Stand for Peace

Writers Who Stand for Peace and Against Injustice

I stand in support of the LGBTT Community. Gay Pride Parade June 5, 2011. Condado, Puerto Rico.

On May 5, 1992 my mother Susan Pittmann and her lesbian partner Christine Puckett were murdered by their neighbor James Brooks. Newspapers in Detroit and Huron Township, Michigan reported that the double homicide was the culmination of an ongoing battle over property lines. My mother was fifty-five, healthy and vibrant with positive ideas about the future. Christine was thirty-nine, energetic and busy raising her teenage son. Brooks was slow to reflect and quick to anger. He became enraged when he saw my mother and Christine publicly expressing affection. By erecting a privacy fence between these two rural properties, Mom and Christine intended to bring a peaceful resolution to Brooks’ complaints. However, it became clear that he was enraged about their gay relationship, and that not seeing them together was not enough. He vigorously complained to neighbors where he found support for his rage, and he formulated his murder plan.

From police reports, it’s clear that he shot Christine first from the side door of his house and then as he walked over to view her body that was face down in the grass, he lifted his gun and shot her in the back. I imagine just before he pulled the trigger, he thought the words he told the police later, “It had to be done”. My mother was on the kitchen phone with the emergency operator reporting that Brooks had threatened their lives when Christine was first shot. She immediately dropped the telephone, ran outside and stood in front of Brooks, weaponless. I imagine she asked him why he did it, and in answer, he shot her just below the heart. Brooks’ determined discriminatory attitude has troubled me ever since. How did he become so certain about his decision to murder my mother and Christine? After the deaths, I watched in astonishment as the actual motivation for the crime was determined to be a property dispute instead of a hate crime. Newspapers reported exaggerated stories casting my mother and Christine in a harsh light, which apparently had nothing to do with their sexual preference.

I was shocked to see my mother, a dynamic loving people-person characterized as a temperamental abuser of animals while Brooks was portrayed as an elderly man who was pushed to the limits of tolerance by his unreasonable neighbors. Neighbors reported that he was upset about my mother’s Pit-bull trespassing onto his property. No one explained that my mother’s dog, Ms. Pitt, was an elderly overweight, exhausted and non-territorial dog that was given a daily dose of thyroid medication just to stay alert. No mention was made of her activism within the gay community, and that she and Christine were founding members of the Affirmations Gay and Lesbian Community Center in Downriver-Detroit. No mention was made that she was a loving mother of five children and devoted grandmother to eight. No mention was made about how much we would continue to miss her for the rest of our lives.

After reading these news reports, I quickly understood that Brooks had not acted alone. In fact, it was a narrow-minded society that provided ammunition for this crime. It was only the gay community that stood strong and honestly told the truth about these murders. They loudly proclaimed that this double homicide was not a neighborhood feud but a hate crime.  As a continued tribute to the gay community, I am honored at Marianne K. Martin’s request to write the forward of her latest novel, The Indelible Heart. This novel extends some of the plot threads related to my mother and Christine that appeared in Martin’s first novel Love in Balance and succeeds in giving a personal face to the events surrounding the murders. Though it is a work of fiction, the narrative highlights how in fact, the gay community rallied together to fight homophobia and violence in response to this shocking crime. I encourage people to read this profoundly moving novel and realize that it is our duty as members of society to stand together and continue a united struggle against intolerance and violence.

Cynthia Pittmann

Brian Alexander is making a documentary on Mom and Chris' story, and the LGBT community in the Detroit Metropolitan area in the early 90s. You can visit the new website http://pittmannpuckett.com to find out more about it. He contacted singer/songwriter Susan Hendrick and asked her to share her talents, which resulted in the moving music video, "Fight 2 B Whole." You can view it below, or click on the link at the Pittmann/Puckett website or plan to watch it during the closing credits of the film.

The Awakening – The Denial

My boy is growing up, actually in many ways he HAS grown up already.

My little boy whom I held in one hand has recently turned 14 is now taller than me and stands at 6ft 1 inch and weighs in at around the 105kg. He has more stubble on his face than I did when I turned 20 and his voice has changed to better match his stature.

