Kergan Edwards-Stout's Blog, page 25

Sh*t My Kids Say

For any parent, having a sense of humor is helpful in making it through a day with sanity intact. For my partner Russ and I, given our challenges as gay parents, it is absolutely essential. Luckily, our boys Mason (11) and Marcus (9) say so much funny stuff that it is usually easy to find laughter in our everyday life. Here are just a few exchanges from the past year, pulled from my facebook updates:

Marcus (singing): "I hate you, you hate me, let's get together and kill Barney…"

Me: "What did Barney ever do to you?"

Marcus: "He stabs people. He's friends with Chucky."

Me: "What?!?"

Marcus: "It's true. I heard it on the news."

Marcus: "If you have a wife, you mostly have to listen to her. Girls are bossy, right?"

Me (in Cockney accent): "It's time to get ye to school, Harry Potter!"

Marcus: "Dad, he doesn't speak French…"

Me, scoffing , to our 11-year-old: "Mason, you don't want to be popular…"

Mason: "Yes, I do. I'm on that trajectory."

Marcus, to me: "Babies are cryin'–Get a move on, Mama!"

Russ, as Marcus yawns: "You look sleepy."

Marcus: "No, I just need oxygen."

Marcus, to me: "You can't get it, cuz you're old."

While at Subway Sandwiches…

Me: "Marcus, don't play with your privates."

Marcus: "But they're jiggily!"

Marcus: "Why does a Pirate say 'Arr'?"

Me: "Why?"

Marcus: "Cause he's singing ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVW–No, wait. ABCDEF–"

Me: "Are you being a musician, Sweetie?"

Marcus: "No, I'm just doin' music."

Marcus: "I'm glad Butterfingers were invented."

Marcus: "You've just gotta let me stay up until 10! There is an important new show on tonight!"

Me: "What is it?"

Marcus: "My Babysitter is a Vampire!"

Me: "How did that pine cone get into our garage?"

Mason: "Trust me, Dad, there are lots of ways."

Marcus, in his sleep: "(Name unintelligible) is NOT a Piggy! Well, he kinda is, but not that much."

Me: "How many Red Vines did you take?"

Marcus: "None."

"Is that the truth?"

"Yes."

"You promise?"

"Yes."

"So you want to go to bed?"

Silence.

"How many Red Vines did you take?"

"One."

"You only took one Red Vine?"

"Yes…" Pause. "But not tonight."

Deep sigh, from me.

"Okay, Marcus–How many Red Vines did you take?"

Pause.

"Three."

Another pause.

Me: "I'm going to turn off the Wii."

Pause.

Marcus: "Maybe five."

Marcus, on Cowboys & Aliens: "The goodest part of the movie was the bad words."

Marcus: "Okay, people–who is lookin' for a boyfriend, cuz I am available."

I bought Marcus a cool hoodie tonight, but he was very upset that the arms were a bit long. A little while later…

Marcus: "Daddy, do sleeves grow???"

Marcus: "Guess what?"

Me: "What?"

Marcus: "Chicken Butt."

Mason: "Marcus, you are seriously off-topic."

Marcus: "Daddy, can I have the password for your laptop?"

Me: "Marcus, if you don't get dressed right now, you won't be able to buy Candy-grams at school."

Marcus: "They stopped selling them yesterday, so I don't have to obey you–Sucka!"

Marcus: "Daddy, you know when I say I hate you that I really love you–Right?"

And, just this morning, before compiling this post–

Marcus: "I'm a sidekick."

Truer words have never been spoken.

 

This post originally was presented on the Huffington Post.

Gratitude–and Giveaways!

First, a sincere "thank you" to all who have helped spread my open letter to Rick Santorum far and wide. It is truly amazing how something written as a late night rant, fueled by both anger and chardonnay, can somehow find its way to the Huffington Post – and beyond! I appreciate the countless notes and comments of support.

The fact is, I love being a dad. While parenting isn't for everyone, for those for whom it is, it can be the best reward life offers. I am eternally grateful to all who have helped get my message out there–that every kid deserves a home, food, and love.  Where it comes from isn't as important as that it comes at all…

Secondly, this week, several sites are offering Giveaways of my novel, Songs for the New Depression, which–I'm happy to announce–has been shortlisted for the 2011 Indie Lit Awards.  All of these are great sites, worth checking out, and I hope you'll enter the contests!

