Author: raybarnhart1968

What Susan Said

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1072354In the summer of 1992, I worked at a summer camp in Maine. In the first few days of being at the camp, I fell into a friendship with another counselor I’ll call Steven. Steven and I became fast friends, both Midwestern, both religious, both bespectacled. Steven was 19 and I was 22.

That summer, there was a Rich Mullins song that I often listened to on my CD Walkman called What Susan Said. It starts off, “Two lonely-eyed boys in a pick-up truck
And they’re drivin’ through the rain and the heat
And their skin’s so sweaty they both get stuck
To the old black vinyl seats
And it’s Abbott and Costello meet Paul and Silas
It’s the two of us together and we’re puttin’ on the mileage…” I felt like Rich Mullins had written this song just for me and Steven. We’d borrow his friend’s pickup and we’d go for drives. One day off, we drove from Maine, through New Hampshire, into Vermont and back to camp, talking about the kind of things two people talk about when their friendship is new. Over the course of two weeks, I felt like he was the best friend I’d ever had. I was, at this point, ostensibly straight. We talked about girls and God and I talked a lot about how I’d been a youth minister, just less than a year before. But one night, when we were sitting on the roof of the main bunk house, I told him something that had burdened me. I told him that I thought I was gay. He was the third person I ever told. He told me that he’d kind of been wondering if maybe I might be. Earlier in the summer, he told me that he’d had a friend who was bisexual and the way I’d asked a lot of questions about that guy stuck in his mind. When he did not freak out over the first piece of information, I told him that I thought I was in love with him. He was very quick to tell me that he was straight, that I knew that he liked Claire (one of the other counselors). He also started to cry. He told me that he thought I just wanted to be his friend. I don’t remember exactly how the conversation played out, but at the end, I did think that we would remain friends. As it turned out, we never really talked at length again. He called his mother to tell her about it and she told him that I was one of those gays that preyed on young men. (Again, he was 19, I was 22.) For the rest of the summer, he kept his distance. If the Rich Mullins song had affected me one way before my confession to Steven, I clung to it that much more after our friendship was severed. I’d listen to the song as I lay in bed at night, hoping and praying that I would either not be gay or that Steven would love me.

As it came to pass, neither prayer came true. When camp ended, I moved back to New York and began the process of coming out to myself. Steven was the last straight I guy that I fell for.

Rich Mullins was a singer that I saw a lot of when I was growing up. He would be at week-long youth conferences I attended, so besides being on stage, I witnessed the way he interacted with others. Long before I heard What Susan Said, before he even wrote it, I thought that perhaps Rich and I had something in common. (I have no validation of my theory.)
I’ve attached a YouTube video of the song. I’d hoped to find a version of Rich singing it in concert instead of the generic video I’m posting. If you ever attended a Rich Mullins concert, you know he had a gift. He was funny and serious, humble and arrogant, simple and erudite. There is another line in the song about how love is found in the things we have given up more than in the things we kept. I often wondered and still wonder if Rich Mullins had a Steven in his life. Someone must have inspired such an intimate song.

Years have passed since that summer. Rich Mullins died in 1997 in a tragic car accident. Some would think it ironic that a Christian song would have played such a reflective part in my own coming out process. But when I hear the song, it takes me back to those days when I was on the precipice of my journey to become the person I am today. And Steven, I sometimes wonder what happened to him, but I hope that if I ever come into his mind, as the final words of “our” song say, I hope he’ll have the strength to just remember, I’m still his friend.

A Boy and His Dog

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20130818-140207.jpgWhen I was ten years old, something happened on a family trip that changed the course of my entire life. Are you hooked yet? My uncle’s dog had recently given birth to puppies a few weeks before our visit and when we visited my uncle’s family, I got to play with the puppies. Of course, I begged my parents to keep one of them. Of course, they demurred initially and no surprise here, eventually they relented. While there are people who would say I always got my way when I was little, the truth is both my parents were as charmed by one of the pups as I was. When we left Colorado a few days later, we had an extra companion, the puppy who would come to be known as Buford Jake, B.J. for short. It’s a familiar story and a happy story. Buford Jake became this boy’s best friend.

