Shipped off to Boston

I still have my morning alarm set to Dropkick Murphy's Shipping off to Boston, which to tell you the truth has gotten a little old - but it was exciting during the process of moving to be sure.

I have been living in Boston 2 weeks and 2 days exactly. The move went more smoothly than it had any right to in most of the important ways. The truck never broke down, nor was it decapitated (thank you, Reddit), we spent a night in my home town, where I had not been for 3 years and I had no idea how much I needed that. The trip through the east side of NY and into MA was beautiful, and we hit almost no traffic. When we arrived at our apartment there was a truck WITH ramp sized parking spot less than 4 meters from the front door, and our hired movers (Bellhop Movers, check 'em out y'all) were fantastic, stayed way past their booked time, and were careful and never complained. We had friends bring us pizza and beer and I was able to set the bed up to allow us the ability to sleep in comfort that first night. There was walking and exploring and unpacking that happened over the next few days, and then a sad goodbye as Nick left to return to Chicago. Interesting fact: it was his very first solo flight, and he survived quite well.

I haven't lived by myself in almost 4 years exactly and though I lived alone for 5 years prior to that, there have been some challenges upon reentry. Living alone is a test of your ability to tell your imagination to shut the ever-living hell up because the creaking sounds in the apartment are NOT a murderer. Our building was built in the 1920s - it creaks more than not. At this time I have an estimated amount of 5 serial killers, 2 murderers, and 12 boogeymen living with me. They show no signs of attack yet, but my imagination tells me that they like to pace the floors at night just to fuck with me.

I'm learning about commuting for work and have become a successful navigator of Boston's T system. Despite that proficiency I am currently still in the midst of the Great Grocery Hunt of 2015. Finding what amounts to a 'typical' grocery store to me that isn't all organic or a million dollars a trip is proving to be somewhat of a challenge. I have sunk to the level of asking random strangers unloading grocery bags from their cars where they shopped. Not having a car is making this very difficult, but we shall prevail! I have a bike!

Speaking of bikes, I have found my current nemesis and it is the bike room in the basement of my building. I am terrified of it. Petrified, panic-stricken, scared stiff. It is dark, smells like the sewer, and if you thought I had a large amount of imaginary criminals living in my apartment, their lair is that cave in which I am supposed to store my two-wheeled means of transportation. I have yet to visit it alone. Again, we shall prevail, but it may require a friend's hand to hold. Any volunteers?

My two weeks at work have been exciting, engaging, and educational. I have learned so much and it just feels like drops in the proverbial bucket compared to what I don't know. The most important thing I have learned out of all of the tidbits I could share is that my new institution makes me happy. I enjoy the people that I am working with and thus far feel quite supported. This work is going to be challenging, but that is a good thing in my eyes. I like working hard, and I like to think that the work that I put in is meaningful. I have that feeling, and have had it right from the start. I know I already like it there, and I think there is potential for me to feel quite at home in this new office and role. It's been two weeks - we'll check in a couple of months from now.

I am struggling a little health-wise which has presented some challenges, but I think much of it is due to the lock down mode that I was operating under for about 2 and a half weeks leading up to the move and during the beginnings of the transition. My migraines have been out of control and I've had a few flare ups of the chronic condition that I have. Despite all of this, I'm settling in well.

My plan for this weekend is to get some boxes unpacked, and then go visit some friends in New Hampshire on Monday on my day off of work. The apartment needs a lot of work - other than the kitchen which Nick did a fantastic job on before he left. I told my supervisor facetiously this week that my life was, "in shambles" and she very accurately responded, "no, not shambles. Your life is in boxes."

A little bit at time we are working to change that, and working to make this home. Nick will make his move in a little over a month, and that process can really take off. Home has always been a conceptual idea to me rather than one definitive place. It is where I feel accepted, where I feel understood, where I find my people, where I feel happy. There is an apartment on State St, a pair of people in Naperville, an Indian Reservation in NY, where ever my twin is to be found, a village in Nepal, a street in Berlin, a place on the Cape, a house in Florida - all definitions of home. Hopefully soon this new city can earn a place amongst those hallowed ranks. I'm so excited for the adventure.

Indiana Is Not A Sinking Ship

And we shouldn't abandon it as such. I have received quite a few emails recently from organizations to which I am a member asking for my input regarding upcoming events that are potentially scheduled to be held in Indiana. Anyone who knows me, knows that I identify as as a cis-gender white female, but in front of all of that I identify as an ally to the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, asexual, intersexed, pansexual, queer, questioning, and sexuality or gender-nonconforming, communities and individuals. I'm a giant fabulous supporter of the whole damn rainbow.

Nothing hurts my heart more than to hear that there are those who believe themselves more worthy of something over another person (protip: if you think you deserve a right, and that someone else doesn't  then you think your life is 'better' or 'correct' over theirs). I'm not really sure how the logic of "if this person can do this thing (dress this way, use this bathroom, have sex this way, love this person), it infringes on my rights" even computes - but then again I am a robot and I tend to reject idiocy as a reasoning.

To avoid my waxing eloquent for endless pages about why everyone it is so important to be an ally and understand that sharing privilege does not give you less I will attempt to concisely put below my responses to my professional organizations, and to anyone who has asked me to sign a petition to keep said events out of Indiana. Should you want to read endless pages, I direct you to my master's thesis on ally development - it's at the Eastern Illinois University online library. I challenge you not to fall asleep reading it. I shall attempt brevity and a vastly more interesting response below:

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Dear [Organization or Person]

I am providing feedback as solicited from the email on Friday. My response to the idea of moving [EVENT or MEETING]  is similar to the reason why I did not sign one of the petitions floating around there about moving [OTHER EVENT]. I don’t have enough information on the financial impact it would have on the membership in the form of canceled deposits and guarantees to hotels, hosting institutions, etc. Money cannot be the only factor, of course, but we are a dues paying organization (some of which are paid by members in Indiana), and it is irresponsible to not take it into consideration. If this will be a potentially burdensome change, I wonder if we cannot think of some better way to show our support to ALL of our members – including those that live inside the borders of Indiana.

It would take additional time and effort – and would be something that I would be happy to be a part of - but if we do not decide to move the [EVENT] perhaps research could be done to ensure that every vendor with whom we work has non-discrimination written into their company policies and a list could be complied of businesses in the neighborhoods that actively put themselves forward as accepting all customers regardless of any identities.

I can’t help but wonder if all of this “stay out of Indiana” petitioning isn't focusing on the wrong things. We have professionals, even LGBT professionals that live in Indiana. As much as I want to ensure my money is being spent in a responsible manner, I do not want them to feel abandoned.

Thank you for your time in reading my thoughts, I wish you and everyone luck with this challenging decision.

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At the end of the day, it isn't about the money, it's about the membership. We, those of us who don't live in Indiana (or any of the other states who have laws like this - you don't stand alone in this shameful decision, IN), have the privilege of walking away, of choosing not to visit or spend our money there. Or, we can do what we as allies are sworn to do - not abandon our brethren. We can be informed consumers, we can research WHERE we will spend our money and find the businesses that provide non-discriminatory service. This was not a blanket decision of the entire state, just one that effects those who live and visit. We can stand tall, cloaked in our protective privilege and say "this is enough". It's really hard to do that while shouting across the border. 

My values have steered me away from many a thing (RIP Chick fil A sauce) but it isn't a thing we are fleeing from, it is our friends and colleagues who need our help. Indiana is not hopeless; it is not sinking. Join me in my research! Identify worthy industries and businesses - it isn't even that hard - they are making themselves very well known. Lastly, get back in the boat and grab a bucket. Bailing out the waves of intolerance gets harder with the less people who are there to help. We cannot give up our allyship because we don't like the fight. Now is the time to dig in our heels, and stand as the example. To my friends in Indiana, I hope to see you at my conferences, I hope to provide worthy money to those who provide services to all, and most of all I look forward to the day when we can see this overturned. The more of us in the fight, the closer that day gets. 

--

Miranda Ambuske-Perry

Ally

What it means to be a US Veteran today (A Family Story)

My father is an extremely proud US Veteran of Foreign Wars (Viet Nam, Da Nang, 70-71). I was born after his service, so one might wonder what I know of what it means to be a veteran. After certain extremely tense and painful experiences recently, I feel so moved to write down not only what I have seen, but what my family and I have experienced as the relatives of a hero, from the beginning. This is our story, but so many have one like it.

-  As the wife of a veteran it means means celebrating your husband's return in 1971, only to have his (alleged) exposure to Agent Orange strike him down shortly after with terminally diagnosed cancer.

- As the first two children of that veteran means living with years of cancer treatments, hospitalizations and an incredibly ill Daddy.

-Being a veteran, fuck that terminal diagnose - years of experimental treatments later and you beat the "99% fatal" odds.

-Being that veteran means that the experimental treatments become standard, and the experiments ravaged upon your dying body are refined, taking Lymphoma from "99%" fatal to almost "99%" treatable. Even when you're not trying, you give back.

- As the later in life daughter of a veteran it meant having to explain why an entire room in our house was themed "USA". Everything from the paint on the walls to the curtains to the throw pillows to the decorative books on the (navy blue) trunk were themed "America".

