"Love A Goat, For All I Care!"

As everyone knows, Vice President Biden let loose with another (seemingly) unsanctioned comment this past weekend on NBC's Sunday morning talk show,"Meet the Press," when he replied that he was "absolutely comfortable" with the thorny topic of same-sex marriages as well as supporting parity with rights accorded to those in "traditional" marriages.

Within minutes, the offices of both the President and Vice President went into hyperdrive in an attempt to walk back his off-the-cuff comment by releasing statements hoping to assuage various potentially untenable voting blocks.

In the two days since the Biden interview, Press Secretary Carney has been inundated with question after question from the press hoping to elicit salacious information for columns purporting potential rifts within the administration.

His steadfast reply, despite the single-minded stream of consciousness of the reporters, is "the President's stance on same-sex marriage is evolving."

This is one of the facets of politics that drives me bonkers.

Vice President Biden, in my opinion, may have answered the question honestly ~ as average citizen Biden might have done if asked. But during a crucial election year, no White House can afford having one of the President's minions going off the reservation by making rogue, unsanctioned comments. Once the wheels of a Presidential campaign are in full motion, every syllable and turn of phrase is vetted and tested by pollsters before any candidate or spokesperson utters a word. Modern Presidential candidates don't enjoy the luxury of being spontaneous or brutally honest with the end result being that their true beliefs are often intentionally blurred so as not to offend an essential voting demographic.

Rest assured that President Obama and former Governor Romney, like Mr. Biden, each has a definitive view of same-sex marriage; I suspect the public will not be privy to an airing of the victor's unvarnished opinion until after the election in November ~ unless the comments by Biden quickly followed by those of Secretary Duncan (Education) were intentionally fed to the media as part of an overall strategy by the Obama campaign.

Being neither the President nor a candidate running for office, I am free to offer my view on the subject.

When it comes to matters of privacy, my general credo is this:

When the day comes that the affairs of my house are completely in order; when I have no pressing problems or indebtedness; when there remains no single task which demands my attention, then and only then will I allow myself the luxury of even considering if I should involve myself in the private lives of others.

I have often told friends that when it comes to matters of the heart, my personal opinion is that a person can "love a goat for all I care!" There is "an edge of truth to my jest." It has never been nor will it ever be my prerogative to involve myself in the matter of whom others should or should not love; the choices people make for the sake of their personal happiness and in the name of love is not for anyone to judge.

Can I say I have never harbored concerns about an individual a friend might be dating. Yes. Have I always agreed with the ultimate choice a friend or family member has made in a life partner. Absolutely not! However, when push comes shove, it has never been left to me to determine who is best suited for whom when choosing a spouse.  Thank God.

As for this business of same-sex marriages, people are entitled to their fundamental disagreements and concerns. One might be justifiably opposed to same-sex marriage on the basis of a strongly held religious belief or even a personal sense of morality. Or, one might simply be homophobic, bigoted or wholly ignorant about the actual world that ~ like it or not ~ exists outside of every closed mind and door; even these individuals, sadly, have the right to their opinion. I will never hold someone's opinion against them so long as their views are expressed respectfully and intelligently without vitriol or malice.

At this writing, some thirty states have enacted laws that prohibit same-sex marriages. And the state of North Carolina, just moments ago, passed a statewide ballot initiative which has resulted in ratification of a State Constitutional Amendment to protect a ban already in place from being usurped by the judgement of a lower court in the future.

Despite these significant efforts as well as hundreds of newspaper articles and op-ed pieces I have read over the years, for the life of me I have yet, to my satisfaction, been given one sound explanation as to how a private decision between two adults of the same sex who decide to marry one another somehow adversely affects society.

As best I can tell, there hasn't been a demonstrable uptick in petty or violent crimes committed by these couples in states which have sanctioned the marriages. And unless I am grossly misinformed, malevolents like Richard Nixon, Bernie Madoff and Osama bin laden were never married to men.

I would honestly welcome reading a well-articulated, reasoned social justification for banning same-sex marriages (that doesn't invoke the tired arguments of old).