Ending Wednesday: The Bilerico Project, a fantastic LGBT news/advocacy website, has three paperback copies–and not many entries yet, so that may be a good bet!
Ending Thursday: Deep Dish, a fun gay culture site, has two paperbacks up for grabs.
Ending Sunday: Goodreads, a great site for all things bookish, is offering an autographed paperback.
Ending Wednesday January 18: Bookish Ardour, a book blog focusing on LGBT, speculative fiction, classics, and more, is offering 3 e-books!

If you haven't yet, please consider sharing my letter to Rick Santorum with your friends and family. I firmly believe that, together, we can create real change in the world, and make this a place where all are treasured.

On The Bilerico Project, a "Songs for the New Depression" Giveaway!

A terrific LGBT news and advocacy website, The Bilerico Project, is offering three copies of my novel, Songs for the New Depression, in a Giveaway Contest.  Check it out today, as it runs only through Wednesday January 11th, and enter in the comments to win!

 

An Open Letter to Rick Santorum

Dear Mr. Santorum,

You were recently quoted as saying that a jailed parent would be better for a child than being raised by a same-sex couple.  You noted that, if a same-sex couple were to raise a child, they would be "robbing children of something they need, they deserve, they have a right to."  You continued, asserting that "You may rationalize that that isn't true, but in your own life and in your own heart, you know it's true."

Mr. Santorum, the only reason my partner Russ and I even have one of our children is because that boy's birth parents thought it appropriate, when he was a mere six months old, to take him to a crack house, which was then raided by police.  He was promptly placed into foster care, and numerous attempts were made to reunite him with his birth parents.  However, as one was incarcerated due to attempted murder and the other would not submit to drug testing, that was difficult to achieve.  In fact, when they placed this boy into his birth mother's arms, he would burst into tears.  Further, prior to his crack house adventure, his birth mother found time to pierce both his ears, but could not see fit to give him adequate nutritional care, nor to fix his club feet.

Our other child, in case you are wondering, had a much easier start in life.  His birth mother recognized, while still pregnant, that her situation was not the optimum one in which to raise a child, and reached out to us, two white gay men, to whom she entrusted her African American baby.  My bond with her was so strong that she allowed me to be in the delivery room when my son was born, and I am forever grateful for the gift she gave us.

Apparently, though, you feel that you know better, and that her long-considered, heartbreaking choice was not the best option.  Would you have preferred that she have  instead struggled to raise her son anyway, when she fully realized she was ill-equipped to do so?  Would you also have preferred that my other son have remained with his birth parents, given their ongoing issues with the law, drug use, and poor parenting decisions?

Perhaps, Mr. Santorum, you are merely indulging in a hypothetical discussion of "what is best for the child."  I'd be more than happy to have just such a discussion, once every child who needs a home has one.  Then we can talk gay households versus straight, and how all studies confirm that it is not who is in the household that matters, so much as how a child is raised, loved, and taught.  You may also be unaware that there are approximately 100,000 foster care children awaiting adoption, and one study estimates that over 2 million LGBT individuals have considered adoption, but many cannot, given their discriminatory state laws.  Do the math, Mr. Santorum.  Give each kid a home, then let's talk about "best."

Ultimately, Mr. Santorum, I'm sorry if our parenting skills or situation don't meet your rigid requirements of what you deem "appropriate."  Neither my partner nor I are perfect, nor have we ever claimed to be.  We've made mistakes during our 12 years of parenting, and will likely make many more over the years to come.  Nevertheless, I'm happy to report that youngest child, who could barely walk when we first got him due to the surgery needed to correct his club feet, is now an avid dancer and terrific runner. This same child, whom first greeted us with a vacant stare and could hardly communicate, is now is a happy, lively, and chatty 9-year old, whom we can barely shut up.

Mr. Santorum, I'm sorry if you feel I'm not a good parent, but I'm hopeful that one day our boys will disagree. So, in summary, please just go f$%# yourself.

Sincerely,

Kergan Edwards-Stout

P.S. I sincerely apologize for the harsh language, but given that Google defines you as being a "frothy mix", hopefully you'll understand where I'm coming from. God bless you and yours.

"Songs for the New Depression" – Finalist for the 2011 Indie Lit Awards!