My little boy who used to look at me for all the answers and used to believe that I was the source of all knowledge now has his own independent opinion and now believes that I understand little of his world and generation and that suddenly I know nothing.

My little boy who used to stand close to me to feel safe and protected now either walks 10 paces in front or behind me for independence or he stands next to me to intimidate my threats and to protect me ( and his mother ).

Suddenly the world has changed …

“ Hello, my name is Andrew Swansson and I am an obsessive parent who doesn’t want to let go ! ”

I used to think it was so scary being a parent, being 100% responsible for such a defenceless bundle of love and happiness. Being responsible for ensuring that he was always clothed, fed, educated, encouraged, loved and protected. Protected against a cruel world filled with cruel nasty children and a society that has become disengaged and cynical, a world filled with monsters that lurk in the shadows of society.

But now I realise that the scariest thing about being a parent is that one day you won’t be responsible for any of the above. That while your love and support is still appreciated, it’s not their only source and there for not in such high demand.

I was given some words of wisdom when Dylan was conceived and I have never forgotten the words although I can’t remember the source .. “ Always love, protect and encourage your child, for they do not belong to you and are not your possession, they are but on lone to you for a very short time ”

We only ever had the one child, Dylan. His mother would have loved to have a tribe of kids but after seeing Dylan in all his perfection and seeing the toll and effect of bringing him into this world paid by his mother, I honestly never really thought of having another. While there were times I dreamt of having another and maybe having a little daddy’s girl I was never game to tempt fate as Dylan was so perfect in so many ways I was convinced that no one on the face of this earth could be so blessed and so lucky twice in a row.

I am a gambler by nature but that was one roll of the dice I could never bring myself to take.

As I have mentioned in previous blogs, I knew the millisecond that Dylan was conceived, I was tapped on the shoulder by my guide ( God or by whatever name you call them ) and told congratulations you are the proud parents of a happy and healthy son.

I believe that Dylan is a gift from above in so many ways, I believe he has a purpose on this earth that none of us know or understand. I believe that his mother and I were meant to meet and our life journey was to deliver Dylan to this world. It was our life’s journey to protect him and to prepare him for the day that he would walk his own path and write his own story.

A day fast approaching and for which I now find myself totally unprepared for !

( Also posted on my home Blog " The Soap Box Truth "

Writing writing

I'm writing work things and papers and lecture notes and reflections but I'm not writing writing.

Writing involves sitting still, with hands and mind working together. Writing writing is sitting still with me, with hands and mind working together with my internal compass. Writing writing orients me in the right direction in the same way that migrating birds are directed by something internal. Writing gets me where I set my mind to go, but writing writing brings me back to where I am.

I Have A Sister

I have a sister named Kelly. She is my younger sister. She is my first memory.


My mother lays my newborn sister on her back on my parents bed. I am laying on my stomach, head resting in hands, repeatedly criss-crossing my bent legs with excitement. I am positioned at the top of her head, nose buried in her tiny wisps of hair. She smells like freshly baked sugar cookies to my three year old nose and I cannot stop myself from repeatedly kissing her head. When she looks at me and smiles, my heart races and I report this amazing feat with the typical toddler glee of a new big sister. My mother says she is too little to smile yet and it was gas. I know better. I know I made my sister smile and it sinks deep within my heart.



There have been fifty years between that memory and today. Fifty years of growing up and immaturity, laughing and crying, fighting and defending, standing and stooping. Fifty years that seemed like a hundred on some days and only a few moments on others. Fifty years.



Fourteen years ago, Kelly was diagnosed with Hemangiopericytoma. An extremely rare cancer. So rare in fact, the best doctors in California misdiagnosed it as a benign brain tumor. It wasn’t until ten years later, they finally realized what it actually was. The news was not good. They had only seen minimal cases due to it’s rarity and no one had survived past ten years. There was really no known treatment that could change that. Or so they said.



My older sister Char and I jumped online and researched Hemangiopericytoma, hospitals that dealt with it and doctors who specialized in killing it. We found MDAnderson. So, for the last four years we have met in Houston every three months. There have been major surgeries, clinical trials, tears, fears and laughter. Oh Lord, has there ever been laughter.



