Steve Courtright's Bin
Non Multa Sed Multum
Saturday, December 14, 2024
Reasons A to Z
Thursday, November 21, 2024
Some Biology for Those Who Claim to Know that Sex is Binary
Thursday, November 14, 2024
A Letter to My Estranged Mother
Mom,
About a year ago you asked for something from me. Here is where I have landed today when I think about what you should hear.
I wish I could have found a way to be more empathetic about your divorce. That was hard. You were not the only one who was cast adrift.
I wish you would not have judged a person that I considered part of my family without knowing her and without knowing me. That went against my values.
I wish you would not have tried to secretly baptize my child. That was just wrong.
I wish you could have been part of my family. I tried and felt rejected by you.
I wish you would have been able to get to know me, my wife, my children, and the wonderful partners they have chosen to share in their lives and start their own families with. I was not heard or seen much of my early life. This feels like a continuation of that.
I wish you could have separated your anger, fear, and bitterness from our relationship. I was unable to keep it from getting in the way.
There is more - a lot more.
I have not had the sense any time since I left for college that you were interested in getting to know me, getting to know my wife and children, or even was interested in being considered part of the family that Karen and I created and raised (on our own). This is real.
I am not open to rebuttal. Neither do I consider that our relationship can be repaired. My experience of our past relationship is that I felt punished by you and feel rejected by you, which makes it unimaginable that I would now open up. There doesn't seem to be any possibility of even having a conversation - I simply cannot imagine what would have to happen in order for me to trust you.
I have written this letter over and over in my mind over the last year or so and it keeps ending up blaming you. I don't really want to do that. I own a part of this poor relationship, too. Part of me was angry for the way dad treated you - he was wrong - and part of me was disappointed and shocked how you treated me after your divorce and after I was married. It was hard for me to stay in relationship when so many negative feelings were spilling over uninvited into our relationship and onto my family when I was just trying to figure out - with help from virtually nobody - how to survive. It was easier to just go forward with my life when it seemed too risky and unsafe to try to engage you. And over and over my sense of no safety was reinforced by your bitterness - let me just say this: your relationship with my dad had nothing to do with me. I am not and never have been responsible for your happiness and it is also unfair to expect me or anyone else to fix your lack of happiness.
Moreover, it was unfair of you to require me to choose sides. I was unhappy that you blamed Karen for my lack of religious feelings. I am still shocked at your attempt to impose your beliefs on my children without permission. It has taken me literally decades to unlearn from many of your and dad's examples. I am not proud of stepping away, but I am proud of the person that I am, and my feelings to this day are that I did what I had to do for myself.
You should not consider this a step in some process of reconciliation. A first step would be for you to apologize for what I heard you say in our last phone conversation. You remember what that was: "On a scale of 1-10, how dark is she." I wonder how you feel about that comment now. Since you spent the rest of the conversation defending your judgement and you have had years to think about what you said to me without apology, I don't expect an apology. Nevertheless, that is what would have to come first.
Really, I think this is all there is. I am retired, happy, a successful dad and partner, and getting ready to welcome new members of my family, which I will cherish and love and listen to and let go of without judgement about the color of their skin, the length of their hair, or their religion, or where they live, or their chosen profession, or who they love. I have lived proudly and blissfully this way for a while now and I am ok with myself continuing my own chosen journey. I only wish you could see that.
S-
Sunday, March 17, 2024
Enough is Enough
Anne Lamott writes, "...age teaches us that kind, simple and practical are enough, even in the face of the worst things we’ve lived through: suicides, mental illness, odious leaders, sudden death. My friend Don was called one day by an aging and suicidal friend. His friend asked, “What is the point of it all?” After a moment, Don replied gently, “Mornings are nice.” And, wildly, it was enough."
Wednesday, January 24, 2024
The Way Things Are
We have been told that this is the greatest country in the world, that we are the greatest people in the world and that we have the best of everything. We have the best doctors, the best schools, the best technology, the best engineers and scientists, the biggest companies, the best political system. We have the biggest and most powerful military in history. We are the richest country in the world, the most developed. We have been told, countless times, that the Creator of the Universe destined it this way.
