“The 2 things we don’t discuss in polite society are religion and politics”

Southern Grandmas Everywhere

 

Yes, it’s true.  Southern dinner tables of yesteryear did not include religion and politics.  Except on Sunday’s of course, when the pastor’s sermon was always analyzed, and church attendance, or more likely the lack-thereof, were acceptable topics of conversation.  But never politics. Everyone was entitled to their own opinion and beliefs, and even though nobody spoke of them out loud, everybody seemed to know what the others were thinking.  An occasional yard sign, a bumper sticker, and men having conversations around cigarettes in the backyard let everyone know just how your family voted.

Fast forward to 2018.  Facebook. Twitter. Instagram.  Emails. CNN & FOX. David Muir on ABC (he’s my favorite).  Now everybody knows everything about everybody. We have a president that tweets in the middle of the night, and I firmly believe that every news outlet now has a Tweet Department, comprised of people whose entire job is to follow tweets from the president, other government officials, and celebrities.  My grandmother would not approve.

On August 6, 2018, at about 5:30 pm, I had heart attack #2.  I’m sure you’re now wondering what that has to do with politics and voting.    It sorta does, and it sorta doesn’t. Confused yet? Let me explain. I am a very strong-willed, opinionated, political person.  There aren’t many subjects about which I do not have an opinion, and a strong one at that. I am a diehard Democrat, or as my dear friend Sparkie referred to himself, a “yellow dog Democrat – I’d vote for a yellow dog before I’d vote for a Republican.”   I love that expression. And I have enjoyed over the past few years posting my opinions and beliefs about all things political on Facebook, basically stirring up a crock of poop among my wide variety of friends. I enjoy spirited debate, and I enjoyed a lot of it from my posts, but sometimes it went from spirited debate with me to my Facebook friends arguing with each other, which is how I learned where the ‘delete’ button is on Facebook. 

The morning I had my 2018 heart attack I had been the one arguing with a friend on Facebook.  We went back and forth a number of times, and several others became involved. I finally just stopped, hit the ‘delete’ button and moved on, but I was hot!  I didn’t understand how this person could believe the things he did, even more so how he could say those things to me. It was very disappointing and stressful.   Now did that cause my heart attack? No, not at all. A blood clot would be the culprit for that experience, but that part is a story for another time. But it did give me a benchmark time to think about how I handled myself in public forum discussions.  So I decided to stop posting political things on Facebook – well, most of the time anyway. Occasionally something would be just too good to let go, or I would just have to make a comment about something a friend had posted. I also learned where the ‘hide post’ button is on Facebook, and did it regularly.  

November 6, 2018 (aka tomorrow) is a big day for the United States of America.  It’s the day we exercise our constitutional right to vote for the man or woman who we feel will do the best job in the position for which they are running.  Some of us will vote blue, some of us will vote red. Some of us are sick of political ads, and I can surely say I am at the front of that line. But how to choose the right candidate for whom to vote?  A government teacher friend of mine once told me that when you choose a party or candidate you choose the person or group whose beliefs more greatly mirror your own beliefs than the other party. He continued by telling me how he shared that philosophy with his students, and how he encouraged them to be independent thinkers – and voters.  I often think of that, as the true blue Democrat that I am, just how I would align my beliefs to my party, and I often think about how it doesn’t align 100%. Does that make me a bad Democrat? No, it makes me human. Does that mean I’m secretly a Republican at heart? Oh hell no. But I do have my beliefs which reflect my values.

Education is important to me.  Our government needs to fully fund public education, and ease some of the regulations and paperwork that accompanies it.   I believe in civil rights for all, and, for obvious reasons, I am particularly passionate about LGBT rights. I believe we are a country of immigrants, and we need to continue to be more welcoming to those trying to find a better life.  I would classify myself as pro-choice, but never as pro-abortion. But that’s a story for another occasion. Do I want to pay more taxes? Absolutely not. Do I believe everyone should pay their fair share? Yes indeed. Do I want the economy to succeed?  I certainly do. I pride myself as being a Christian who loves Jesus, but I think church and state need to remain separate. And the list could go on and on and on.