In the meantime, each of us has enough on our private plates to last a lifetime; tend to your home, your loved ones, your problems … or even your goat if that makes you happy.

Everyone else, in my opinion, should just mind their own business! 

Pilgrim's Progress(ion)

This is Peregrine White's cradle.

Surely, everyone ~ at some time ~  has wondered what finally came of lil' Pere's tiny woven cradle; it's whereabouts has certainly kept my mind racing well into the wee hours of many a night. That, and a little too much caffeine. 

But, on Sunday, May 6, 2012, the cradle will take second billing to thoughts of its former occupant when our cousin, LouAnn, is awarded her official passport as a newly minted member of the General Society of Mayflower Descendants.

Founded in 1897 by a group of descendants of the Pilgrims who sailed aboard the Mayflower in 1620, the Society's mission was to memorialize the establishment of Plymouth colony.  Any person who can accurately document direct lineage from a Mayflower passenger, following stringent approval by a Historian General, qualifies to become a member of the society.

We had all heard the story over a lifetime; we were somehow related to Peregrine White who, of three children born aboard the Mayflower, alone managed to survive the harsh ordeal of their pilgrimage.

But, talk to anyone and they are ALL related either to Peregrine or another of the Mayflower's 102 passengers.  I always lazily assumed the oral tradition might have been true but never saw a clear path that would have allowed anyone to actually prove it ~ as if I would have bothered; like most other members of the family, it was simply a quasi-factoid stored in the dusty recesses of my brain. 

And, let's face it, talk of buckle-shoed, funky-hat wearing Puritanical Pilgrim relatives from four centuries ago wouldn't have exactly made for great party conversation.

The family link with the Mayflower was destined to remain a mere rumor passed along from generation to generation until our intrepid cousin decided the storied tradition of the tale would not suffice. Whether she would ultimately succeed or fail, LouAnn decided to put the story to the test and began the tedious process of researching our family tree.

Stubborn. Dogged. Tenacious.

Three adjectives that barely describe the zeal with which LouAnn first linked one limb of the family tree to the American Revolution, earning her membership to the Daughters of the American Revolution, but eventually ~ and successfully ~ to the Mayflower and the male child born of William and Susanna White on November 20, 1620.

The first surviving child born to the Pilgrims of the Mayflower in The New World.

Typing those words finally has the effect of cementing the significance of proving the oral family history passed along over centuries is undeniably true. And while I would like to believe the link to an historic past somehow makes our family special, the reality is that tens of millions of other Americans can be successfully tied to our Pilgrim heritage as well.

Twelve generations have followed 9th Great-Grandfather Peregrin's birth in Provincetown Harbor aboard the historic ship.

When I reflect on the determination exemplified by LouAnn's life and years-long struggle to resolve the many questions of this family lore, I think it is safe to say that the grit and spirit of our Pilgrim ancestors is alive and well today.

Congratulations, LouAnn!

Dr. Marvin

At the very moment countless thousands cross busy intersections; as men vie for parking spaces; flight and dinner reservations are made; couples marry; families picnic; and, as children are born and elders die, a momentous event will unfold for our family which represents the capstone on years of hard work as well as a moment certain to inalterably affect a destiny. So, while the rest of the world goes about the business of their daily lives this Saturday, my family will be in Washington DC standing witness as a green velvet-trimmed hood is placed around our youngest brother's neck, a tassel is moved to the left facement of a motarboard, and an ancient oath recited, thus marking Blake's graduation from Medical School.

It gives me pause.

Can this grown man possibly have been the same baby who once brought renewed life to our aging parents; the ever-smiling boy in footed pajamas, pacifier askance, who led a ritual family march to bed at night; the little boy who worshiped his “Dimmy” and “Dott;” the little boy in a red apron who ran to greet Dad after school; the disengaged “Rudy Kazooty" of T-ball games; the young boy who sat on the shoulders of my medical school classmates; as well as the all-too-young man who eventually eulogized his own father?

Is it really possible?

Thousands of memories are swirling through my head; it is admittedly difficult to grasp the reality that Blake’s life to this point has passed by with the proverbial “blink of an eye.”