Just yesterday, a friend of mine posted a picture of himself in his teens with what I assume was his childhood dog. It hit me, there’s just something special about a picture of a boy and his dog, so I composed an album. Some pics are of people I know, some are famous paintings or photographs, there’s even a little beefcake. My favorite, though, is the one of Eric and Millie that I took not long after we started dating. From the minute Millie met Eric, the dog who is not easily won over was easily won over. And now, with Ricky, we are four, two boys, two dogs: a family.

Second Thoughts

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1347469654_oprah-winfrey-jane-fonda-441Last night, after I had written my most recent post, You Wouldn’t Even Dream That You Could Dream of a Moment Like This, I hesitated before clicking, ‘Publish.’  I wrestled with this feeling that here I was, taking the words of a black man who was talking about an experience that essentially belonged to a specific group of people, African Americans, and making it about me, a white male.  

On one hand, I’m a blogger, that’s what bloggers do, make everything about themselves.  They aspire to do it in a way that makes people see themselves in what’s been written, but there is a self-absorption inherent and even necessary in blogging. Last night, I wondered if I was making a mistake by writing about this quote in the way that I did.  Was I misinterpreting what Eugene Allen said?  Was there enough width to his comment that it could potentially inspire anyone who ever struggled with the idea of a dream being so unrealistic (at a certain vantage point) that one can’t see it as a possibility? 

Because I am obsessed with all thing Oprah, I woke up to an article on Yahoo about Oprah saying she was sorry that the recent Swiss store incident has turned into the international story.  It seems that in July, Oprah was in Zurich for Tina Turner’s wedding.  She went into a store and did not receive the customer service she hoped to receive.  She talked about the experience on a entertainment news show, while promoting The Butler and the story blew up.  The woman at the store retaliated with her own interview saying, “I don’t know why she is making these accusations.  She is so powerful and I am just a shop girl.”  Who really knows how the exchange went down.  Everyone has their side of any story and usually both people bear some culpability when bad behavior happens.  Could racial prejudice have played a part in this exchange?  Absolutely.  When I heard about the incident initially, I thought, oh, I’m sure it’s the shop girls fault.  You KNOW how Europeans are!  

If anyone was offended by my last post, I do apologize.  If anyone read it and thought, you don’t understand what it means to be black, you’re right, I don’t.  Sometimes I THINK I do, but ultimately, I don’t understand what it means to be black.  There is a saying that there is a black woman inside the soul of every gay man.  It’s glib, but I also think it’s kind of true.  I’ll never forget watching Fame and thinking that more than anyone, I wanted to be Coco.  I still want to be Coco.  (Arch your back a little, Coco.  Smile for me.)  I certainly don’t identify all that much with straight white males, I think nearly every one of my 73 blog posts affirms that statement.  If I am writing in a public forum, I am asking to be judged by words and my actions.  I hope I never come off as someone who sees himself as the expert about anything. I want to be part of the conversation, the dialogue. And if you are reading this, annoyed or not, and you read my last post, annoyed or not, AND you did not know who Eugene Allen was before you read my last post, I do feel that on some level, I succeeded because I’m really glad you know more about Eugene Allen. I’m also glad that, warts and all, you know a little more about me.

You Wouldn’t Even Dream That You Could Dream of a Moment Like This

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images-2Today, I was watching Oprah’s Next Chapter, and Oprah was interviewing Lee Daniels, Forest Whitaker and David Oyelowo about their upcoming film, The Butler.  I can’t wait to see it and not just because it’s Oprah’s first movie in 15 years. (And not to mention Jane Fonda as Nancy Reagan!) I can’t make it through the trailer without tearing up, so I can imagine how the entire movie will affect me.  

