planned for this year, and as long as we are able, plan on making it an annual event. I adore these people. They bring me delight every day, and as we age, lose parents, spouses, siblings, become grand and great-grandparents, face illnesses, trials, and tribulations, we seem to be growing closer and more dear to each other.

So, my advice to you is take a chance and look up some friends from childhood. In this age of the Internet, it isn’t all that hard, and I can vouch for the richness of the reward when you connect anew and make an old acquaintance a new friend and make an old friendship even deeper. As we sang in Brownies, “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other, gold.” Here's to hearing from Norine.