Last week, I flew to Houston to meet my sister Kelly at MDAnderson. She had a bad feeling about this trip. She kept saying it every time I called beforehand. I did what I am known for doing. I made light of it, changed the subject, made her laugh.



I called Kelly last night on my way home from work. I wanted to know if she had heard anything yet on the test results. She had. I knew before I even asked. I knew. I knew in Houston. I told my brother-in-law when we were walking over to get Kelly from her MRI.



“David, something just isn’t right. Maybe I’m just tired and I can’t put my finger on it but something doesn’t seem right.”



I made David promise not to tell Kelly what I had said as if that would make it go away.



Last night on my drive home from work, I called Kelly like I almost always do.





“Hey Kel, how ya feeling?”



“Fine.”



“What’s wrong?”



The radiation in March had worked well on her spine. The brain tumor had grown but not drastically. She could have a seventh brain surgery to remove the tumor…again. That was the good news she said.



“ Weinberg said my lungs are bad. They couldn’t handle a surgery.”



“What? Your lungs are bad? Your lungs aren’t bad.”



“Marla, the tests say my lungs and liver are bad.”



“Ok, so what are they going to do. How are they going to fix this?”



“Three more months of chemo, then back for results. If that doesn’t work, there’s nothing more they can do.”



I rarely cry. It’s the hand my sister dealt me awhile back. Everyone was always crying over her and she did not want me crying. She wanted me to make everyone smile again. So I did. For the last fourteen years. Until last night.



I screamed at my baby sister on the phone last night. I pulled my car over to the side of the road and I screamed through burning, hot tears.



“You cannot leave me here alone! You cannot! I can’t do this without you!”



“Marla, you’re not helping.”



“I don’t care, you can’t leave me here. I can’t talk to you right now.”



We both hung up without another word.



I dreamt about Kelly last night. It was a dream about something that had happened in Houston last week. We were in the hotel room getting ready for one of her appointments. She was having trouble with her right hand and said she thought one of the doctors was probably right. She believed she would be paralyzed and unable to write one day.



“Whatever Kelly. You never could write anyway.”



Kelly started to cry and said, “You just don’t want to hear the truth.”

I dreamt about that conversation last night. I dreamt about how I felt punched in the stomach at her words because they were true. I saw myself in the dream doing what I had done in reality.



As I stood next to her wheelchair with my arms wrapped around her, I buried my nose in her red hair and kissed the top of her head repeatedly.

Finding love again

Sometimes you just need reminding.

Occasionally you simply need to see it to believe it.

This weekend I saw it, this weekend I remembered.

After thirteen years of marriage and nine years of parenthood, it can be easy to lose your way a little, to forget why you set off on the journey in the first place. I can only write this from my own male perspective, but I don’t doubt the feelings are the same from both sides of the gender fence.

When you set sail on the cruise ship of marriage, the seas are calm and bathed in glorious sun, Whitney Houston wows the crowds in the theatre, and the food is a smorgasbord from heaven.

When kids come along the seas can turn unpredictably choppy. Whitney becomes boring and repetitive, and dinner becomes beige.

We still love our partners and our kids, but it can become a little harder to remember why. Everything has changed, your life, your outlook and your priorities have all changed – as have those of the person you fell in love with.

It is all too easy to find yourself drifting along with the tide, not really knowing where you are going or why you are going there.

I think almost everyone reading this will know of at least one local case study, where a couple have been so strong and so together while their kids were growing up, only to suddenly part once their dependants stopped depending on them so much. They had suddenly discovered that their children were all that they had in common anymore. As soon as they were left alone, they had nothing.

This has been my worry for a while. Parenthood was eroding my personality and my individuality. This may sound a little over the top and maybe it is, but sometimes you can find yourself worrying that you are doing things for the wrong reasons, and if you are still on the right ship.

Please don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I was unhappy at all, I wasn’t. I’m not saying we were having problems, we weren’t. Sometimes though, you do start to wonder who you really are; all you feel like is a dad or a husband, you can’t remember who the person inside was, and if that person was someone you like.

This weekend we went shopping.

It didn’t exactly start off excitingly did it?

The trip has been planned for a while, two nights in Birmingham to shop for a new set of clothes for my successful ‘weight watcher’ wife, because she could no longer hold any of her trousers up without scaffolding.