The movie is loosely based on the life of an African American man named Eugene Allen who worked at the White House for eight different presidents, initially washing dishes and stocking cabinets, but ultimately rising to the position of maître d’hôtel.  He was invited to the President Obama’s inauguration and when interviewed by The Washington Post, he said, “I never would have believed it, in the 1940s and 1950s, there were so many things in America you just couldn’t do. You wouldn’t even dream that you could dream of a moment like this.”  

This post is not about politics or whether you think Barack Obama is doing a good job as a president. I myself am not writing about race, I do not purport to be an expert on the topic. I actually feel clumsy talking about it, even a little. It’s just that ever since I watched Oprah read this quote, it’s all I’ve thought about. We all dream. Sometimes the dreams are big, sometimes they are small, sometimes the dreams affect many, sometimes the dreams are only personal. But we all have dreams and buried under all the stuff that fills our brain, we also have dreams that we don’t even acknowledge, even to ourselves. Perhaps that is out of fear of disappointment or fear of failure or fear of not being worthy.  So, as a suggestion, tonight as you lay your head on your pillow, close your eyes and ponder your dreams. Spend a moment thinking about Eugene Allen or other people whose lives have inspired you. And ask yourself what is the dream that you would not dare to dream.

Roddy McDowall’s Home Movies

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Yesterday, Eric came home from work and asked me, “Have you seen those Roddy McDowall home movies that are on YouTube?”  I told him I had not, I’d never even heard of them.  Then I went to YouTube, did a search for “Roddy McDowall home movies” and thus, uncovered a treasure.  These videos, 22 in all, are a very glamorous, gorgeous, sexy, intimate glimpse into the lives of his friends.  Most of the shorts were filmed at Malibu beach house parties in the summer of ’65.  Some of the videos annotate who is in the movie, but part of the fun is watching, trying to determine who is who.  The who’s who includes Natalie Wood, Jane Fonda, Rock Hudson, Anthony Perkins, Lauren Bacall, Tuesday Weld, Paul Newman, Samantha Eggar, Lee Remick, Sal Mineo, Christopher Plummer, Elizabeth Ashley, Suzanne Pleshette, just to name a few.

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I think Roddy McDowall had a cool career.  Not only did he get to play some of the best character roles, he also was an accomplished photographer.  He published several coffee table books that were filled with black and white portraits he’d taken of his famous friends.  IG6412-1
I’ve only reposted one of the YouTube videos, but as you can see, there are several to watch. They all harken us back to another, simpler sun-kissed time. One biography I read said that Roddy McDowall was considered “Hollywood’s Best Friend.” Watching the videos, and seeing the way his friends smile and laugh and pout and flirt when they see the camera is on them, I wholeheartedly agree.

James Baldwin

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James-Baldwin-New-Orleans-1963So, if you and I have had an actual face to face conversation in the last few months, you might know that I’m reading the works of James Baldwin right now. I started with Another Country, then Go Tell it on the Mountain, then most recently, Giovanni’s Room.

I think he’s amazing. He wrote honestly and bravely about race and religion and homosexuality in the 50’s and 60’s, when barely anyone was writing about even one of those themes and he was writing about all three. There is so much tension in his novels and yet, the villain on page 43 is the person you’re most invested in on page 44. He understood that yin and yang of human behavior.

One of his most difficult characters is the father in Go Tell it on the Mountain, who was based on his own father. Not long ago, I watched an interview with Baldwin where he described his father this way: “He could not bend, he could only be broken.” I’ve carried that thought with me for a few days now, so I thought I would share it with you.

Baldwin grew up in a conservative church environment. He did not consider himself to be religious in his adulthood, but that Faith of his youth kept a hold on him his entire life. I’ve posted another, short youtube video of him singing “Precious Lord, take my Hand.” He had a beautiful voice. A beautiful voice in every way.

My Mother is Irrepressible

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Irrepressible
This post is not about my mother, although to be honest, she is a little irrepressible. When I was a freshman at Bible college, my favorite class was (no surprise here) English Comp. It was taught by a woman who was effortlessly chic, no small feat for a professor at a small Midwestern Bible college campus. I remember writing my first paper hoping, praying that I would impress her with my writing. This post isn’t about her, either.