So when we vote tomorrow, think about the values you hold dear, and the things important to you.  Don’t vote for a candidate just because somebody puts something snarky on Facebook about his or her opponent.  Don’t not vote for a candidate because of their gender, race, sexuality, gender expression, or anything that they cannot control.  A heart for service come in all shapes & sizes. Vote for the person who best represents your values. I have to admit I often question people when I don’t think their values or the vote match their life, but that’s my highly inquisitive, yet regularly tired, mind going 90 mph as usual.   But it’s truly none of my business, other than giving me something about which to ponder, and occasional heartburn.

So November 6, 2018 – aka tomorrow……..Just vote.  Just do it. If it’s raining – vote. None of us are going to melt.  If it’s cold – vote anyway. It’ll remind you to be thankful for the heater in the car you’re driving when you return to it.  If it’s a long line – stand in it and vote anyway. It’s your right to express your values, and not voting takes away your right to complain.  

 

Just vote.  But don’t talk about it at the dinner table on Sunday – you don’t want Grandma to disapprove.  

Sidney A. Neighbours

November 5, 2018

#tbt    Back in 2013, the Boy Scouts were in the news about allowing gay leaders & members.  These were my thoughts on the subject…..

 

On the wall in my office are several things of which I am proud, including diplomas with my bachelor’s and master’s degrees, pictures of my niece, and pictures of my beloved dog that passed away last year. But one of the items of which I am proudest is my Eagle Scout certificate. I was 17 years old when I received it, and the Court of Honor in which I received it was held at the church where I was raised. There are many reasons that I am proud of that accomplishment, but the greatest pride I feel is how passionately my father wanted me to achieve this honor. He was raised in the 1930’s and 1940’s and he didn’t have the opportunity to be in the Boy Scouts when he was growing up, although he longed to be a Scout. That Eagle certificate, exquisitely framed as a gift from my grandmother, is one of my most prized possessions. It’s one of my dad’s proudest moments as well.

I knew I was gay from a very young age. I knew I was different, given that I had “crushes” on other boys, as well as other “stereotypical likes and dislikes,” but when I joined the Boy Scouts that didn’t seem to matter. I worked hard to achieve the merit badges required to progress to Eagle Scout. I didn’t like camping (still don’t), but other than that aspect of scouting I was no different than any other boys in the troop. I learned to shoot both a gun and an arrow, and I even hit the bull’s-eye a few times. Being gay did not keep me from any part of scouting.

I have followed the recent news items in regards to the Boy Scouts’ acceptance of gay members and leaders with great interest. When I was in scouting, being out wasn’t an option, unfortunately, in the day, time, and community in which I lived. But now our young people are blessed to be able to say they are gay. Adults are as well, myself included. It breaks my heart to think the Boy Scouts of America have a written policy that prevents young men and capable leaders from being a part of their organization because they are gay. They use the portion of their Scout Law that includes “reverent” as their means for hate. As a Christian, I am thankful that John 3:16 does not include the phrase “except . . .” after “whosoever believeth in Him…” And they have had gay members all along, I am proof of that, and I am, and always have been, a “reverent” man.

I am so pleased to hear the recent news that the Boy Scouts are reconsidering this policy. Inclusion of all people is such an important part of any organization. As I follow this story, it is my fervent hope that they will come to the realization that the best way they can be “reverent” is to accept all people, just like Jesus did.

I have been asked many times if I, like many other Eagle Scouts that are gay, was going to “send back” my Eagle Scout award in protest of the policy. Absolutely not. It is a great source of pride for me, as well as for my family, my dad in particular. And having that certificate on the wall reminds me, as well as those who see it, that it doesn’t matter whether or not a boy is gay, he can achieve anything he wants in Scouting. And in life.

Sidney A. Neighbours

January 30, 2013

“I’m going to slap the next person that says ‘God never gives you more than you can handle.’  At the rate He’s going, I’ll be able to bench press a Buick.”

 

There was a time in my life that I often said – actually regularly said – the quote above.  People mean well, including friends, family, & mere acquaintances, and often they just don’t know what to say.   So they say things that often resonate like fingernails across a chalkboard. This phrase was one of those things to me.  And it started in 2010.

 

I firmly believed that 2010 was the beginning of the end for me.  It seemed like a sad and unexplained turn of events would take all of my mental health, and perhaps my physical health as well.  It started in March when I lost my precious dog, Peaches, who had been my constant sidekick and best friend for 15 years. Her health declined for months, and I prayed that she would just go to sleep one night and I wouldn’t have to make “the decision.”  But that was not to be the case, and on March 30, 2010, I decided she had suffered enough. But that was the beginning of the suffering for me. I cried until I felt like I had no more tears, and I woke up screaming, looking for her. Because I couldn’t bear her not being with me in my current condominium, I bought a house and moved in June.  I thought this would “fix” everything, and it helped, but nothing was ever fixed. 

