Tuesday, April 30, 2019

A Change in Perspective


 
 I’ve found lately that I have had to change the way that I see myself these days. For all of my talk and writing of bravery in being out and about, up until relatively recently, I’ve often enjoyed the privilege of passing: being perceived as female by those that I interact with. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never passed perfectly, but I used to pass well enough that half of the people I interacted with never noticed me, and most of the remaining half wasn’t sure enough one way or the other to say anything. Not true anymore. These days, the vast majority of those that I deal with are quite sure that I am TG and this has caused me quite a bit of depression and trepidation. A combination of old age, bad health, etc, have all conspired to work against me and make me a much more obvious “man in a dress.”  As a result, I’ve had to sort of reevaluate my own perspective and decide if I do or do not have the courage to still step out into the world, knowing that most of the people I will deal with will know that I am physically male. For much of the last year the answer has been “no”, but at least for this week, for this day, and for this moment, the answer was yes.  I have indeed dredged up the courage to once again head out the door.
I’ve had to start flying United Airlines again because my company has reached some sort of agreement with them so that we now get a corporate discount. As a result, they come in so much cheaper than the other airlines that I can’t justify not flying with them. They aren’t mean to me or disrespectful or anything like that, but they really aren’t warm and friendly like Delta airlines is with me. Half of the Delta customer service representatives in Austin know me by name and greet me warmly when I arrive at their counter. Usually the United Airlines representatives give me a bit of a sideways look and turn utterly professional when dealing with me. Again, they don’t mistreat me in anyway, they just aren’t terribly friendly. For this reason, I was kind of surprised Monday morning when I  checked in and the lady behind the counter was genuinely friendly to me and even went so far as to tell me that she thought I looked quite pretty. We both know that she fibbed, but at least she made the effort to talk to me. The bad news is that she caught me so off guard, and I was so full of my own internal anxieties that I didn’t follow-up on this by striking up a conversation. She had gone out of her way to reach out to me and I had failed to reciprocate it. It wouldn’t surprise me if she now thinks that I am the cold and unfriendly one.  
I spent the entire day wound around the axle and filled with so much anxiety that I think I literally jumped when a gentleman spoke to me as I was entering the Minneapolis airport from the jet bridge.
“Miss?” I heard a voice softly saying from slightly behind me and off to my left side. I slowed and turned to look at the man, all of the while wondering what stupid thing I had done to draw someone’s attention. Had I left my phone or tablet behind on the plane? Was the back of my skirt stuck up in the waist band? Did I have toilet paper stuck to my shoe?
“I just wanted to tell you how pretty that skirt is,” he said, with a kind look in his eyes.
“Thank you,” I all but blurted out, just relieved that it was something nice, and that I hadn’t done anything stupid or embarrassing.
“You don’t see that sort of skirt very often with a pattern like that that in it, “ he elaborated, apparently speaking about the flowers embroidered into it.
“Thank you,” I repeated. “That’s exactly what I liked about it and why I bought it!” I agreed, at last starting to pull my head out of my ass long enough to try and hold a polite conversation.  He gave me a warm smile and headed off his way down the concourse and I headed off on my own.
The Holiday Inn I was staying at is literally across the street from the customer I was visiting, so I really can’t complain much about convenience. I did have to fight the urge to roll my eyes at the woman that checked me in though.
“Hi! Can I help you?” asks the woman behind the counter.
“Yes, please. I have a reservation and would like to check in.”
“Name?”
“Huddle.”
“Ok,” she says as she starts looking through the paperwork looking for mine.
“Oh, here we are. Matthew?” she asks, quite loudly.
“Uh huh,” I answered, all of the while noticing the way the other customers around the counter are turning to look at me.
“All right then Matthew,” she continues, still quite loudly going out of her way to say my first name, “If you will please provide all of the highlighted information on this form, I’ll get you all checked in!”  By now of course, all four of the other guests and another hotel employee are all staring at me. I honestly don’t think that she was trying to be a witch, I think that she was just being thoughtless.
Despite my utter lack of confidence, I still made it a point to go shopping at the Mall of America because . . . well . . because it’s the freaking Mall of America and I  just had to!  😛