I remember the first day that that professor stood in front of us with graded papers in hand. She told us that she was going to read the best paper from that particular assignment, the best out of all of her classes. She told us the name of the student, a girl who was in a different class, a girl named Katie Bunton. She wrote a paper entitled “My Mother is Irrepressible.” Mrs. Stark raved about how well-crafted it was, how she’d she started with the line, my mother is irrepressible and then told story after story about this woman, ending each story with that same refrain.

I remember listening to Mrs. Stark read the essay, thinking, argh! I wish I’d written something as good as that. I didn’t even use words like irrepressible. I can tell you now, I was a little jealous of this Katie Bunton and I did seek her out to tell her about the way Jackina Stark raved about her composition. I don’t remember what I wrote about, but I do remember “My Mother is Irrepressible.” You might be surprised by how many times that phrase has popped into my head in the last 25 years, partly because I aspire to be irrepressible. Most days, I am about the most repressible person you will find.

This Katie Bunton went on to marry a guy who is now the president of my Bible college, Matt Proctor. They have six (SIX!) kids and I’m sure it’s tricky juggling motherhood and a fairly high-profile ministry. If you are reading this and you have ties to Ozark, you might know that the last few months have had the added chaos of dealing with a rare and aggressive form of cancer. Not long ago, she posted something on the OCC Facebook wall about how they’d nicknamed her cancer Jezebel. Of course, I thought about that essay from all those years ago, the musings of a 19-year-old girl talking about her mother, who was probably roughly the age that we are now.

I doubt that Katie Bunton will ever read my blog. To say that our lives have taken wildly divergent paths is an understatement. Sometimes, when life presents challenges, we harken back to the simpler times in our life when what grade we got on an English composition was our most pressing worry. Well, Katie, if you read this, I know you’re still that irrepressible girl who wrote about her irrepressible mother. I know that irrepressibility has served you and continues to serve you. And yes, vainglorious fool that I am, I still wish I’d been as smart as to write something as indelible as “My Mother is Irrepressible.”

Tonka

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ImageLast night, I was coming home from a show. I parked my car, hurrying by the neighborhood cat, Tonka. Tonka belongs to a family and they feed him, but he is the unofficial mascot of the street on which he lives. This picture does not do him justice, but he’s a lean, handsome fella. Anyway, as I was rushing to get home, I passed by him and I said, “Hi Tonka.” Usually, if I’m not walking the dogs when I see Tonka, I’ll bend down and pet him for a few minutes. He’s an accomplished nuzzler, even though he lives according to the call of the wild. As I passed him on the sidewalk, I looked back to see him following me. And then I turned around and went back to give a little love and receive a little love from him. We had a nice few moments, me talking, him purring. When I walked away again, I thought to myself, why didn’t I just stop to pet him in the first place? I thought I was in a hurry, I thought I didn’t want to have to wash my hands when I got inside my apartment. I nearly robbed myself of a nice treat.

So today’s lesson for me, and for you, if you so desire, is take time to give a little love to the Tonka’s in our lives. It’s worth the time.

Guest Blogger, Ab Kastl: Plan B

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 A couple of weeks ago, I asked my Bible college roommate, Ab, if he would like to write a guest blog.  I don’t usually “assign” topics, but I asked him if he would be willing to write about something that I think about and write about frequently, the relationship between the conservative Christian community and the gay community.  Clearly, there are things we disagree about (I LOVE RUPAUL!!), but I think there are many more areas where we see eye to eye.  Not the least of which, those college years were among the years I laughed the hardest, too, and you should know, Ab Kastl was responsible for many of those laughs.  

Plan B

Hey Everybody! I was Ray’s college roommate for a few years back in the late 80s.  Those are the years I laughed the hardest in my life.  