 

Later in 2010, my sister and niece were in a bad automobile accident.  It is nothing short of a miracle they survived, as the gas tank ruptured in the vehicle but my sister was able to steer the car off the road and out of the way of further oncoming traffic.  The car was leaking gas the entire way. One spark would have ignited a fireball of grave consequences. They were fortunate to only suffer bumps and bruises, and the young man who hit them was charged with reckless driving.  Being from a small town, we all knew the young man’s family, and that became a source of conflict. When you’re older and single, like me, siblings & their children have an even more special place in your heart, and that is the case for me with Joleen and Savannah.   But the “weight” God seemed to be adding to me continued to increase.

 

The night of the 2010 midterm elections was a rough night for us Democrats.  As I was disgustedly going upstairs to bed, my telephone rang. It was my best friend, Talmadge, who shared with me that the doctor had seen something suspicious on a recent kidney x-ray and he was going to have to have some extensive tests to determine what was happening.   His test on November 11 showed a tumor on his kidney, and on December 1, his kidney was removed. That was literally the beginning of the end for my dear friend, who had been my “chosen big brother” since I was a teenager. Talmadge was an only child, and his parents were in their late 80’s, so 2 other friends and I were his “chosen family” and took care of him until he died on May 12, 2011.   It was an incredibly emotional roller coaster ride, and one that took a seemingly irreversible toll on me in many different ways. And I remember as I stood by his casket in the visitation receiving line telling one of my other “chosen family” that “the next person that tells me that God never gives you more than you can hand, I am going to slap into the middle of next week.” I could barely take anymore.  

 

The remainder of 2011 wasn’t too peachy either.  I lost a dear friend in June, the patriarch of a family that is very special in my life.  In November, one of the teachers at my school didn’t report to work as usual, and when we contacted her family, they discovered that she had died of a heart attack as she was getting ready for work.  In June of 2012, I was suddenly demoted from my position of assistant principal at the school I loved, forced go go back to a classroom teacher, which took a monetary toll on me as well as a health toll.  Bench pressing a Buick seemed to be right around the corner.

 

The purpose of expressing these thoughts, however, isn’t to revisit all the drama and woes of my life, but to explain how my outlook on “bench pressing a Buick” has evolved over the years.  There have been challenges – drug addiction, a trip to rehab, 2 heart attacks, blood clots in my lungs, normal aging, family drama, the sagas of being a middle-aged gay man – but through it all, God has provided.  When He’s given me more than I could handle, He’s given me people and tools to carry me through. He’s given me an NA sponsor who gets me and helps me stay clean. He’s provided a Christian counselor/therapist who keeps me focused and puts mental health in perspective, keeping my toolbox full of strategies to get through.   He’s provided me a former colleague who became a great friend and always knows exactly what to say at the perfect moment I need to hear it. God knew I needed a pastor and He pointed me in the direction to find one, and he quickly became not only a pastor but a cherished friend. He provided a group of men, mostly much younger than me, at my stint in drug rehab that kept me going and got me through the days.  He’s given me a wonderful family. He’s given me friends that are “chosen family.” He’s given me strength to continue working to provide for my needs. It took 3 years after I lost my beloved Peaches, but he gave me Gunther – a wonderful dog that has become my companion and best buddy. He’s given me a toolkit that will last through eternity. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

 

So now my response to “the question” is…..

 

“Does God give me more than I can handle?   All the time.  But, thankfully, He gives me the people and tools to help me bench press that Buick.”

 

Sidney A. (Sid) Neighbours

October 12, 2018

 

“Just exactly who do you think you are?”

 

So who is this guy that has randomly started blogging?    I guess I better introduce myself. My name is Sidney A. Neighbours, but most everyone calls me Sid, at least until 1999.   That’s when a pretty little girl named Savannah, my first and only niece, arrived, and when she tried to say “Uncle Sidney” it came out “NeeNee.”   So she, along with the rest of my family and many of my friends, now call me NeeNee as well. I even have it on my car license plate.