- Being a veteran, life is never easy, and it this case it means the experimental Lymphoma treatments come back for their revenge in the form of unknowingly permanently damaged arteries. It means a perfectly healthy looking man will now undergo a quintuple heart bypass. It also means that the government still acknowledges no culpability that Agent Orange is at the bottom of all of this, so hopefully this veteran has VERY good insurance.

- As the family, this means life is once again uprooted as this veteran almost dies again. It also means that this family discovers how wonderful their friends and neighbors are who step up to take care of the youngest daughter, provide food and shelter for her when needed, and help in any way they can.

- Still no acknowledgment, thank you, or apology from the government, and CERTAINLY no financial assistance. Not that a veteran would ever ask.

- As a veteran, you survive the quintuple heart bypass, only to be diagnosed with two different cancers over the next 8 years. You survive those as well as a strong, proud, American veteran.

- As the later in life daughter you begin to do research, and  realize that the headaches and migraines that plague you on a weekly/daily basis have been correlated to the offspring of AO exposed Viet Nam veterans. All of this, however, is ALLEGED. No Agent Orange to see here.

- As a veteran, you finally retire from your job, and begin to live your dream life with your wife in Florida, surrounded by other veterans who can nod at each other every day and say, "I know".

- As a veteran, your dream life is derailed as more of these allegedly associated medical conditions begin to wreck havoc on your ability to do anything, and your bypasses begin to fail. The system put in place to serve you, however, is overloaded and underfunded - so the necessary tests are not ordered or performed. There is literally, "no room at the inn".

- As a veteran, your doctors stop calling you back, your appointments are months apart, and they begin cutting down on your desperately needed pain medication - often all without speaking to you.

- As a veteran, the only time you get necessary treatments is when you collapse and have to be taken to the emergency room via an ambulance - and ONLY if you go to a non VA hospital.

- As the veteran you sink deeper and deeper into a dark place as your pain becomes worse and worse with no end in sight.

- As the family of a veteran, you become desperate, one daughter goes straight to the top and communicates with the office of the Vice President of the United States, the other daughter appeals to social media and inundates the VA with dozens of emails from concerned parties.

- As the VA, fearing a media storm, you acquiesce and arrange treatments to happen as soon as is possible. The family begins to wonder what happens to the veterans who do not have people to respond like this.

- The family remains optimistic, but counts down the days until this veteran can remove himself from VA treatments and get away from the care that was allegedly designed to honor and treat such a hero who has given so much for his country. The care that has almost killed him.

- As a veteran, you hobble out each day and ensure that your well loved American flag is hanging straight, isn't frayed, and is still in honorable condition. Because you are a veteran, and you love the country that you have served. That honor is strong and unwavering, despite being forgotten, despite being looked over, despite your country not honoring you.


A veteran is a man or woman who has given their all in the form of commitment, honor, or even their lives. They do, however, grow older, or sadder, or struggle, but are trained to endure. When told "we have no appointments for you" their responses are often, "Thank you, sir. I will call again tomorrow."

There is no greater tragedy, no Sisyphean story more heartbreaking than a man or woman who put everything on the line be turned away or forgotten by the government that they volunteered to serve. I write this to raise awareness, I write this to pour out my hurt and sadness that the man who taught me to love this country is being betrayed by it like so many others.

At the moment my family and I need no further help in the form of letters or phone calls, but if you are reading this, I will keep you in the loop should the VA renege on their promises again. As the family of a veteran you feel heartbreak for those that never returned as well as heartbreak to watch the sacrifices your loved one has made come to nothing. If you know a veteran keep them in your thoughts, and please reach out. They are veterans - they will not ask for help, they have been trained not to. We must step in where their training and government is failing them. We must be their support, their champions.

Thank you Brothers and Sisters, it is your turn to rest. We will take this watch.

So It Goes

How do you say "today is a bad day. A worst day."? Do you just say those words? Do you use that vocabulary when your exhaustion shows and you've been told for the fifth time that you look like hell?

What if they start noticing that ponytail days mean one of two things: I was in a rush, or I just couldn't do it today.

What about when you lose something, everything, for the tenth time, and it's painful to think that you just have to look again, because it's probably in the purse you checked four times already? How do you explain the feeling of despair that you get when you find it, because honestly, you already looked there.

Today I am a shade, a shadow of myself. Today everything is painful.
Not outwardly however, because life, in all of its trenchant ironies deems that only the effect should be seen, not the cause.

How do you say that I have given my very best, and it hasn't been enough.

Probably with the same Sisyphean effort that goes into the words that follow the above declarations:

"I will try again tomorrow."