                       

I am one scatter brained individual.  I am sure you probably struggle with being distracted every now and then.   I am so scatter brained I am thinking about 3 other things right now (food, the news, what I have to do tomorrow) while I should be focused on this blog. I am always thinking “I could be doing something else and maybe that would be better”. What could be my plan B? 

We all decide what we will invest our brain power in.  I am guilty of often focusing on the negative.  I have perfected the art of remembering every nit-picky thing someone has ever done.  If I focus on the negative in others, it justifies in my mind whenever I want to blow them off.

I am a conservative Christian minister….did I lose ya?  Did you just think of three reasons to blow off anything else I say from here on out? Did images of Pat Robertson and Jimmy Swaggart creep into your mind? If not, yea!! If so, you are normal.  

It is easy to highlight the negative in some ministers, Christians or churches so we don’t have to invest much in what they are about.

I read the huffingtonpost.com everyday, so I often hear the negative about what people are saying about ministers and churches.  

I think all of us have trained our minds to jump to certain images of certain groups because we don’t want to invest our time in what they offer. It would be foolish if I compared all gay people to RuPaul or the most flamboyant group from a gay pride day float. That would be like lumping all Christians with what Pat Robertson says or what the Westburo Baptist Church says.  Pat_Robertson

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 I have been a minister for 25 years involved with conservative churches in the Midwest and Southern California and I have never heard of anyone from any church ever reading, quoting or teaching from anything Pat Robertson has ever said. Obviously he has some niche out there, but I am sure they are a hospice away from the afterlife. 

And regarding the Westburo Baptist Church, I have not hung out there in years….I kid, I kid.. I was testing to see if I lost ya or not.   They are a twelve member family cult of hate that has nothing to do with real Christianity or the bible.
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2364680621_058246f136All of us are working on things in our life.  We all have things from our past that have thrown us off in life.  My big challenge growing up was coming from a family of a nasty divorce, feeling insecure, and dealing with being molested.  

I was molested as a child by a neighbor and family friend. If I judged all neighbors and family friends by the acts of this one, would that be right? If you judge all Christians by the acts of some, would that be right?

 I have never had food poisoning from a restaurant, but if I did it would be silly for me to say “I AM NEVER EATING AT ANY RESTAURANT EVER AGAIN!”.  I think the same can apply to churches.  If you get burned at one, don’t use that as ammo for the rest of your life to never get involved and get nourishment from another.  We all need food and we all crave to fill that spiritual hole in our heart. I did not have much real peace or joy in my life until I invested my life in the love of God through the church.  

I can honestly say many churches have realized they have failed in bridging a connection to the gay community and they are trying to improve.  They know they got caught up in quickly cutting them off instead of reaching out to all people as God’s children made in His image.  Many churches and leaders are investing time in books like “Unchristian” and “When Christians Get it Wrong” which tackle how Christians need to overcome this gap and be more consistent with loving all people. More and more churches are letting their members know they are a place of love and Jesus was inclusive and they must be also.   

I work with an average bible believing church here in Southern California (not far from Orange County).  A few years back a couple of guys showed up every Sunday. I was guessing they were a gay couple. They brought two young kids to Sunday School and then sat together in church.  They were welcomed with love and joy. They got more and more involved. Everyone loved them.  Come to find out they were father and son but they looked about the same age. I was curious if others thought they were a gay couple. When I asked around, everyone I talked to assumed they were a gay couple but no one said anything negative or demanded a meeting to run them off.  They were loved and accepted as is and stayed until they moved out of the area.  I was proud of our church that no one skipped a beat. 

More recently, a couple of divorced ladies in our church developed a friendship that has evolved into more than a friendship.  No one has shunned them, made them feel unaccepted or demand they “turn or burn”.  They have been deeply involved in church and everyone loves them. Somewhere out there is a church that you can serve, learn, love and grow closer to God. 