 

I was born in 1964 to wonderful parents, Joyce and Marion Neighbours, and we lived in Windsor, Virginia, where they still reside today after nearly 60 years of marriage.  I was an only child the first 10 years of my life, when I was joined by my sister, Joleen Elaine Neighbours, who is now Dr. Joleen Elaine Neighbours. I was very blessed and had a very charmed childhood.  Although I never “wanted” for anything, the best blessing of all was the love, not the material things. I was blessed with living close to my maternal grandmother (Mema), great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, & cousins.   My dad’s family lived a few hours away, and we saw them fairly often. We had an unusually close neighborhood, mostly older couples whose children were already grown, so I became everybody’s little boy. I joined Boy Scouts when I was old enough, and became an Eagle Scout in 1982.  I graduated from Isle of Wight Academy in 1982 as well, having attended IWA all 12 years (Kindergarten hadn’t arrived yet).

 

We were regular church attenders – Baptist by denomination – although we really weren’t the type of Baptists that believe they are going to be the only ones in Heaven.  But we went to church with quite a few who thought that, and when I get there I hope most of them are on the other side of the golden streets. I was baptized on May 13, 1973.  My mother is the church organist, still is at age 81 and serving in her 68th year as organist.  She sees it as her way of serving God. My dad was treasurer for many years and still is a Deacon and Sunday School secretary. I began playing for church when I was 14, first for Bible School and as a substitute, eventually becoming the full-time pianist.  I played the piano at that church until I was 31 – but that’s a whole different story. I started taking piano lessons when I was 6, hated to practice and stopped, but when my family realized I could play by ear thus I restarted piano lessons.  In addition to playing the piano for church, I eventually became musical director of a theater company, played for many theater productions throughout the year, played for many weddings, funerals, etc, etc, etc….

 

Oh……and I”m gay.  

 

Being gay does not define me.  It is a part of my life – not a choice – but the way God made me.  I am unanimous in my belief on this. I am the poster child for being born gay.  I had a huge crush on male tv stars when I was 6 years old. As I got older, I loved watching basketball and going to be beach so I could watch other guys in shorts (still do, it’s one of my favorite things to do!!!).  I had my first crush on another boy (that wasn’t a TV star) when I was 12. The problem was that “how to be gay” is not a subject taught in school. And I dared not tell anyone, although it certainly was not the secret I thought it was.  I was bullied in school, called names and hit by other students, both boys and girls. I never told my parents the real reason I came home with bruises, and they never questioned why – it’s just boys being boys.  I grew up in a different time and place from today.

 

When I graduated from high school, I attended Old Dominion University.  I commuted from home, which was a huge mistake. I missed out on so much college life, but I didn’t think I was ready to leave home, so I commuted.  I got my BS degree in 4 years (miraculously) and began working in the local bank, where I rose in rank very quickly (too quickly in retrospect). After 14 years in banking, I switched careers to education.  I’ve served in several positions during my career, and I am planning to retire at the end of this school year. I obtained my Master’s Degree in Education, also from ODU, in 2004 at age 40. In addition, I have over 30 graduate credit hours in special education beyond my master’s degree.  I am now taking classes to obtain my Funeral Director’s license to be my retirement occupation.  I am a compassionate and caring person, and I am told this will be a great fit for me.  

 

I am the organist and choir director for Windsor Congregational Church (United Church of Christ) in Windsor, Virginia.  I have been there for 23 years now, and it has been a joyful experience. I began there immediately after my departure from the Baptist church, but that’s a story for another time.  

 

So that’s a brief “history of me.”  I have lots of stories to tell, and I’ve decided this is the venue to tell them.   A lot of them will revolve around being gay, many around music & playing for various events, many of them will be family-related.  Some will be just anecdotes that come to mind.  You’ll meet some interesting characters along the way. But in all of my stories, even though some may be sad or infuriating, the bottom line will always be that I am a blessed man with a loving family and friends galore who get me through trials and tribulations.   And stories untold die with us.

 

So now….let me officially introduce myself ….

 

I am Sid, aka Neenee.  I am a Christian, son, brother, uncle, grandchild, nephew, cousin, friend, doggie-daddy,  gay, educator, musician, pianist, florist, drug addict in recovery (bet you didn’t see that one coming), comedian in my own mind anyway, smartass, tall, reasonably good looking, have white hair (and proud of every one), and a great life. I look forward to sharing that life with you.   

 

Sidney A. Neighbours

October 22, 2018

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton