Today, I'd like to focus on "Red and Yellow, Black and White....All are precious in His sight." I sang this song as a little child in church....Jesus loves the little children; all the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white. All are precious in His sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world!!!!!" In fact, I can still picture myself sitting on the piano bench beside my beloved Uncle John as he played the tune and we sang it together. Oh, how those words have such a deep meaning for me now. If red and yellow, black and white are all precious in His sight, should we also sing,"Gay and Straight, big and small, Jesus really loves them all?" I mean, really. I want to set something STRAIGHT about growing up with a gay uncle. That's right, Backwoods Bible Thumping family members, I said it. If you have a problem with it being out there, you might want to figure out a way to change it. You CAN'T change it. You can't change someone's true self. Get over it. It is 2012 and it is time we all realize that hate breeds hate. Stop it. Stop treating others like second-class citizens just because they are not just like YOU. I'd like to talk a bit about my most cherished uncle.
John Wyatt Poole was 13 when I came into the world at 5 pounds, 13 ounces. I was the apple of his eye. He was my first best friend. We were co-conspirators and partners in crime. Granny took us with her in her Buick as we traveled the gravel roads of Attala County. In those days, seat belts weren't the law. I would sit in John's lap and look out over the dash as Granny drove like a bat out of the hot place on those twisty, dusty roads. She would talk and talk and talk as we laughed and drank ice-cold Coke from the glass bottle out of Pappy's garage Coke machine. It was John who first taught me the art of sarcasm. I owe that trait to him and him alone. His nickname for me was "Mode." As a child, I was with my grandparents 5 out of 7 days of the week. Granny's disciplinary action for me was to make me go into the bathroom(it was in the dead center of the house--two doors, no windows) and sit on the closed toilet lid and "think about" what I had done. John found this to be quite amusing and would say,"They call her MODE because she likes to sit on it!" He called me Mode 'til the day he died...oh, the day he died......January 28, 1992. I digress.....we will come back to that day another time.
John told me my first ghost story. It was because of him that I was convinced Casper was coming through the old, creaky house every single time the wind blew. It was because of him I was scared to death to open the closet door in his bedroom that led up a steep, dusty staircase into the forbidden attic. John also taught me the learned skill of "flipping" your flip flops when you walk. I can still hear his distinct,"flip, flip, flip" if I close my eyes just right. John taught me how to break apart my oreos and soak them in my milk to make chocolate milk. He taught me to read sheet music and the love of playing an instrument. He taught me that one of the funniest things in the world is to rhyme someone's name with a funny word....i.e. Maria has diarrhea(Maria was my great aunt). I still laugh at that. Danny has a big fanny(Danny is my dad). Bob the Snob(that's my uncle....John's brother). As a child, I didn't have a clue what it meant to be gay or straight. Nor did I care. I just knew I loved Uncle John and I had no doubt that he loved me more than life. I knew he was unlike anyone else I had ever met. He was MY Uncle John and I was the luckiest little girl in the world.
John was the first person to introduce me to sunbathing. I didn't say he taught me all the RIGHT things! We would take towels and spread them on the hot, hard concrete of Granny's porch and just plop ourselves there with BABY OIL and IODINE! Granny would bring us iced water and anything else we demanded. Thanks, Uncle John, for all the freckles and yearly dermatology bills!!!!!! I remember when John began cosmetology school. Someone please tell me why people in my family found it necessary to "hide" the fact that John was gay?!!! Was it not obvious? Anyway, I became his hair model. When I was in eighth grade, he cut my hair so short that I looked like a boy. My mother almost killed him! John played the piano like nobody's business. He played at church and any event where he was asked. He also had the most beautiful voice. My uncle gave of himself so that others could enjoy and worship. He was happiest in those moments.
Uncle John eventually moved away from Small Town, Mississippi so that he could be himself and live his life. He was shunned and he was treated as if his life meant nothing. Literally. What I regret MOST in my life is that I didn't stand up for him more back then. I was young and I was scared. I was scared of speaking my mind and standing up for what I believed to be right. Maybe that is why I am so incredibly outspoken today. If you knew me back then, I am sure you remember me as being outspoken. I was definitely not afraid to speak up in most cases. However, when it came to "family secrets," I was silenced. NO MORE!!! My Uncle John knew I loved him. For that, I am proud. He died at the age of 32. He died a horrific death. Many family members pretended he didn't exist. I would like to challenge you. Please don't be silenced. Stand up for others. Let them know you care. Don't let the ignorance continue. Just remember ....red and yellow, black and white....all are precious in His sight.