I guess the dominate point of this is to pep talk us all to stay focused on what we can do.  I am challenging myself to focus on all people being God’s creation loved by Him and treat them as God would and to speak up when I others do not treat them properly. I challenge you to focus on God and His plan for your life through involvement in a church.  If you are involved in a church, that is great, get in there and serve God and others with all your heart.   If you have not even thought about investing any time in a church, maybe give it a second to look into why God set up such a gathering.  It has taken some time, but things are moving towards lots of love for all God’s children. 

Just like anything, you have to go shopping and searching to find out if it is a good match for you…. for a job, for a car, for a church.  If you visit a church and it is not a good match, go check out another until you come to one that is full of love and celebrates His plan for your life.  

Most of the time dealing with people can be difficult.  Sometimes as a minister, I fantasize about flipping burgers instead of dealing with some people and all their drama. With a big grin, in total bliss, my only worry would be to get that patty over at just the right time….ahh, glorious. Life without the church often sounds appealing, but it was through the church God chose to let the world know His plan and see His love. There is no Plan B.   

 

This is Me

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2006_friends_with_money_008If you have seen the movie, Friends with Money, you probably remember the scene where Frances McDormand’s character, Jane, has a meltdown at this couple who have cut in the line at Old Navy.  I’ve posted it here if you haven’t seen it: it’s perfect.  In fact, I highly suggest watching all of Nicole Holofcener’s movies, she’s my favorite director. (More on her later.) There are many things that I love about this scene and this character, she’s so self-righteous and funny and sensitive.  She’s a crusader for integrity but her mission has made her crazy.  When you watch the scene, you see that her actions affect everyone around her, but most of all, her actions affect her.  She’s taken this moral high ground, but it’s taken a toll on her soul.

I’ve certainly written about such themes before, specifically here.  Every day I feel like behaving the way Jane behaves.  I’ve talked about how crazy it makes me when people run the stop signs while I’m walking my dogs.  I yell to them, “Hey, you missed your stop sign.” And then even louder, “JUST SO YOU KNOW, THERE ARE A LOT OF SMALL CHILDREN THAT LIVE IN THIS NEIGHBORHOOD!!”  Sometimes, they flip me off, sometimes, they don’t even notice.  Most of them are too busy rushing to their game at the Tennis club.  And as they drive off, completely unfazed, my heart is always racing and I’m so filled with fury that people don’t think the laws of the land apply to them.  All of this self-righteousness is taking its toll on me.  

The thing about the scene in the movie, is we see that there is something deeper going on than outrage at people cutting in line at a checkout lane.  It’s a depression.  She is a woman looking at her life, grieving for lost youth, burdened by inadequacies and that feeling that her life has not amounted to all that she’d hoped it would be.  And most of us can relate to at least a smidge of that, maybe even more than a smidge.

I’ll end on an upbeat note, though.  A couple of years ago, I was at West Elm with my friend Carrie.  I saw a woman who looked familiar, in fact she looked like Nicole Holofcener.  Carrie and I had been to happy hour at Border Grill a few doors down and emboldened with margarita courage, I went over to her and asked if, by chance, she was a director.  I did not say her name, because to this day, I do not know how to pronounce her last name.  She told me she WAS a director and I told her that I was her biggest fan.  I told her that we had had parrallel lives because her Walking and Talking reminded me of my life when I lived in New York and that Lovely and Amazing and Friends with Money rang true to my life in Los Angeles.  I said that the scene in Lovely and Amazing at the McDonald’s between Catherine Keener and Raven Goodwin is my favorite movie scene ever.  I’ve included it here, too.  Anyway, she was very gracious, even if Carrie was standing by the pillows mouthing the words, “You’re crazy,” over and over.  I told her I would love to work with her in any capacity and even went so far as to write my name and phone number on a slip of paper and give it to her.  She told me, “You never know, you might hear from me.”  It’s been a while now, that slip of paper has probably long been thrown away.  It was an exciting moment though, I actually felt like a character in one of her movies.  And every once in a while, when my phone rings and I don’t recognize the number, I think, maybe it’s my future friend Nicole, because, well, you never know…