Free Leaf

"Don't gain the world and lose your soul, wisdom is better than silver or gold..."

Location: Falls Church, Virginia, United States

I have a lot more questions than answers, but I just keep asking. I constantly want to leave, but somehow manage to stay. I am both perfectly happy and completely miserable because of it. I think I am misunderstood but that could just be a huge misunderstanding, either way I guess the best way to put it is, "I ain't often right, but I've never been wrong."


It Takes a Village

Before I get where I am going here is some insight into how I made it to the point of writing this. I would have to go back 20 years to tell the whole story but that will take too long so I will just start on Sunday. On Sunday, the White House held their annual Easter egg hunt, protesting at that event were Gay and Lesbian couples. That event caused quite the uproar on talk radio and the internet. I never joined the discussion but I did hear one person say that no matter how much a homosexual couple may love and care for a child they can never fully nurture a child, they actually extended that very thought to divorced families. And that is where I became an advocate for gay rights, now I don’t have any gay friends that I know of, nor do I know any gay parents but I am a child of divorce and if a child is lucky enough to be adopted by two mothers like my own I can promise you that they will be a stellar individual. So, while I can not speak for gay parents directly I can speak on the ability of one parent to nurture children without help from a parent of the opposite sex. I will not try to defend everything about the homosexual lifestyle nor do I feel I can make a judgment on all of the issues facing that community at this time, but I do not doubt that they can be just as good at parenting, and possibly better in some cases, than the heterosexual community.

With that out of the way and since this is supposed to be about me why don’t I give some major props to my mom and my well adjusted and lovely dysfunctional family? Saying I am a child of divorce is almost too nice of a term for my father, what he did was much closer to abandonment. My parents got divorced when I was 4, and my sisters were still babies. Since then I only remember seeing my dad less than a handful of times and only remember having conversations with him a few more. He rarely paid child support and he might have covered our health insurance for 2 out of the 20 some years he was responsible for it. And since he didn’t even see me grow up he refused to believe it was me who wrote the letter in which I told him to fuck off and stop wasting my time. To me the whole situation was ridiculous anyway, my father was never at a single event in my life, no sports or school plays, nothing, he wasn’t even invited to my Bar Mitzvah where I was very impressive in my opinion. So, I saw no reason to have an adult relationship with someone who has no responsibility for the person I have become. I can’t say what my life would have been like with him in it, divorced or not, but I can say that I feel fortunate for the life I have lived and the people who are in it.

The saying that it takes a village to raise a child was maybe never truer than in my case. Of course, the battle started at home and my mom was spectacular the entire time, from little league to graduation she always made it work. I could go on and on for days about the sacrifices she made to get three kids through high school and her second about to graduate from college. If I did it all on memory I could probably write one thing a day for years and that’s not counting my sisters thoughts on the matter. She really was and continues to be amazing and maybe I will start dedicating posts to her in the future but this isn’t just about her, its about all the people who have helped me become a mostly well adjusted person. You see, even though my mom was amazing she couldn’t do it alone. There were teachers and coaches and camp counselors and uncles and cousins and my Grandparents and friends. It was my uncle who taught me to how to drive when my mom and I started fighting; he also bought me my Bar Mitzvah suit. My Grandparents let me stay at their house during the summer and my Grandpa took me to baseball camp everyday then let me swim in their pool every afternoon while my Grandma made my meals. There were my mom’s cousins who always lent a hand when we needed it and helped me when I wanted to go to school in Israel. And my teacher there, Yossi Katz, who helped me realize the love I have for my people and my country. And even before all that there were camp counselors who allowed me to be a normal kid and coaches who pushed me to be better. And there were my little sisters whose accomplishments somehow mean more to me than my own. Who I tried not to be too overbearing with but sometimes was that over protective big brother. And it all comes back to one person, my mom, who made it possible for all of those people to make positive impressions on my life. So you see it does take a special person to be a parent, and that is not unique to any family structure.


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