Until next time.....
John Wyatt Poole was 13 when I came into the world at 5 pounds, 13 ounces. I was the apple of his eye. He was my first best friend. We were co-conspirators and partners in crime. Granny took us with her in her Buick as we traveled the gravel roads of Attala County. In those days, seat belts weren't the law. I would sit in John's lap and look out over the dash as Granny drove like a bat out of the hot place on those twisty, dusty roads. She would talk and talk and talk as we laughed and drank ice-cold Coke from the glass bottle out of Pappy's garage Coke machine. It was John who first taught me the art of sarcasm. I owe that trait to him and him alone. His nickname for me was "Mode." As a child, I was with my grandparents 5 out of 7 days of the week. Granny's disciplinary action for me was to make me go into the bathroom(it was in the dead center of the house--two doors, no windows) and sit on the closed toilet lid and "think about" what I had done. John found this to be quite amusing and would say,"They call her MODE because she likes to sit on it!" He called me Mode 'til the day he died...oh, the day he died......January 28, 1992. I digress.....we will come back to that day another time.
John told me my first ghost story. It was because of him that I was convinced Casper was coming through the old, creaky house every single time the wind blew. It was because of him I was scared to death to open the closet door in his bedroom that led up a steep, dusty staircase into the forbidden attic. John also taught me the learned skill of "flipping" your flip flops when you walk. I can still hear his distinct,"flip, flip, flip" if I close my eyes just right. John taught me how to break apart my oreos and soak them in my milk to make chocolate milk. He taught me to read sheet music and the love of playing an instrument. He taught me that one of the funniest things in the world is to rhyme someone's name with a funny word....i.e. Maria has diarrhea(Maria was my great aunt). I still laugh at that. Danny has a big fanny(Danny is my dad). Bob the Snob(that's my uncle....John's brother). As a child, I didn't have a clue what it meant to be gay or straight. Nor did I care. I just knew I loved Uncle John and I had no doubt that he loved me more than life. I knew he was unlike anyone else I had ever met. He was MY Uncle John and I was the luckiest little girl in the world.
John was the first person to introduce me to sunbathing. I didn't say he taught me all the RIGHT things! We would take towels and spread them on the hot, hard concrete of Granny's porch and just plop ourselves there with BABY OIL and IODINE! Granny would bring us iced water and anything else we demanded. Thanks, Uncle John, for all the freckles and yearly dermatology bills!!!!!! I remember when John began cosmetology school. Someone please tell me why people in my family found it necessary to "hide" the fact that John was gay?!!! Was it not obvious? Anyway, I became his hair model. When I was in eighth grade, he cut my hair so short that I looked like a boy. My mother almost killed him! John played the piano like nobody's business. He played at church and any event where he was asked. He also had the most beautiful voice. My uncle gave of himself so that others could enjoy and worship. He was happiest in those moments.
Uncle John eventually moved away from Small Town, Mississippi so that he could be himself and live his life. He was shunned and he was treated as if his life meant nothing. Literally. What I regret MOST in my life is that I didn't stand up for him more back then. I was young and I was scared. I was scared of speaking my mind and standing up for what I believed to be right. Maybe that is why I am so incredibly outspoken today. If you knew me back then, I am sure you remember me as being outspoken. I was definitely not afraid to speak up in most cases. However, when it came to "family secrets," I was silenced. NO MORE!!! My Uncle John knew I loved him. For that, I am proud. He died at the age of 32. He died a horrific death. Many family members pretended he didn't exist. I would like to challenge you. Please don't be silenced. Stand up for others. Let them know you care. Don't let the ignorance continue. Just remember ....red and yellow, black and white....all are precious in His sight.
2 comments:
How did I ever miss your first blog post?
Sub, probably because I posted post 1 and post 2 on the same day! :-)
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