When Blake graduated from high school in 2001, I gifted him a copy of the "blessedly brief graduation speech" written by Dr. Seuss, "Oh, The Places You'll Go." As I struggled to come up with words which could adequately speak to my feelings now as he prepares to graduate from Medical School, I couldn't help but reflect on the same little book. After re-reading the inimitable text, I decided it remains a perfect sendoff as he moves forward with the "Great Balancing Act" that will be his life; "Oh, The Places You'll Go" succeeds where I would have surely failed, imparting upon Blake a "lifetime of wisdom."

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
You’re on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.

You’ll look up and down streets. Look’em over with care.
About some you will say, “I don’t choose to go there.”
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
you’re too smart to go down a not-so-good street.

And you may not find any
you’ll want to go down.
In that case, of course,
you’ll head straight out of town.

It’s opener there in the wide open air.

Out there things can happen
and frequently do
to people as brainy
and footsy as you.

And when things start to happen,
don’t worry. Don’t stew.
Just go right along.
You’ll start happening too.

OH! THE PLACES YOU'LL GO!

You’ll be on your way up!
You’ll be seeing great sights!
You’ll join the high fliers
who soar to high heights.

You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed.
You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead.
Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best.
Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

     Except when you don’t.
     Because, sometimes, you won’t.

     I’m sorry to say so
     but, sadly, it’s true
     that Bang-ups and Hang-ups
     can happen to you.

     You can get all hung up
     in a prickle-ly perch.
     And your gang will fly on.
     You’ll be left in a Lurch.

     You’ll come down from the Lurch
     with an unpleasant bump.
     And the chances are, then,
     that you’ll be in a Slump.

     And when you’re in a Slump,
     you’re not in for much fun.
     Un-slumping yourself
     is not easily done.

     You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.
     Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked.
     A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!
     Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?
     How much can you lose? How much can you win?

     And IF you go in, should you turn left or right …
     or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?
     Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
     Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find,
     for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

     You can get so confused
     that you’ll start in to race
     down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
     and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
     headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
        The Waiting Place…
          ... for people just waiting.
          Waiting for a train to go
          or a bus to come, or a plane to go
          or the mail to come, or the rain to go
          or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
          or waiting around for a Yes or No
          or waiting for their hair to grow.
          Everyone is just waiting.

          Waiting for the fish to bite
          or waiting for wind to fly a kite
          or waiting around for Friday night
          or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
          or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
          or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
          or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
          Everyone is just waiting.

NO!
That’s not for you!

Somehow you’ll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You’ll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.

With banner flip-flapping,
once more you’ll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky.
Ready because you’re that kind of a guy!

Oh, the places you’ll go! There is fun to be done!
There are points to be scored. There are games to be won.
And the magical things you can do with that ball
will make you the winning-est winner of all.
Fame! You’ll be famous as famous can be,
with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.

     Except when they don’t.
     Because, sometimes, they won’t.

     I’m afraid that some times
     you’ll play lonely games too.
     Games you can’t win
     ‘cause you’ll play against you.

     All Alone!
     Whether you like it or not,
     Alone will be something
     you’ll be quite a lot.

     And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance
     you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.
     There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
     that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.

But on you will go
though the weather be foul.
On you will go
though your enemies prowl.
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl.
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore
and your sneakers may leak.

On and on you will hike.
And I know you’ll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.

You’ll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You’ll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)

KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!

So…
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea,
you’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So…get on your way!

I hope no one will accuse me of being presumptuous when assuring you of how proud Dad would have been to be present in the DAR Constitution Hall as you take that walk across the stage to accept your diploma this Saturday afternoon, Blake.

Both he and your Mother would surely

Want you to always follow your most noble instincts,
Want you to always be a force for right and good,
Want you to defend the weak as they taught you,
Want you to always be brave,
Want you to know that whatever you do, or wherever you go,
     you walk with their blessing and love,
Want to you keep your faith in God, your humility and sense of humor,
Want you to allow nothing to deter you
     from getting what you want from this life,
Want you to know that while they may have had regrets or sadness in their lives,

     they have always been grateful to have you as their son.

Congratulations, Blake.