The following days work was about as smooth a day as you could ask for, with no surprises, and no real challenges to speak of. My customer was paying very close attention to everything that I was doing and clearly wanted to have some idea how to take care of his own equipment, so I went out of my way to explain everything that I was doing as I was doing it. This I can do without seriously impacting my productivity as long as I just need to describe what I am doing as I am doing it. Now if a customer wants to ask me questions about some other aspect of the equipment than the task that I am currently performing, it’s a whole different story. Anyway, I arrived at 730AM and was done and on my way back to the hotel across the street by 1130AM, so I figured that I was going to spend some more time in the real world. I started off by shopping at DSW Shoe Warehouse because a lot of my shoes are older than some of you that are reading this blog. As I was sitting on the bench trying on a pair of shoes, I could hear a woman apparently talking to a little girl a few feet away from me.
“Oh, you look fabulous! You wanna see them in the mirror?” Grandma asks the toddler. I can’t quite make out what the little critter says back to grandma, but a few seconds later a little girl of maybe three years walks past the isle that I am sitting in, accompanied by the very loud “clip clop” of a pair of huge red pumps that her feet are all but buried in.
“OK, turn and face Grandma so I can take your picture! You are totally ROCKING those pumps girl!”  Photos apparently taken, Grandma meets the little critter at the end of the aisle where I am grinning like an idiot. 
“You’re starting her out kind of young don’t  ya’ think?” I asked Grandma with a grin on my face to make it clear that I am teasing.
“Oh no, it was all her idea! I think she’s got it going on though, don’t you?” asked Grandma.
“Sure!” I said, playing along.
“I think they’re perfect for you!”  I continued, looking at the little critter this time.  Maybe it was just a little person being shy that a stranger had talked to her, or maybe she was a child that realized that something about me wasn’t quite right, but I’d have to be honest that it kind of broke my heart when the little girl just stared at me blankly without the slightest hint of a smile until Grandma dragged her off down the store. I visited a few more stores but bought nothing of note and eventually followed my customers suggestion and headed off to a Casino that was about 10 miles away. As usual lately, I received more than my fair share of grins from people I walked by, and more than one “What the hell?” look, but I continued on about my way. At one point, I was down about $50 playing 25 cent and dollar slot machines. I threw in the last $5 that I was willing to risk and had to laugh out loud when I won $80 on the video poker game. I wasn’t about to let them win that money back, so I cashed it out, and headed for the hotel!
Two days back out in the world, but I still can’t decide how I feel about it. I’ll let you know if I figure it out . . .



Saturday, February 9, 2019

Whirlwind


So many of my blogs start this way these days, and I am sorry about that. I dislike being repetitive, but I am truly unsure where to start on this one since so much has happened since I last wrote.  A lot of this happened almost a year ago and so will be shared in only the vaguest way here, and again, I’m sorry about that as some of this deserves more than a cursory mention.

The last few years have been a bit rough on my family, with so many loved and cherished family members dying with little or no advanced warning. God help us, but my generation is now the oldest remaining in my family, and we had all come to realize that the only time that we bothered to go through the effort to see each other was when there was a death in the family. First my mother, and then followed not long after by her husband. We finally decided that we had had enough of meeting with death in the air and it was time to have a family reunion that did not involve a loss. After much debate, we agreed to gather our family from all over the continent on a lake in Northern California in July. We had no way to know that we would be too late for several that we all adored. . .
First, we lost my niece – my big sisters daughter Sunshine. Sunshine was special to me in so many ways. I was “the baby” in our little family, and so Sunshine was the first person that ever “looked up” to me and maybe found something admirable in me. I adored that little girl and to this day would not hesitate to trade places with her if it were possible to bring her back.  I received that call from my sister at about 3AM, and by about 6 AM I was in my truck and headed out driving from Texas to Arizona where the family gathered around my sister. 

Only a few short months after that, I received another call. This time, it was my sister-in-law; my brother’s wife. With no warning and no serious illness that we were aware of, my sister-in-law just died on Halloween night. They were handing out candy when she told my brother that she didn’t feel well and was going to go take a nap. He found her dead in bed shortly after. Once again the family gathered with death hanging in the air around us. Just to add a little more pain to the day, my sister’s home burnt to the ground while we were at the funeral.
Also attending that funeral was my Aunt Sandy, the mother of my cousin Scott. Scott was so close to us growing up that we more or less considered ourselves brothers; we were pretty much inseparable and were often into trouble together. I took one look at my aunt and knew instantly that I’d never see her alive again. The vibrant woman that I had grown up with was gone, replaced by a heart breaking thin and frail woman in a wheel chair. I hugged her every chance that I got that day because I knew it would be the last time that I saw her, and I was sadly correct as she died only a month or so later.
So here we were, people that were smart enough to have realized that we needed to plan an event that allowed our family to get together just to enjoy each other and we had been too late. Please don’t bother offering condolences. While I appreciate the compassion that prompts them, they pretty much just open the wound again. I only tell you all of this to put everything into context.

Along about May or June, I started to notice that I was unusually short of breath anytime I did anything at all strenuous, and an ever increasing pain in the center of my chest started to grow to the point where it could no longer be ignored. I mentioned my growing concern to my wife, and being the Army veteran that she is, she assured me it was probably because I had allowed myself to get fat and out of shape, and encouraged me to get up off of my ass and do some exercise. I was pretty sure that this was more than my being out of shape as I’d been out of shape before in my life and it was a totally different feeling, but I still had to agree that it was a reasonable conclusion and so I made an effort to get more physical exercise.  Each time, the pain in the center of my chest would get ever worse as I worked up a head of steam, and the pain would only decline when I would stop jogging. I went to the doctor several times, they took several EKG’s and declared me normal at the conclusion of each one. This appeared to bolster my wife’s theory that I was just out of shape and so I’d go home and try to jog again, only to be forced to stop due to the pain. Eventually someone got the bright idea to do a cardiac stress test where they have you work out a bit on a treadmill and then do a fancy type of x-ray that lets them see how your heart is reacting to it. I had been afraid that this would be like taking your car to the mechanic and having it show no signs of the problem you took it there for, and so was oddly pleased when my chest began to hurt almost immediately after I started walking on the treadmill. At the conclusion of the test, the doctor approaches me with an odd smile on his face.
“Well, I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news.” He says.
“Okay, do tell?”
“The good news is that you are not crazy, and it’s not all in your head. The bad news is that you do have a heart problem.”
“Awesome.” I groaned.
 So yeah, like a day later I am in the Austin Heart Hospital with a widget inserted through my wrist that allowed them to snake a device through my veins all of the way from my wrist to my heart where they inserted a heart stent to open a blocked vein. I woke up part way through this process to have the doctor point to a video screen and show me where he was installing the heart stent, and then also show me a branching vein that was mostly closed. He explained that installing stents into the branching vein was a bit more complex and would have to be done in a separate procedure at a later date.  You should have seen the look on his face later that evening in my hospital room when I flat out refused to come back in a few days to have the other heart stent installed.
“I’m not sure that you understand the gravity of the situation,” says the surgeon.
“Oh no, I understand it and I thank you for your concern doc, but tomorrow I start my first vacation in over a decade. It’s not just a vacation either; it’s a family reunion that was setup specifically because we were sick of only seeing each other when someone dies!  It’s been planned for over a year and I will not miss it, and I do not intend to be the one that dies just days before it takes place.”
So the doc argued with me, my wife argued with me, and I assured them both that they should save their breath because I wasn’t coming back until after my vacation. Eventually everyone calmed down and with a stern warning from the doctor not to exert myself, we headed for home. A day later, and we packed up a rental car and headed out for two weeks of road tripping across the better part of half of the continental United States. Many years ago, we had taken a vacation to visit my family in California and we had made it a point to stop at almost everything of interest between Texas and California. We had thoroughly enjoyed that trip and so we decided to do much the same on this trip. And thus began an epic and whirl-wind journey . . . 



The first place of note that we stopped at was the grave of Billy the Kid. Much to my surprise, neither one of my children had any idea who the heck Billy the Kid was, and so they were a tad less than thrilled about it. Still, it was along the way, and so we stopped.
 

 




















Our next stop was the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest. For those of you that have never heard of it, the Petrified Forest is a large stretch of desert that once was forest, and it is littered with the now fossilized remains of trees. Some of these fossils are the size of pebbles, and some are quite large portions of the original trees. Considering that my son has expressed an interest in becoming a paleontologist, I thought that this would be a really cool experience for him.
 







 Moving on, we stopped at Meteor Crater in Arizona. Everyone in the car started laughing when I played the theme song to “2001: A Space Odyssey” as we were making our way up the long drive to the crater. Space and earth science are both two of my favorite subjects and so I spent a good part of the drive pontificating on and on about how the large hill that we were approaching was not made by your typical geologic event, but by the impact of a meteor. I’m pretty sure that I failed to excite either child. What can I say, it was a tough crowd.






We hadn’t really intended to stop at the Grand Canyon as we figured that it would take too long, and we did have a reunion to get to, but the more I thought about it as we were passing all of the exits for it, the more I just couldn’t bear the thought of taking my children right past one of the biggest wonders of the world and not stopping.  Everyone thinks that they have a concept of what the Grand Canyon is, but trust me, you don’t have a clue unless you have seen it. All of the photos and videos in the world just cannot give you a proper sense of the scale of the thing, nor a proper appreciation of it. It’s something that you really must behold with your own senses. 





 
Next, we headed out across Death Valley to Big Pine California and had a bit more adventure along the way than we had anticipated. I really don’t recall a year later the exact route that we took, but I think it was HWY 168 that we took through the mountains and then down into Big Pine. Now the fun came into this when after driving for hours without another car in sight, you find yourself on the top of a HUGE mountain, at midnight, the road turns into dirt, and then becomes an endless series of sharp switchbacks with cliffs on the side. It really becomes interesting when you realize that you are down to less than a quarter of a tank of fuel, haven’t seen a human being or building in three hours, and you are starting to think that you may have screwed up really bad. We did have a moment of levity though when we reached the crest of the mountain. Both children were asleep in the back and so I whispered to my wife that I was going to stop the SUV for a moment, shut it all off, and then just stand outside in the peace and quiet, hundreds of miles from any other human being, their lights, and their noise. For some reason, the thought of one truly quiet moment really appealed to me, so I pulled to the side, turned the car off, stepped out, and closed the door behind me. After a brief moment, the interior lights went out and I prepared to soak in some peace of mind. I was to be disappointed though, because suddenly there was a knocking on the window behind me. I chose to ignore it.
“Daddy . . .” says my daughter, knocking on the window again. I hear my wife shushing her and trying to quietly explain that she needs to be silent for a moment, but of course there isn’t another sound for hundreds of miles so this is all very loud and more than a little annoying given that it is ruining the very purpose of my stopping. Still, in a moment the quiet begins to settle and my heart rate slows, and I anticipate the first truly quiet moment that I have had since I was a teenager . . .    Nope. With all of the subtlety of a freight train, the peace is utterly destroyed when the car horn starts to blow over and over, with the lights flashing in sync. Apparently my wife had locked the door when I got out, and when my daughter tried to open the damned thing, it set off the alarm. I’ve gotta admit that I was absolutely furious for a good five minutes, but ultimately we all laughed like hell at the absurdity of the thing. Now fully awake, adrenaline coursing through my veins, we made our way down the scary scary dirt road switch backs into Big Pine.


By now we had been on the road for something like three days, and so we were a little less than bright eyed and bushy tailed the next morning when we headed out to Yosemite. Yosemite was an absolutely incredible thing to experience. I cannot do it justice with words, and certainly cannot compete with others who have already tried to do so, so I will pretty much leave it at that. Absolutely incredible place to visit and drive through, and I strongly advise you to check it out if you ever have the chance. After many more hours of driving, we at last found ourselves at the lake in Northern California that we had all agreed upon for the reunion.











The whole concept of the reunion had been to get together without a death being the focal point, but of course that was out the window as we lost three cherished members of our family mere months before. We still tried to make the most of it though, and tried not to dwell on those that were missing. All in all, we spent a very pleasant week there and I was glad that my younger children were finally getting the chance to meet people from my side of the family. The bad news is that the grueling schedule of the prior week began to take its toll on me and I grew tired pretty quickly every day. I don’t advise getting heart stents installed and then heading out the next day on a cross country road trip. It grew awkward a couple of times when I had to beg off early, because I had made it a point to not tell anyone about my heart problems as I thought that my sister had had quite enough on her plate lately and didn’t need the worry.
I had let my sister know that seeing the giant redwoods was on my bucket list of things to do before I died, and so I was delighted to find that a trip had been planned for everyone to go for a hike through them. Oh. My. God. Seeing these huge and ancient trees was one of the most awe inspiring things that I have ever done. I’m sure that it’s a personal preference thing based upon opinion, but I think I’d even place seeing them above seeing the Grand Canyon. It’s almost a religious experience to see something that huge and that old that is still living.  
















After about a week hanging out at the lake with my extended family, we headed for home – via Salmon Idaho. . .
My wifes mother had suffered a serious stroke a couple of years ago and wasn’t doing so hot, so we were making it a point to visit her as it was a somewhat feasible thing to do on our road trip. Things didn’t go as well as one might have hoped though, as her mom ended up having to be taken to the hospital that night by ambulance. We stayed a day or two, visiting her off and on in the hospital. It was a bit awkward though, as the stroke had left her unable to speak. At last the day came when we had no choice and had to head back home as the children would have to go back to school and I had to get my ass back to get some more heart stents installed. We had intended to pass through Yellowstone on the way home, but my mother-in-law being in the hospital, combined with my own exhaustion pretty much ruled that out. The remainder of the drive home was no frills, no landmarks, and only stopping to get a good nights sleep in hotels.  My mother-in-law died a couple of weeks after we got home . . .

This time they had to install the heart stents through a large vein in my groin, and yes, this was just about as much fun as you might imagine. They ended up having to install four more heart stents, and due to a few relatively minor complications, I ended up spending three days in the hospital recovering. When it finally came time to start the checking out process, I received a visit from quite a few people of differing specialties. One of them was in their rehab program and she handed me an arm load of material and strongly advised me to join their program. It turns out that it requires three visits a week to exercise while they monitor your heart, and so I declined. When she politely objected, I had to explain that I travel for my living and would have to quite in order to participate in a program that required me to be there three times a week. I wasn’t terribly surprised when she implied that I might need to evaluate my priorities – work or life? I assured her of two relevant things:
1 – If I lost my job, I wouldn’t be able to afford the rehab anyway
2 – I’d rather shuffle off of this mortal coil, giving my wife and children the life insurance, than to lose my job and see them homeless.
My priorities are in the right place, they just aren’t where she expected them to be. 

Three days later my happy ass was on an airplane to go provide a week of training to John Deere. Remember I told you that the heart stents were installed through a large vein in my groin area? Yeah, that ended up scaring the holy living shit outta me, because while I was at John Deere, the entire inside of one thigh turned a nice dark shade of red/blue all of the way down to my knee. I called the hospital in a complete panic but was assured that it was almost certainly just normal results of blood that had already leaked during the procedure. It would have been just grand if they had warned me in advance that this might happen. All of this was now months ago and I am fully recovered, but at the time it was scary as hell.

I have made many trips for work since then, but very few as Kim. I’m just too tired all of the time, and frankly everything has sort of taken its toll on me. I feel old and I look like it too. I’m actually kind of stunned at how much I have aged in the last year. I’ve seen that happen to others but never anticipated it happening to me, and I have to say that I am not delighted with it.






My last trip was to New Jersey this week. Fortunately the weather had improved from the prior week, because I had been scared to death that it was going to be in the negative teens for my trip. In the end, it turned out to be quite nice while I was there, so I really can’t complain. My company has recently reached an agreement with United Airlines, and so I once again find myself flying the one airline that I absolutely hate. Many years ago, they destroyed a $1,500 guitar of mine and refused to accept responsibility for it. It’s case was undamaged, but the guitar inside was shattered, leading me to the conclusion that the guitar was taken from its case, damaged, then put back, but United didn’t see it that way. The only thing they offered was $50 off of my next United flight. I told them that they could keep their money because I would never step foot on another United Airlines aircraft again. A few years later, my company tried to make me fly on them again and I was still so angry that I told them they had a choice to make – United Airlines or me, because if you try and force me to fly on United again, I quit. Apparently they valued me, because the threat was not put to the test.  Welp, I’m older now so it wont be so easy to find a comparable job, and I have a wonderful heart condition that requires expensive drugs and doctors, so I’m no longer willing to threaten to quit. Yep - my happy ass flew United Airlines again for the first time in over a decade.
When I landed in Philadelphia, I apparently managed to make my way to the baggage area for the wrong concourse, and once you leave the secure area, the only way to get to the other concourse was outside.  I didn’t even have the energy to get pissed off when I was making my way down the sidewalk and some asshole yells “You’re a dude!” clear across the street to me.  Thanks man, because I had no freaking idea what I am and really needed you to clarify it for me. Thanks so much. . .

Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Bright Eyed Immigrant


There was an elderly woman that sat next to me in the gate area of the Knoxville flight to Atlanta. She was probably in her early 70s and had the most brilliant blue eyes that I have ever seen. We traded a few pleasantries and then she put her nose in her book, and I put my nose in mine.
After making the flight from Knoxville to Atlanta and having a two hour layover, we were both kind of amused as she once again took a seat next to me, this time in the gate area for Austin. Anyway, we struck up an actual conversation this time, but it was interrupted as she took a phone call, presumably from family or friends. I wasn’t exactly ease dropping, but she was sitting right next to me as she had her conversation so there was no trouble realizing that it wasn’t English. I’ve traveled a lot in my life and can often identify a language even if I can’t speak it, but I couldn’t quite figure out what hers was and so I asked her when she got off of the phone.
“Do you mind if I ask what language that is? It sounds similar to German but not quite.”
“I’m Dutch.” Replies this lady with brilliant blue eyes.
“Am I right that it has similarities to German?” I asked her.
“It does,” she replied, “But as much as I don’t like the Germans, I’d have to admit that their language has some nuances that ours doesn’t have. “ Through our discussion I learned that she had come to America 40 years ago as a physician. Making it as a female physician 40 years ago impressed me and I told her as much. She further impressed me by being modest about it. I told her that as the parent of a daughter and having two granddaughters, I loved to see that women were succeeding in fields that were once the sole domain of men. As an example, I’ve seen a clear and unambiguous increase in the number of female pilots in the last five years or so.
Next we started talking about immigrants and the new attitudes and apparent hostility of Americans toward them. You should have seen the look in her eyes as she assured me that she had lived through WWII and had seen this very thing happen before; she had seen a society blaming their problems on immigrants and becoming hostile toward them. It didn’t work out so well for anyone involved – not the Germans, certainly not the Jews, and it didn’t do the world as whole a bit of good.

What a thought that 40 years ago America welcomed this physician with the brilliant eyes to our nation and profited in so many ways from her addition to our country, and yet today they would discourage her from coming. There was a lot more to this conversation than I can't possibly share, but my eyes were watering as we wrapped it up. In the end, she actually reassured me.
“America is a wonderful and rich place. It will come back to its senses.” 
I hope so my friend, I hope so . . .