A special thank you to all of the passionate readers who nominated Songs for the New Depression for the Indie Lit Awards!  While folks often say "it is an honor just to be nominated" and don't mean it, I truly do.  So many of you took the time to vote and support the book, and your generous efforts will mean that other readers will now discover it, for which I am very grateful.  This book was a labor of love, paying tribute to those that came before, and I appreciate your efforts in getting the word out. Reading can be transformational, and my hope is that Songs will help create change, opening hearts and minds.

Thank you all!

Kergan

Review of SONGS FOR THE NEW DEPRESSION

Many thanks to Amos Lassen, a venerate reviewer, for his lovely review of my book, Songs for the New Depression.

Here is his review, in full:

Reliving the Past

by Amos Lassen

We all face periods where we just want everything to be finished and then we realize that life is meant to be lived and enjoyed even with the trials we face. Gabriel Travers is one such person— it is in his head that death is coming soon even though his doctor tells him that he is doing okay. Gabe does not like what he sees in the mirror and thinks that his best days are gone. When he was younger, he had the world at his feet. Everything was wonderful until he tried to make it matter and things went terribly wrong.

Gabriel is now almost 40 years old and he knows that he has to work on himself; to chase the bad feelings and demons away. It is time to take his life back as he realizes that it is all too short and there is no point in being unhappy. Edwards-Stout has written a wonderful book in which he takes on AIDS and depression from a personal point of view and he does so with great style and wit.

Gabriel is a character with flaws and in that; he is like so many of us. He is a gay "everyman" who is in search of himself. He looks at himself with respect to certain happenings in his life as he journeys looking for love and self-acceptance.

The author tells us Gabriel's story in reverse chronological order. We start with him musing about AIDS and go back to the time when all was good and he was at peace and happy. Gabriel is a unique character—we both love and hate him and most of all see ourselves in him. His life is a struggle—a quest for understanding.

Like life itself, Gabriel's story is not always happy and we can identify with the way we face occurrences and how they affect us. The themes dealt with include love, friendship, family and trauma. Gabe remembers being happy in high school with Keith, his first love and Keith understood him. As he approaches his fortieth year (remember how you felt then?), he does not think that he will actually celebrate it. His attitude has cost him to lose friends. Not quite sure how to deal with himself, he nevertheless realizes that he has to do so. His self-esteem was stripped from him when he was a young high school student and the effect has stayed with him. By listening to Bette Midler singing "Songs for the New Depression", he tries to find a way to be at peace and we want that for him also.

This is Edwards-Stout's debut novel and he should be quite proud of what he has given us. Mixing caustic humor with the tribulations of life shows us that with hope and hard work, we can overcome but it does not happen easily.

The Most Humiliating Thing I've Ever Done: My New Years Resolution

This may be the stupidest thing I've ever done — which would really be saying something — or it may be friggin' brilliant!

I've always been self-conscious about my body.  Despite the assurances of my straight female friends that "You have a great body!", in the gay world, I am fat.  Even in my twenties, just a bit less than toned, I was called "Pudgy" by the evil-ex of a guy I was dating.  Summertime trips to the beach always find me sucking in my gut, which becomes much harder when you then have to bend over and pick up your child from the turbulent surf.

I do work out.  Maybe not as often as I should, but fairly regularly.

I do eat healthy.  Until recently, I was eating almost exclusively vegetarian.  But vegetarians can still eat potato chips and drink chardonnay, so therein lies my problem.

I love food.  I love wine.  And I've always said it was about "moderation."  But as I grow older, the moderate consumption of these foods and drink doesn't seem to love me back.  What was manageable in my youth has turned on me, now that I'm on the downside of my forties.  And I'm tired of it.

I want to be sexy daddy.  I don't want these aches and pains.  I want to have more energy, more pep, less lethargy.

And so, this gigantic step and new-found commitment to better health, complete with a challenge:

January 1, 2012: 187 lbs.

For the next year, on the first of each month, I'm going to post a photo of myself online, along with my weight, for the whole world to see.  I'm going to increase and diversify my workouts, making them a priority.  I'm going to take my vitamins daily, watch my food and calorie intake, and hopefully see some positive results.

Or else you're all going to get one full year of my fat photos.

Of course, my goal is that, in making my resolution so public, you'll help keep me honest.  I sincerely hope that, after the first month's photo in my undies, I'll be further compelled to kick my resolution into high gear.

Usually, I make several resolutions, but this one feels substantially enormous that it alone should suffice.  Plus, with good health, other benefits of mind & spirit will surely follow.