WhirlyBall; Saturday, December 26, 2009

November Looms

Emma: I want you to tell them it ain't so tragic! People do get better!
Patsy: What do you want me to do?
Emma: Tell them it's OK to talk about the cancer!

from the book, "Terms of Endearment"

During the phone call, a family member was struck by the fact I had not informed everyone. She wanted to know how my complete circle of friends and acquaintances could not be told.

I had my reasons.

I was also free to change my mind.

For the past couple of years I have been under treatment for cancer.

It all began as a nagging point of tenderness in my chest ~ just where my sternum meets with one of my ribs. With one finger, I could isolate the pain and "rub" it away. It went on this way for another couple of months or more ~ no better and no worse. It was tolerable.

Until the night I was awakened by a breath-robbing pain elicited by simply turning onto my side. This was definitely not normal by any stretch. I chose to ignore it anyway.

It did not take long, however, for me to realize I could no longer fool myself into believing the pain might be inconsequential.

I enjoyed a momentary reprieve, however, after talking with some of my colleagues, all of whom were certain the totality of my symptoms pointed to a nerve root compression injury from working out. "We are tired of watching you rub your chest ~ go order a damned MRI and get the problem fixed."

It was not a nerve root compression injury.

The MRI isolated a golf ball-sized mass encroaching on the neurovascular bundle under one of my ribs.

Following an extensive evaluation, a diagnosis was returned: In oncology-speak, the mass represented a high-grade, 3BE Anaplastic Large Cell Lymphoma.

This past March I drove to the cancer center to undergo yet another round of RCHOP21; my second complete course of chemotherapy (due to failure of initial treatment or relapse). As I sat in the waiting room of the lab, I heard my name being called. The woman shouting my name was clearly not one of the lab technicians; she was either a physician or a nurse.

She came forward and introduced herself to me, asked a few probing questions and then left the room. She repeated this process another two or three times before finally explaining that, "the head of the BMT Department would like to speak with (me)." Huh?

I was then ushered into a nearby conference room where a physician (I had never met) was seated at a table reviewing my treatment records. What?

Without wasting a breath, the stranger proceeded to inform me that, as a specialist, he was not confident I would be able to, "see (my) way to a cure without a transplant."

I felt dizzy. "What kind of transplant?" (A stupid question but I was in shock.)

Seeming to appreciate my confused state, the physician hesitated and then smiled as he replied, "A bone marrow transplant, Dr. Marvin."

I am currently biding my time as I await another diagnostic biopsy this November. My transplant future will depend on the outcome of this test.

So, going back to my relative's initial concern. Why haven't I told everyone about the cancer?

Simply put: I enjoy normal conversations with family and friends.

"How are you doing?"

Sure, it is a simple question. But this most common of questions takes on considerable heft when tainted with the knowledge of someone's treatment for cancer. You soon realize every answer is incomplete until you have again addressed the "cancer."

Please don't misunderstand. I appreciate the care, concern, and compassion extended by all my family, friends, and strangers alike. The prayer groups and support I have enjoyed have been a source of great comfort.

After a period of time, however, this patient wanted to be asked that simple question from someone ~ anyone ~ who wasn't aware of my medical condition. I craved normal conversations with people who were only interested in knowing, "what kind of great stuff has been going on in your life?"

This begs another logical question: If this is truly how you feel, why write about the cancer now?

As much as I would like to believe I am living a normal life, I am not. At least for the time being.

I am tired of keeping separate the mental lists of those, "who know," from those, "who don't know."

I am tired of circumventing questions and responding with "half-answers."

And, I am tired of hurting those who, once they have discovered my situation, are slighted by my apparent inability to trust them with the information.

This IS my life. For better or for worse.

I feel great at the moment. I am not now nor have I ever sought anyone's sympathy. I hope anyone who may feel slighted would accept my apology. Your understanding and support wouldn't hurt, either.

In a few months, I will know what my future holds; I remain an eternal optimist.

And, I honestly don't mind if family and friends continue to feel compelled to ask about the "cancer." But do me a favor ~ balance those concerns by also asking,

"What kind of craziness have you been up to lately?"