Notes After a Summer Storm

I love weather.  Mention anything meteorological, and I'm all ears, eyes, and curious.  Maybe it's because I developed an interest decades ago when my dad and I were taking flying lessons.Whatever, the reason, I can't help but feel wonder and awe when observing the weather; friendly or foul, majestic or menacing.

This weekend, we had, what in my experience was, a typical summer severe thunderstorm:  Lots of rain, some flash flooding, thunder and lightening that lit up the sky.  Ahh, such beauty, sound, power, energy, and wonder!  And of course, rain, since we're in a drought this season.

Some of the post-storm reactions from my neighbors surprised me:  "That was insane!" "This storm was terrifying, OMG!" "Yikes!" "I could live without another one of those!" I scratched my kerfluffled head over the drama. "Hmph, Just another summer day in Texas."

Except we weren't in Texas; and powerful thunderstorms that we took for granted in Texas are not the norm in Massachusetts.  They are a treat, for some.  And for others, they are a nightmare. Much like my neighbors in Houston, who stay home when the city shuts down with just a coating of snow, many of my Massachusetts neighbors were  reacting to something that was not the norm for them, something they were not prepared for, something different enough to be out of their comfort zone.

However, some of my neighbors, like me, were embracing the storm like giggly kids throwing Mentos into a bottle of Coke :  "Wow! That was awesome!"  "Spectacular!" "I could listen and watch this all night!"  "Make it do it again!"

Heh.

All of this reminds me of how we deal with each other, and I mean specifically people who are not, on the surface at least, like us, who look differently, act differently, think differently.  Some of us find that difference, the Other, to be curious, beautiful, interesting, something to ponder or learn about.  And some of us find that difference in the Other to be scary, something to avoid, something to demonize or ascribe to a darker force, to even consider it unnatural, abnormal.

When we open our mind to observing and respecting the thunderstorm, we learn how to live with it, appreciate it's beauty and power.  We learn to not stand under a tree in a lightening storm or to not drive quickly through flood waters.  The thunderstorm, we learn, is not inherently good or evil; it's a series and alignments of pressures, precipitation, and events that lead to a storm.  When we learn about the thunderstorm, it ceases to be the Other, and it's natural part of all life makes sense.

Observe. Respect. Learn.  Shouldn't we be using this in dealing with each other?

I Am Not A Flag

Recent events like the Orlando nightclub tragedy  sure have stirred up a small kerfluffle in the New England town where I live, specifically about rainbow flags, and whether failure to fly one in the town square signifies discrimination.

*Sigh*

Really?

Now, I've spent a good portion of my life fighting for and championing equal rights for LGTBQ people.  The rainbow flag that has come to symbolize the struggles *and successes*  is one that is iconic to the general LGTBQ community is one I hold dear.  We moved to Massachusetts to be in a safer, more accepting environment, and our neighbors and fellow townsfolk are just amazing people. Human people, I should add.  Gloriously imperfect, but accepting people willing to give you a chance, help you when you need help and accept you into the community.

So fighting over whether or not to raise a rainbow flag seems like an unnecessary and misplaced distraction in light of the unity we all seek with each other during these historic, challenging times.

To put it another way,

I am not a flag.

I am your neighbor.

I shovel snow.
I grow tomatoes in my garden.
I watch your house for safety,
And you watch mine.
We share the neighborhood,
The laughter of the children,
The alarms of distress,
The roads,
The garbage collection,
The first responders,
The schools,
The town square. 

I am not a flag.

I am a co-worker. 
We share the donuts.
We come to work,
Joke about hours,
Work with each other,
Get things done, so that
We can support our families,
Buy groceries,
Pay our taxes,
Live better lives.

I am not a flag.

I am a human being.
I love. 
I love the only way I know how.
And I marry,
Sharing fully my commitment
With the love of my life.

I am not a flag.
I am not a rainbow.

I am one of you.