We have been told that we deserve the best. We should be treated like the greatest people on the planet. We can do whatever we want and to whom we want and take whatever we desire. We must be treated like royalty and live like kings and queens.
Why then are so many disappointed, frustrated, and angry. It makes no sense that so many of us go hungry, are homeless, are depressed, die by suicide, are on the verge of being penniless, are powerless, have no future, are exposed to violence and crime, and struggle daily for existence. If we are so smart and powerful and rich why then are we not living like we were promised? Why are we so powerless?
So we are confused and disillusioned and angry. Frothing at the mouth angry. Willing to harm someone angry. Someone is to blame for this injustice. It cannot be ourselves, because we are the smartest, the greatest, the richest. So, for starters we will blame the very people, the very system, that tells us, like a hypnotist, that we are the greatest but at the same time fail to deliver.
Because we are so great and still so powerless we cannot fix it. Someone else must fix it. Someone who will do whatever it will take to remove those who failed to deliver and who will correct the wrongs committed upon us. Someone who will do anything and everything to get us what we deserve, right and wrong be damned, whatever the cost, because it is wrong that we are not living like royalty. And there is someone who has done exactly that for himself. A person who has done anything and everything, will say anything and everything, the system and right and wrong be damned, at any cost, to get what they have. To live like a king and make their own rules. Now do you understand why things are the way they are?
Wednesday, August 23, 2023
How the Healing Begins
Don’t feel sorry for me because I don’t. I frame my scars and healed bones as evidence of a life fully lived. And there are a lot of scars and healed bones. I have acquired them by being both a bit of a risk-taker and by doing completely ordinary things. Once, for example, I was hit while crossing the road by a school bus on a perfect summer afternoon. The driver said he didn’t see me, and an attorney friend said that I should let him “pay for my kids’ college.” Other injuries were sustained falling out of things, off things, and onto things. Temporary setbacks, all.
My worst physical injury was from riding my bike. It was in 2015 during a fast group ride when several riders tangled and fell in front of me. I was the only one that didn’t get up. My shattered arm and shoulder were, according to the surgeon who worked to put it all back together, “an unsolved orthopedic problem.”
About a year after the surgery, I could use my arm enough to play guitar. After eight years I can ride comfortably about 10 miles and 20 if I grit my teeth. My legs are fine, but my arm gets tired. It is still wonderful and magic to ride but the pain keeps me from riding regularly.
As it so happens, my physical injury was coupled with an
injury that was not physical. It is hard
to comprehend how awry my plans to ride and race in my retirement have gone and
how hard it is to come to terms with my new reality. Sometimes, when I share my story, my 30-year love affair with the machine, the years of close camaraderie, the danger, the finely honed skill of riding fast with others, how much I
loved feeling strong and racing all out and hammering on the weekends and hanging with the busters with a strong coffee afterwards, and
how I can’t do it anymore, I am not looking for sympathy. Well, to be honest, maybe a little.
What I really need to share is how much I have lost, which is something all of us experience if we live long enough. That is what I want people to hear, and I am often discouraged by how many people, even close friends, are not able to go there. It’s frustrating and depressing to not be heard.
Once I shared with someone that the state of politics makes me frightened. He thought, wrongly, that I wanted to debate politics. No, I wanted to talk about how politics makes me feel. Completely different topic. It took a risk for me to raise the question and when the conversation took a left turn, it was a bit baffling. I kept trying to redirect by pointing out, “You don’t seem to be listening to what I am saying.” But the other person was stuck in winning his part of the conversation.
So, what do I say to people that suggest I try a recumbent? I want to say, “I am not talking about what kind of thing I should ride. I am talking about losing something important.” Look, I don’t need someone to try to fix me because I know that what I have lost is gone. What I want, and this is what I should ask for, is validation that losing something important hurts. That is how the healing begins - by acknowledging that a life fully lived involves loss and the pain of loss. And I am not sorry for living fully.