I’d love to hear about the grandparents in your life—whether they were your biological grandparents or other grandparent figures who played a meaningful role. What did you call them? What were they like?

I had one grandmother (my mom’s mom) and a grandfather and grandmother (my dad’s parents). My “PaPa” died when I was five, and I have just fleeting memories of him. I remember him chasing my brother and me around the house sticking his false teeth out at us. It is such a fun memory of his playful side. I also remember him riddled with cancer and a broken arm sitting in a wheelchair at my Aunt Cheryl’s wedding. I was a flower girl. He smoked a couple of pack of unfiltered Camels every day and had an aggressive form of lung cancer. He died at 63, which made my dad believe he would also die at that age. The weird thing is, my PaPa’s brothers (three of them) also died at 63. I can see why my dad felt this was his destiny as well! My mom’s dad died when she was 15, so she had some significant trauma around his absence in her life. He died on the operating table due to heart disease. She talked about him fondly, and referred to a story of him selling his Calvary boots in order to buy her and her sister Christmas presents one year. She wanted to emulate his life by being self-sacrificing and compassionate. My grandmother (Nanny T.) was my mom’s mom and a very proper lady. She was widowed young, and she made her from being a one-room schoolteacher to a buyer at a Bergner’s Store to an executive assistant at Prudential Insurance Company where she retired at 65. She was independent, smart, and consumed with doing the right thing. She attended church weekly, was in the women’s club, and made food for the housebound or sick. She was critical of me from the time I could remember, because I wasn’t the type of girl that she had hoped for. I was obviously a tomboy, and she wanted a demure, sweet, quiet girl, so I was often compared to a cousin’s family who had girls that fit that description. I don’t think she meant any harm, really, and I still looked forward to our Sunday dinners at her house and watching Lawrence Welk with her. I took care of her when she had surgeries, as my college was just a few miles from her house and my mom was still working. My dad’s mom (Nanny R.) could not have been more different. She was a foiksy woman, a registered nurse, who worked at the rural doctor’s office for many years. She took care of us when we had to stay home from school sick, and her house was a gathering place for us six cousins and family holidays. She went on camping trips with my family and was always included in Sundays at my other grandmother’s house. She baked from scratch, made great homemade everything. She sewed me an outfit that I absolutely loved. My fondest memory of her was walking home from a church revival and the moon was shining bright. She was holding my hand and we were walking back to my house. We talked about how lucky we were to be alive and to enjoy this beautiful evening and know that we were loved unconditionally by God. I get teary-eyed still thinking about it. She died a heart failure after a long battled with dementia. I think she was 83. My Nanny T. had a series of strokes and eventually died from a massive one. Both were in nursing homes at the time of their deaths. I think my mom’s mom died at 84. Both women were incredible in their own right, and I valued my time with them. Both wished I was more “girly” and both compared me to a standard that I was never going to meet, but overall, they never rejected me, even when I came out at 18. I told both grandmas and both said, “Love who you want, but just be happy.”

What is a memory from childhood that always makes you smile? Maybe it’s a favorite game, book, or TV show. It could be a birthday party, a moment you were proud of, or anything else that brings back a happy feeling. I’d love to hear what stands out to you.

This is a bit weird, but I loved any and all books about being an orphan. I loved my parents very much, but I grew up in the 60s and 70s and television was full of hardship stories that somehow resonated with me. Maybe it was past life stuff, but reading Oliver Twist, Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer, and The Box Car children opened up a world of overcoming and making something out of nothing that appealed to me. I also think those books, in particular, were some of my most precious possessions, because my dad got them for my by drinking an extraordinary amount of coffee. If you bought these particular cans of coffee, you got a free Illustrated Classic book. My dad was the only person in my family to drink coffee, so he would drink a ton of coffee when a new book offer came around. Owning books was my pride and joy, and he loved being able to provide that for me. I would sit on our porch or head down to the creek and read under the bridge during the summer. I loved those days. My mom would pack me a lunch, and I would take off with my book and a notebook for the day. I also loved The Waltons and Little House of the Prairie for the same type of vibe. Hardship to triumph, that’s my jam! I also have to say that most of my fond memories are focused on sports and reading/writing. I loved all sports, and most of my happy times were spent on the ball field or the court through college.

This next question is a bit deeper, and you’re welcome to answer it whatever way feels right—there’s no right or wrong. Have you ever felt unheard, unseen, or judged—when people made assumptions about you before really knowing you? Maybe it changed how you saw yourself or how you moved through the world. Is there a story you’d like to share?