So check back with me every month, as I go from Pudgy to Pectoral.  Cheer me on.  Make fun of my gut.  Keep me honest.  And let's create some honest-to-God change!

Happy Humiliating New Year!

Kergan

Need a Little Fast 'n Easy LOVE!

Okay, I just found out about a competition for Indie books, and need your help to get Songs for the New Depression nominated.  All you need to do is go to the site (http://indielitawards.wordpress.com/g...), enter the book title, my name "Edwards-Stout, Kergan", and your email!  You don't need to have read it to nominate–the more nominations, the better!

But hurry–these need to be in by 12/31 to qualify.

So, show me a little love and nominate the book–RIGHT NOW! 

Dear Readers: My Christmas Gift to You…

Dear Readers,

Since launching this blog and releasing my book, I've been touched by such love and support from you that I felt it essential to give you something, in honor of both our connection and this season I hold so dear.  The following short story was written rather quickly several years ago, serving as a last minute present, and then promptly forgotten.  It is but a trifle, but rediscovering it, I thought the themes of family, love, support, and consideration were a very apt message which conveyed how I'm feeling about this new phase of my life and my relationship with you.

Sometimes filled with laughter, sometimes joy, sometimes a bit sad, and other times even a little scary, this has been the journey of a lifetime — made easier by both your support and in knowing that this is exactly where I need to be.

Happy Holidays, to you and yours,

Kergan

The Fourth Christmas

A short story by Kergan Edwards-Stout

 

Andrew woke with a start, his hand on the space David usually occupied.  He glanced to the bathroom door, but no light was on.  Only slightly relieved, Andrew remembered that they'd agreed to this separation, the first of their life together, saying that it was "for the best".  Now, alone in the darkness, Andrew wasn't so sure.

He lay back down with a sigh, too wound up to sleep.  Nearby, Roxie, their Springer Spaniel, sputtered as she chased rabbits in her dreams.  David had insisted on naming her after the character in Chicago who kills her lover and winds up in jail, singing and dancing all the way.  Though Andrew couldn't see how that made it an appropriate name for a dog, he'd agreed anyway.  Who, after all, could turn down David?

It wasn't that David was stunningly handsome.  In fact, most people would not have seen anything physically attractive about either man, and yet David and Andrew found only beauty in each others countenance.  Andrew would spend hours staring at David's moonlit, sleeping frame, memorizing each curve and crevice.  Later, when he'd notice for the first time a line that had obviously been there a while, Andrew would wonder, "Where did that come from?"  It was amazing that something he knew so well could continue to surprise him.

 

They'd met quite literally by accident, three Christmases prior.  Each had been at Darby's pond, skating freely despite the freezing winds coming off the Lakes.  Andrew was concentrating intently, trying to learn to skate backwards, when David swept by with a "whoosh!", sending Andrew sprawling.

Though David had denied it, Andrew continued to believe that it had not been Fate that had brought the two together, but that David had purposely bumped into him.  For Andrew knew, when David had pulled him up onto his feet and looked into his eyes, that David was the one he would spend his life with.  And that David was far too collected for this to have been anything but deliberate.

And so it was with each step of their relationship — part Fate, part careful calculation.  Opportunities arose, and the two navigated them together, each relying on the other for guidance and support.  When the opening came for David's promotion, together they decided it would be wise to take it.  And when with the new job came the question of relocating, Andrew and David decided that they would do it together.  And when the chance arose for them to adopt little Tyler, again they chose together.  And they were happy that they had.

It had not always been easy.  Decisions were made that both would later question and revisit.  What if Andrew hadn't cut his mother out of his life?  Would she have finally changed?  What if they had been more secretive about their love for each other?  Would each have been farther along in their respective careers?  But though the questions continued, inevitably each would agree that they'd chosen wisely, and chosen well.

 

It was their second Christmas together when Tyler arrived.  Blond and blue eyed, he was physically different from his adoptive parents, but very similar in temperament.  Even-keeled and gentle, Tyler brought joy to their lives in a way they'd never imagined possible.  How was it possible that one single tiny being could so alter your very existence?  And all for the better?

Unfortunately, not everyone had seen it that way.  For Andrew's mother, Natalie, Tyler had been the last straw.  It was one thing to let gays around children, but to have a child of their own?  What horribly perverted scenes would that child witness?

