____ Career Growth and Stability
____ Family
____ Education
____ Sports and Recreation
____ Health and Hygiene
____ Traveling
____ Faith and Religion
____ Money and Financial Security
____ Technology
Each of the above is important. They all play a relatively significant role
in the lives of most people in developed countries. Now, as I’m sure you’ve been asked to do many
times, rank them. From 1 to 10. Use each number only once. Which is the most important to you? How do you justify your order? Would other people place them in the same
order if they were evaluating your life from an “outsider’s perspective”?
Of course it doesn’t really work like that. They intersect with one another. They blend together. They fluctuate. Different variables can change what is important
at any given moment. For many, life can’t
be compartmentalized or categorized as such.
I know it can’t for me.
I value all of the above.
Some would fluctuate much more
than others, but you would consistently find “Family” towards the top. They are the people who are nearest and dearest
to my heart. My family is the best! They accept the award. They take the cake. They win the gold. And any other person that makes the same
claim is a liar. I call your bluff. I challenge you to a duel. To the death.
There is a debate regarding the “choice” of
homosexuality. Some believe that it is
strictly a matter of choice, often one made after disturbing life events. Others believe that it is natural. Not a choice.
Born gay. Not born with “it”, as if it were a contagious disease or
mental condition. Not born different. Born, with
an orientation that isn’t heterosexual. Born.
Human.
I find it necessary to describe my family and the role they
have played in my life. There are people
who believe that most, if not all, gay people “become gay” as a result of
either a missing father or some form of sexual assault, rape, or abuse in their
childhood. I’ll share my experience with such a person in a future post. So I
find it imperative to clarify this horribly inaccurate and offensive
stereotype. Are there people who have
become involved with homosexual relationships as a result of those
factors? Yes, of course! But I don’t think many would disagree that
missing father figures or experiencing rape or sexual abuse leads to many types
of life decisions. Choices that don’t
include homosexuality. Regardless,
choosing to believe that homosexual people are gay as a result, and only as a
result, of one of these two things is pure ignorance. So allow me to introduce myself: a gay male
that has an incredible father and never experienced any form of sexual abuse. And,
to make it perfectly clear, I’m not
an anomaly.
I am a member of a relatively small family, especially when
I compare it to my partner’s family, which I swear includes the entirety of
Baltimore. My nuclear family is five,
including myself. My extended family isn’t
too large; in fact, we all fit, quite smugly, in my grandparents’ homes during
holidays and family gatherings. It would
probably still be the case today; however, great grandchildren might make that
a little more difficult.
My parents are David and Kathy Coalter; both were born in
Sparta, Michigan. In fact, they were
high school sweethearts. They were
married after graduating and remain married today. My parents are the most significant factor in
the development of my character and the person that I have become. I am forever grateful for their love,
patience, gentleness, discipline, and compassion. They sacrificed tremendously
for their family, and they supported myself and two siblings unwaveringly.
My father is dedicated to providing for his family. We were never wealthy but we lived very
comfortably. I’m not sure that my father
has ever worked a job that he was passionate about; however, he has taught us a
strong work ethic and perseverance. He
is always on time. He always dresses for
success. He never calls out sick. He is kind to his employees, and it is
evident that he is greatly respected by them.
My father was a family man. I
remember sitting at home in the living room or playing the front yard, and my
father would pull into the driveway before 5:00pm almost every day. He never missed an event in which one of his
children participated. He made it to all
of our sporting events. He never missed
teacher conferences. He always spent
time with us. He would play basketball in
the driveway. He would sit and play
video games. He helped me learned the
guitar when I struggled teaching myself.
He would help my brother and me with our dirt bikes and ATVs. He would play cards and various party games
with us. And on top of all of this, he
loved his wife. It is still evident to
me that my mother is the queen of his life.
