Tag: Sense of Belonging

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

· 8 Comments ·

It’s been nearly forty-two years since the American TV sitcom Cheers debuted on September 30, 1982.

In its inaugural season (fall 1982 to spring 1983), Cheers ranked near the bottom in the Neilsen ratings. But by the mid-eighties, it caught fire with audiences and became “Must See” TV for millions–ultimately running for eleven seasons and 275 episodes on NBC.

If you aren’t familiar with the concept of the series, the show was set in a Boston neighborhood bar. Locals–like Norm, Cliff, and Frasier–came there to drink, socialize, unwind, and escape the grind of their day-to-day lives.

The opening theme song written by Gary Portnoy, Where Everybody Knows Your Name, captured the sense of familiarity, comfort, and community bar “regulars” knew was waiting for them every time they walked through the door and descended down the steps for a drink.

But it was the bar banter with Sam, the owner, and the escapades (sometimes sexual) of the Cheers staff over the years–Diane, Carla, Coach, Woody, and Rebecca–that drove the creative content, tickled our funny bones, and warmed the hearts of young and old viewers.

***

I write frequently–in my books and blogposts–about the importance of community connections in our lives.

To feel fulfilled, I believe we need frequent connections to people (animals and plants, too) around us, along with a balance of alone time to recharge our personal batteries.

Of course, singing with the Phoenix Gay Men’s Chorus (PHXGMC) fills a portion of that need for me. (I’m excited for our first rehearsal this Tuesday evening for the 2024/2025 season. We have a new artistic director and 112 singers!)

Each week, I look forward to the musical mayhem, creative camaraderie, and safe haven we share at PHXGMC.

From a writing standpoint, Tom and I have discovered another source of community connection we cherish just a few miles from our condo.

For almost a year–two or three times each week, usually in the afternoon–we have packed up our laptops and driven to Grounds on 2nd in Old Town Scottsdale.

It’s our favorite urban market, coffee shop, wine bar, and local hangout … and a conducive spot for writing. In fact, I’m drafting this post there right now.

The owners and staff are fun, friendly, and welcoming. They and we have become fast friends. They greet us with warm smiles, iced coffee (yes, it’s still hot here!), yummy pastries, and a comfortable place to plug in so we can write our next story or plan our next creative endeavor.

It’s pretty simple. Grounds on 2nd is a welcoming, bright, lofty, contemporary neighborhood watering hole with comfy chairs and rambling plants that green up the room and soften the edges.

Best of all, when Tom and I open the glass doors and walk in … to write, or drink, or just relax with friends … everybody knows our names.

From Longing to Belonging

· 8 Comments ·

I’m back home. Inside the furnace, better known as the Valley of the Sun.

I have begun to reemerge from an affirming, magical, inspiring five days of LGBTQ bonding and music with my chosen family at the 2024 GALA Festival in Minneapolis.

From July 10-14, 7,000 singers (representing nearly 300 choruses and presenters from around the world) inhabited the Twin Cities.

We owned the stages. Occupied the hotels. Flooded the restaurants, bars, shops and streets with gaiety and glee.

But it was more than the magnitude of this quadrennial event that has left an indelible imprint on my creativity and identity. It was the sense of joy, kindness, support, and human possibilities that dazzled me most.

At a time in this country and our world where so much hatred abounds, I was reminded that when love is present–when people truly come together to care for one another and cheer each other on–we can be that Bridge Over Troubled Water (one of the songs my Phoenix Gay Men’s Chorus mates and I performed) of hope for one another.

This was my third GALA. I shared all of them with my husband Tom: 2012 and 2016 in Denver; 2024 in Minneapolis. Each one has nurtured me, deepened my sense of artistry and compassion, and reinforced the importance of rekindling/kindling old and new relationships.

In this 2024 installment, over a five-day period I was able to reconnect and celebrate with friends from Chicago (who perform with the Windy City Gay Chorus and the Chicago Gay Men’s Chorus), Washington, Seattle, and–of course–Phoenix.

A friend and ex-colleague (from my past consulting career) who lives in the Minneapolis area, also surprised and delighted me by attending our performance on July 12. It was a treat seeing her again.

If you follow my blog, you know I have written five books. One is a book of poetry; the other four are memoirs or creative nonfiction. I’ve also written lyrics and librettos for the Phoenix Gay Men’s Chorus.

Already, I have begun to scribble ideas in a spiral notebook that were sparked by my latest GALA experience. Who knows? This may lead me to a stream of poems or lyrics I have yet to compose.

For now, I will leave you with an idea and image that captured my attention on Saturday as Tom and I watched a series of choruses perform inside the auditorium of the Minneapolis Convention Center.

A few rows in front of us, a couple neither of us knows relaxed and leaned in. Away from the heat and fire in the world, they rested their heads against one another. They held each other. They listened to beautiful music in a safe space.

Many of us in the LGBTQ community have spent large portions of our lives searching for answers, longing for love and understanding.

The beauty of the GALA Festival is that–through the power of music, relationships, and community–we can move from longing to belonging.

Moving beyond this amazing and affirming five days in the upper Midwest, we will continue to raise our voices inside our choruses and be our authentic selves outside in the everyday world.

Truly, we are much more than a large collection of singers. Together, we represent a movement of kind, talented, and diverse humans with the power to change hearts, minds, and attitudes.

Counting Life’s Numbers

· 4 Comments ·

Writing is my thing. Not arithmetic. It has never been my forte. Going way back to 8th grade, I was lost in algebra class. That precipitated a math do-over in 9th grade.

Nonetheless, I realize we live in a number-centric society. Keeping track of and understanding numbers allows us to measure progress or lack there of.

Of course, the most obvious and disheartening example these days is the accelerating number of COVID cases and deaths, thanks to the Delta variant and a disturbing number of Americans who are still unwilling to get vaccinated for their sake and those around them.

But that’s not what this post is about. I want to talk about the personal side of math–when you find yourself counting life’s numbers and celebrating the love, commitment, and longevity they represent.

Today marks 25 years since Tom and I met. In this ever-changing society, I’m proud of that significant number, though it pales when compared with the total our neighbors Mary and Earl have accumulated. They will celebrate their 55th wedding anniversary in October.

At any rate, Tom and I are thankful to be together for a quarter of a century. We’re escaping the summer heat of Scottsdale to spend a few cooler nights in a cozy B&B in Flagstaff, a mountain community we love.

We’re like a lot of gay couples in the sense that we remember and celebrate 2 anniversaries: the day (August 17, 1996) we met and the day (September 6, 2014) almost 7 years ago when we were married in an outdoor courtyard on a gorgeous late summer afternoon in Illinois, surrounded by 60 friends and family members.

In 1996, we didn’t imagine it would ever be legal in the United States for same-sex couples to marry and receive equal rights to those of straight ones. The idea of marriage equality was barely a whisper. Less than 2 decades later it became a reality thanks to a movement we fully endorsed … proof of an astonishing, positive shift supported by a majority of American people.

In the time since Tom and I met at a northwest suburban Chicago gay bar, we have emerged from a hidden life to an open one. Along the way, we have counted life’s numbers.

Collectively, in the past 25 years we have: raised and counseled my 2 boys into adulthood; loved and lost 1 adorable basset hound and 1 crafty cockatiel; cared for and buried 3 of our parents; endured 36 years in the workforce; vacationed in 4 European countries (Italy, Ireland, Germany, and Austria) and 10 or 12 American states; watched our favorite baseball teams win 3 World Series (2 for my St. Louis Cardinals in 2006 and 2011; 1 for Tom’s Chicago Cubs in 2016); written and published 5 books; and survived 1 mild heart attack during 1 cross-country move. As I write this, we continue to navigate our way through 1 global pandemic that won’t end.

Of course, the glue that keeps our relationship going isn’t really about the numbers. It’s in the love and laughter we share, the relationships we’ve formed with friends and neighbors, the hundreds of movies we’ve watched together, the countless Scrabble games we’ve played over coffee, the unexpected hospital visits we’ve negotiated, the quieter moments reading and writing we protect; and the sense of day-in-day-out respect, comfort, and security we provide one another.

When it comes to the most important relationship in my life, it makes perfect sense why I’m not a math guy. I simply can’t put a number or value on the love Tom and I share, the hurdles we’ve cleared, and the successes we’ve realized.

Together, we are greater than the sum of our parts.

Tom and me in October 1996 enjoying a Wisconsin weekend.
Tom and me in June 2021 during our Montana vacation.

A Sense of Belonging … No Foolin’

· 1 Comment ·

CactusBloomingTop.jpg

It’s April Fools’ Day. But there’s nothing foolish about recognizing the sense of belonging we all need. In fact, I think the safety and support of a circle of friends and a welcoming community are essential for us to bloom in a world of controversy and thorny problems.

All of this crossed my mind Sunday. I had just left the stage with my gay friends in the Phoenix Metropolitan Men’s Chorus. We were one of several LGBTQA choral and instrumental groups that performed at the We Are One concert. It was a rousing afternoon of uplifting music at the beautiful new Madison Center for the Arts in Phoenix. I felt warm and loved there performing in front of an appreciative audience. To be clear, it wasn’t just the applause. It was because I knew I belonged singing on stage with sixty new friends.

I know I’m fortunate. This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced the love and support of a circle of friends. In fact, I’ve felt a sense of belonging in many aspects of my life with my husband, my sons, my extended family, my neighbors in Arizona … and certainly with friends, neighbors and colleagues in the Chicago area before moving to Arizona almost two years ago.

But if you are different or disadvantaged in any way, you know this to be true: a loving community is paramount. Strangely–even in 2019–LGBTQA folks are rejected for who they are by their immediate family members. So, they are left to cobble together the families of their own choosing. This is especially troubling at a time when our own government officials seem determined to roll back rights and protections for American citizens in many circles.

So last night, after the We Are One concert, I needed to share the love I feel for my new circle of friends. I sent them a message. I told them how proud I am to sing with the Phoenix Metropolitan Men’s Chorus. I told them how important they are to my husband and me. I told them that because of the music we sing and the friendships I’m making with all of them, I’m feeling their love and developing my own sense of belonging again.

To be honest, in 2017 when I said goodbye to another close group of friends at the Windy City Gay Chorus in Chicago–people I loved and performed with for seven years–I wasn’t sure I’d find that sort of community connection a second time. Especially after surviving a heart attack on the way west.

But I’ve found it again. I feel the love in Arizona. In my new home town. No foolin’.