This is absolutely true. I was a lesbian from a rural area in Central Illinois whose family had never produced a college graduate. I wrote poetry from an early age, and loved to read everything I could get my hands on. We struggled financially all of the time, and had to rely on food banks and people’s good nature from time to time. I had no idea how to get to college other than to play sports to the best of my ability and get decent grades. People from my high school did not go to college unless it was junior college, and I wanted to go to a 4-year college. I received a scholarship to college, and I was going to live at home to save money. I was playing volleyball, basketball, and track (I couldn’t play softball, because I had played professionally for a bit), and I was double majoring and minoring. I was an English major, and I was a fish out of water with that group. I had the grades after my freshman year and a publication of two poems, so I applied to be in the honor society. You had to interview with the peer board and two professors. I had never felt so out of sink with a group in my life. They made me feel underqualified and out of my league in every sense of the word. I felt belittled because of my rural upbringing, small high school, and because I was an out lesbian in 1980. Little did I know at that time that I had a 137 IQ and was probably better read than most of them! (I found this out when I had to take an IQ test for my doctorate!) I had never felt so much like an oddball in my life. Later, this feeling would happen again, but it was usually associated with my lesbianism and my drive to make the academic accessible to those who hadn’t come from an academic world, but this college experience was the first one that stands out. I was received into the society, and I made it my calling to make sure that others would not feel that way trying to get into the membership. I did, however, always feel like I had to prove myself. Later on, I struggled more with trying to be authentically me (think conservative, wealthier suburbs) and making sure I could maintain employment and a good reputation. I was told on more than one occasion to be “less gay” and try to fit in more. This was never a strong suit for me! LOL.

Let’s shift gears a bit to something more upbeat. Can you share a time when you felt truly seen—when someone did or said something that made you feel happier and made you think, ‘Wow, they really get me’?

When I was a pastor at a large church in Steven’s Point, WI, I had to hide my sexuality and my partner at the time. I thought I was doing a pretty good job, but I had this incredibly vivacious musician who was larger than life and a mother of two come to my office and say, “Are you going to tell me about your life? I know you are gay, and I want you to be comfortable with me!” We became fast friends and for the first time in my professional career, I felt seen and understood. She was a wonderfully kind person with a big heart and personality. We remained friends for several years, and her battle with bipolar disease finally took her from this world way too soon. She really altered the course of my professional life and my faith, as together we formed a feminist worship and study group, and she genuinely cared about my life and encouraged me to be who I was at all times. From my friendship with Paula, I was able to feel grounded and normal. I have been fortunate to have so many others in my life since that time who have done the same for me. Everybody wants and needs to be seen for who they are!

What’s the most important thing we haven’t touched on yet? Is there a piece of wisdom passed down from a family member or something you’d like to share that could make our readers’ lives kinder, more compassionate, and loving? Anything come to mind?

My parents, for all their flaws from being young parents, constantly reinforced for my brother and me that our first obligation is to make no one’s life harder, but instead, to find ways to impact others in positive ways. This was guided by their faith, and I was lucky enough to come from a very religious, but liberal background that emphasized the gospels concerning lifting up one another, understanding the hardships of others and finding ways to help whenever and however possible. My parents were the models of this. We often had strangers at our table for dinner, especially at the holidays. My dad took care of an old classmate of his that had Cerebral Palsy and lived with caretakers that valued his money but not him. My dad would go over once a week and bath him and take him out for lunch. We would pick him up for church on Sundays and he was at our family holidays always. My dad, who was often a gruff guy, was so kind and sensitive with Bruce, and that has stayed with me. My mom never knew a stranger, right up until the day she died. She was always bringing home someone down on their luck. If my family had an extra dollar or two, it went to someone who needed it more. I feel so lucky to have these be the family values that I carry with me. I am so dedicated to make sure that the children in my world grow their compassion and empathy through the projects, books, and teachings we do at every school I have been affiliated with. When my mom was told she only had a few weeks to live, asked me to make sure that some of her things were given to the staff of the assisted living apartments and that her clothes and shoes were given to the residents there. She wanted me to give my best friend one of her crosses, because she wanted her to know how much she loved her. My mom gave my wife so much love when her own parents had rejected her for coming out, saying, “You are my daughter now and forever!” This is how I hope I’ve lived my own life, and how I want to be when my own death is approaching. Being a good, kind, loving person is all we really have in this world. In the words of Ram Dass, “We are all just walking each other home.”