With every little kiss or pinch or slap of the butt, it is clear that he
loves her. He was always a quiet man,
but give him a couple beers and be assured that you will be experiencing some
of his life wisdom. My father is my
hero. I admire him. I respect him. I want to be like him.
I am a momma’s boy. I’m
not embarrassed. I’m not ashamed. I love my momma! If ever there was a woman that supported and
loved her children near unconditionally, it was her. She is kind, gentle, forgiving, affirming,
supportive, tender, compassionate, patient…the list goes on. My mother functioned in the same manner as my
father. She would not miss a single
event in which her children were participating.
Rain. Snow. Sleet. Burning heat.
Guaranteed she was there being the loudest and proudest supporter of her
children. My brother, sister and I
always came first. She began working
when we were older, but she stayed at home with us during our childhood. When she did start working again, she always
came home and made us dinner and spent the evenings with us watching TV or
playing games or helping us with our homework.
Still, to this day at age 32, I talk with my mother almost daily. It used to be over the phone; now it is over
FaceTime so that I can “play” with my niece.
My siblings Matt, Kaylan, Katie, and Ian are all
incredible. I am stuck between Matt and
Katie. Yes, I always play up the middle
child syndrome. Matt is now married to
Kaylan, and Ian is Katie’s husband. I
have so many wonderful memories with my siblings. We used to all sleep together on Christmas
Eve. Matt, the oldest, would keep us up
all night by asking us if we were asleep.
And at midnight, every year without fail, he would scream at the top of
his lungs, “Merry Christmas!” I remember
playing in the backyard with our Siberian husky, Caia. She would tear through the snow during the
winter and attack us to take the hats off of our heads. I remember going to the cabin with them. Snipe hunts. Riding the four wheelers and
dirt bikes and go-carts. Walks through
the woods. Competing to see who could
find the first star in the night sky.
Hikes to the Fire Tower. I
remember birthday parties. I remember vacations. I remember bike rides through the
neighborhood. Memories. Memories upon memories ingrained in my head
of the happiest childhood with the most incredible siblings. Both of them are crazy in their own way. Both can make my cry in laughter. Both have incredible spouses that have become
family.
My childhood and teenage years were beautiful. I am so thankful for the household in which I
was raised. I am thankful that my
parents made us eat dinner together as a family every night. I am glad that they taught us manners, some
as simple as asking to leave the dinner table when we were done eating. I am
thankful that they made us do chores. I
am thankful that they disciplined us. I
am thankful that they took us to church.
I am thankful for the immense amount of time that they spent with
us.
Now, my family has grown.
Doubled. Tripled. Quadrupled.
I consider my partner’s family as my own. They are beautiful, wonderful people who have
welcomed me into their home and family.
Despite the enormous size of the family, they are still so close. And they are funny. Hilarious.
I’ve never met a family who laughs more together. Or who cracks jokes on one another as
often. Or who enjoys a good round of
cards as much! I’ve been to Baltimore quite a few times by now, and I am still
meeting members of the family. I can’t
keep cousins straight. I confuse aunt
and uncle names. I don’t know which
child belongs to which parent. But I
love them all. And, best part of all,
they raised the man with whom I fell in love.
But, more on that later.
I could continue writing for pages on pages about my family
and their influence on my life. But I
hope that it is clear. I had a very
close-knit, involved family who cared deeply for one another. I had parents who were crazy about their
children. We loved one another. We laughed together. We spent time together. We protected each other. I meet so many of my students who never
experienced what I did. In fact, a good
chunk of them experience the complete opposite.
And each time, my heart breaks for them.
I wish they could experience a father like mine. I wish they could feel the love of a mother
like mine. My childhood was one of
dreams. Some people fantasize for a family
like mine.
So, for those who are convinced that most people choose
homosexuality due to a missing father figure or experienced sexual abuse,
please educate yourself. Ignorance is ugly.
And for those who do choose homosexuality as a result of these things, give
them compassion. Practice empathy. I invite you to love them.
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