Natalie did everything she could to dissuade them from adopting.  She pleaded, she cried, she yelled — to no avail.  It was only when she began personally attacking them that Andrew finally responded.  He told her she was not welcome in their home any longer — to leave, right then and there.  If one day she came to see things differently, well, they would talk.  But until then…

That Christmas had been the embodiment of "bittersweet".  Joy with their new family, sorrow with the old.  Was this what life was?  A series of trade-offs?  Of choices?  Did anyone ever have it all?

 

They'd had Tyler almost a year before they noticed it.  It had seemed impossible, at first.  But specialists were seen and conferred.  Tests were done.  Tensions flared.  And yet everyone agreed:  Tyler was going deaf.

There was an operation that could be done, covered by their insurance.  Still, there was some risk involved.

Andrew and David found themselves, for the first time ever, at odds.  No one desires their child to have any difficulties.  Impairments.  No one asks for that.  It's simply fact.  If it happens, you deal with it.  But that didn't make it any easier.

So, as they had many times before, Andrew and David talked the matter over and decided.  If there was even the remotest chance that it could improve Tyler's life, they would do it.

The night in the hospital was endless.  A dog-eared copy of Time and a Snickers were all they had to sustain them.

When it was finally over, Andrew and David held each other close and cried.

 

Roxie jumped up and down excitedly, pawing the side of the bed until Andrew woke.  A gentle knock on the door pulled him out of his stupor.

"Yes?"

"Wake up, dear," sang David's mother.  "It's almost time, you know."

Andrew looked at the alarm clock, dead.  "Shit!"

"Merry Christmas to you too."

"Merry Christmas, Madeline!  I'll be down in a minute."  Andrew jumped out of bed, opening the door a crack to let Roxie out before heading into the bathroom.

 

Later that evening, all were assembled in the living room.  Andrew looked around fondly at the people gathered.  This diverse group, each so different and unique, was his family, and he loved them very much.  Was it Fate that had brought them all together?  Or careful calculation?

David walked over to Andrew, arms outstretched, and they took each others hand.  Crossing to the fireplace, Andrew and David looked into each others eyes, and as the fire behind them flickered brightly, their family and friends watching, Andrew and David exchanged publicly the vows they had spoken so often in their heads.  Their vows of love and lust, understanding and support, trust and faith, commitment and caring, and the vow to never again spend another night apart.

And as Andrew and David spoke, carefully and lovingly, the glass ornaments on the tree danced with life, Madeline nestled her head on her husband's shoulder, and Roxie the musical-comedy dog chased after Tyler as he laughed and giggled, joyously zooming his new fire engine around the room.

Imagine the World Without…

As I wrote previously, this world would look vastly different were it not for the countless varied contributions of LGBT folks.  Help me educate and change hearts and minds by following me on Twitter.com/edwards-stout and retweeting my #rethinkgay #imagineworldwithout tweets.

Together, we can make the world a better place!

Imagine the world without the Sistine Chapel… Michelangelo = Gay. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine the world without the art of Francis Bacon… Gay. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine the 80′s without the song TAINTED LOVE… Soft Cell lead Marc Almond = Gay. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine the world without the film GIANT… Writer Edna Ferber and star Rock Hudson = Gay. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine the roaring 20′s without Josephine Baker and her banana dress… Bi. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine the world without the MONA LISA…  DaVinci = Gay. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine the cabaret world without the singing and style of Bobby Short… Gay. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine Olympic diving without Greg Louganis @greglouganis or Matthew Mitcham @matthew_mitcham … Gay. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine the world without the poetry of Lord Byron… Gay. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine the world without NIGHT AND DAY… Cole Porter = Gay. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine Robert Schuler without the Crystal Cathedral… Architect Philip Johnson = Gay. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine the world without REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE. James Dean and Sal Mineo reportedly were gay… #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine tennis without legends Billie Jean King or Martina Navratilova… Lesbian.#rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine the world without civil rights leader Bayard Rustin… Gay. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine the world without "West Side Story"-Entire creative team was gay! #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine SILENCE OF THE LAMBS without Jodie Foster… Lesbian.  #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine the world without AMADEUS… Lead Tom Hulce = Gay. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Imagine the holidays without THE NUTCRACKER SUITE… Composer Tchaikovsky = Gay. #rethinkgay #imaginetheworldwithout

Follow me on Twitter and help educate and inspire!