The boys were with their Grandparents, all we had to do was relax and shop.

I usually hate shopping so I hadn’t really thought too much about the trip as being anything special. We had booked into a cheap hotel and I was mentally primed for a hard day’s shopping. I was ready to put up with the mundane and do my bit as a husband once more, to continue drifting along with the tide.

However…

What happened was a revelation.

What happened was that I remembered.

I remembered just how much I really do love my wife.

I love being with her. Jo is great company, and I hope and think that without the pressures and strains that fatherhood can sometimes bring, I’m not too bad for her either.

We get on.

We talk.

We laugh at each other.

What happened was that I saw.

I saw again just how beautiful my wife is when she smiles.

Jo’s eyes shine so brightly when she is happy it blinds me, when she laughs it melts my heart.

With both of us working full time and looking after two brilliant but frisky boys (aren’t they all?), it is scarily easy to miss these things and forget that they are there. Even shuffling around the Bull Ring for hours on end couldn’t prevent me from enjoying myself. I was in good company – very good company.

Late on Saturday night we sat finishing our meal when it struck me that without either of us doing it on purpose, with no prearranged agreement, neither of us had really mentioned our kids all day. Maybe in passing a couple of times, when we had thought to buy them some sweets, but on the whole they just weren’t being talked about. I couldn’t really tell you what we did talk about, but we certainly talked – a lot!

Just for a couple of days we were no longer parents, and we were no longer husband and wife.

We were friends.

We were lovers.

We were the people we fell in love with.

I don’t think this would have happened quite so well if we had tried to create it; if the purpose of the weekend had been pre-assigned as a ‘romantic’ break. If we had set out to try and forcibly recapture our youth, or attempted to ban talking about the boys in order to direct conversation. I think if we had put pressure on ourselves to get on – we probably wouldn’t.

The weekend worked the way that it did because it was real.

It’s who I really am.

It’s who Jo is.

It’s who we are.

I love who Jo is.

I love who we are.

And perhaps once again, I can love who I am.

Maybe Whitney was right after all.

Previously posted at www.Glenslife.com

It's where I write!

Thoughts on Japan

There is only one thing I can possibly talk about today, and that is Japan.

I cannot even start to describe the awfulness of what nature has subjected those people too.

The images of boat loads of scared kids being rescued, none of whom having the first idea where their parents might be, or if they will ever see them again made my eyes water, the interview with a broken mother, unable to find her daughter forced me to turn the TV off. I could bare it no more. Then I felt stupid and put the TV back on. How can you turn your back on such tragedy?

Devastation has now been compounded by the extra weight of man’s own destructive need for power. This has to be a stark reminder of how fragile our parasitic lives are on this amazing living thing called The Earth.

Man’s need for power has resulted in Nuclear power stations being built on fault lines – and no, in no way shape or form am I having a dig at Japan over this, almost every country on the planet would use Nuclear power if they could – mine certainly does. I’m not even against it, I’m an ex Navy man and I have no personal grievance with this power source, but sometimes you do have to stop and think for a bit.

Really though, is there no other way?

Isn’t there?

For these people to be subjected to the terror of this station melting down on top of everything else, just seems too much.

Nobody could possibly have prevented this Earthquake and the resulting Tsunami; nobody could have accurately predicted its strength or exact time. The shockingly high numbers of deaths are actually amazingly low, testament to just how well prepared Japan was for this.

Learn from the dinosaurs. We are only visitors here. The Earth will live long after humans have stopped. I don’t care what religion you are, you will know that to be true, even if you disagree on how that might come about.

If the human race is going to end, then let it be un-preventable. Let Mother Nature do it, or the God of your choosing, but let’s not do it to ourselves anymore.

Maybe I’m being a bit over dramatic, maybe I’m ranting a little.

Sorry.

But honestly, it has been a tough few years around the world for natural disasters, and though all of them have made me stop and think about how lucky I am, none of the TV imagery has quite caught my attention like this one has. Those kids in the truck were so little, they reminded me so much of my little Jamie. The thought of my son surviving such terror only now not to be able to find the one thing they will be desperate for – his mother’s arms – just brought me to tears.

Spare your thoughts and prayers, however you might say them, for the people of Japan.

They really do need them.

previously posted at www.Glenslife.com

Every Action Has a Ripple Effect: Sending Out Healing Thoughts

I usually post on Wednesday or Friday, but I've been feeling a bit numb recently and unable to write. I'm in a very odd place, I feel. On the one hand, so many things are opening up. Things I never dreamed could happen. My position in the world has shifted. I feel it. I know I am right where I need to be. I know I am on my path. But that doesn't mean it's all roses and daisies and sunshine and rainbows. Nope. Not at all. What I've found is that the more I open up to my path and go into my fear, the more challenges I am faced with. Sometimes I get sucked into the drama, which my husband calls Mara. I've written about Mara before. Mara comes in many forms and is there to distract or sway a person from their chosen path or course of action. If a person is not strong enough, he or she may fall prey to the ensuing drama that is all around and lose the balance of the mind. The key, I realize, is to keep on my path and keep my practice.

A tsunami and earthquake hit the city of Sendai, Japan, where I spent two years of my life, on Friday. While I tried to carry on with my day, it was a bit difficult. The bicycle path elevated above rice fields where I rode to the ocean on the weekend from my apartment is gone along with the fields and houses. I don't know if the students and friends I had there are alive or not. The ripple effects or aftershocks of this earthquake were felt inside my very own heart. It left me feeling hopeless for a day or so. While it seems this tragedy is on the other side of the world far from many of us, I realize it is not that far removed from any of us. We are all affected by anything that happens on the planet. The feelings, thoughts and words of one single person can cause a ripple effects across the entire planet. So what can I do about it? What is the answer to something so devastating?

Last night I found the answer after two days of feeling a bit numb and helpless. I am the answer. I found it while I was sitting in a movie theater near the University of Washington with a handful of other people watching director Tom Shadyac's movie called, believe it or not, I AM. The Los Angeles Times had this to say about it: "The accent (of the movie) is on big-picture optimism and the interconnectedness of all life..." And if we are in fact all "interconnected," as the movie suggests, then what we feel, say and do in this world is so important. The overwhelming state of the world at times can leave each of us feeling helpless. After all, what can "I" as a tiny human being, do to solve the world's problems?

On the outside, the truth is, probably very little can be done from my efforts. I can offer donations, monetary aid and prayers. I could fly overseas and roll up my sleeves and pitch in. Yes, there are certainly things I could do on the outside. But I know that the "real" work begins on the "inside." If each one of us takes entire responsibility for ourselves and our own feelings, thoughts and actions from the inside, then how different our world would be on the outside.

I am the answer and so are YOU. It may sound new agey or weird and at one point in my life I might have scoffed at this very idea and thought, "Now that's wacko." But I don't believe that anymore because my own experience has shown me differently. I have seen how the words I write can have a tremendous effect on the people around me. I have received e-mails and comments from people all over the world on many occasions letting me know that they can relate or that they feel these things to be true or that the words I have written were exactly the words they needed to hear. This hasn't happened once, it's happened dozens of times. And I realize that my words are NOT the important thing at all. In fact, the words themselves have very little to do with what is happening here. The truth is, we are CONNECTED...all of us! We all breathe this air. What is happening here is about intention. I have good intentions in me which were somehow awoken by my choices and situations I encountered in life and those intentions are waking up the intentions in you and your good intentions are also awakening the intentions of those around you as well. And it just keeps going and going.....None of us can OWN these words or this goodness or the dhamma or the scriptures or the laws of nature or ANY OF IT. We are all in it, we are all a part of it and what we do here is so important. It starts with you!

So now, a year before my book is about to launch, I am coming up against some Mara or obstacles, if you will. I feel I am being shaken. My new point of reference in the universe causes unease for some people around me. Thankfully, the number of people who feel unease in what I am doing and want to shake things up is no where near the number of people who have supported what I am doing. So I have to say to YOU out there who have encouraged me: THANK YOU....your intentions and the ripple effects of those intentions have been felt! Keep shining and keep spreading your good intentions, you don't know what a positive effect it can have on you, the people around you, the world and beyond! We all play a part in this and it doesn't matter where we come from or what we believe or who we follow. We are all in this together.

Also on my blog: Lessons from the Monk I Married